et ay 4 pei THE TRANSACTIONS OF THE ROYAL IRISH ACADEMY. VOL. X. DUBLIN, Graishertp ann Campbell, PRINTERS TO THE ROYAL IRISH ACADEMY, a age eee 1806, THE ACADEMY desire it to be understood, that, as a body, they are not answerable for any opinion, representation of facts, or train of reasoning, which may appear in the fol- lowing papers. The authors of the several Essays are alone responsible for their contents. Il. II. IV. v. Gi Osa TR wNaTo Si SCIENCE. Description of an Apparatus for transferring Gasses over Water or Mercury, Sc. by the Rev. Gil- bert Austin, M. R. I. A. - = = An Account of a new semi-metallic Substance, called Menacane, and its Ores, °Y the late G. Mitchel, M. B. - - - - Synoptical View of the State of the Weather at Dublin, in the Year 1802, by Richard Kirwan, Esq. L.L.D. ERS. PRIA. 5c. - Synoptical View of the State of the Weather at Dublin, in the Year 1803, by Richard Kirwan, Esq: L.E:DAFORYS. PYR.PAS Sc. - - On the Volcanic Theory, by the Rev. William ~ Richardson, D. D. late Fellow of Trinity College, Dublin. Communicated by the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Dromore - - Part I. Examination of Mr. Desmarest’s Me- mow, published in the Transactions of the Aca- demy of Sciences, in the Year 1771 - - Page co il ol vill : Page Part II. Examination of the Facts and Opinions, given by different Advocates for the Volcanic Origin of Basalt, who followed Mr. Desma- rest; to wit, Mr. Fauwjas de St. Fond, Mr. Dolomieu, Mr. Whitehurst, Bishop Troll, Abbe Spalanzani, and Dr. Hamilton — - - = 63 Part III. Arguments against the Volcanic Origin of Basalt, derived from its Arrangement in the County of Antrim, and from other Facts ob- served in that Country mah Me - Le. OY VI. On comparative Micrometer Measures. In a Let- ter from the Rev. Dr. J. A. Hamilton, Dean of Cloyne, to the Rev. J. Brinkley, F.R.S. 109 VII. Observations on the metallic Composition for the Specula of reflecting Telescopes, and the Man- ner of casting them: also a Method of communi- cating to them any particular conoidal Figure: with an Attempt to explain; on scientific Prin- ciples, the Grounds of each Process: and oc- casional Remarks on the Construction of Te- lescopes. By the Rev. James Little 2 Seat Ke) VILE. On Space and Duration. By Richard Kirwan, Esq. L.L.D. F.R.S. and POR Ai ws - 189 Of Duration, Time, and Eternity - ~ - 215 LX. An experimental Enquiry into the Nature of gra- velly ,and calculous Concretions, in the human Subject; and the Effects of alkaline and acid Substances on them, in and out of the Body. By Thomas Egan, M,D, - - - - 229 \ X. Synoptical ix Page X. Synoptical View of the State of the Weather at Dublin, in the Year 1804. By Richard Kir- wan, Bsq. L.L.D. F.R.S. P.R.I.A. Sc. - 309 POLITE LITERATURE. I. Essay on the Question “Are the Origin and Progress “ of the Polite Arts, in any Country, connected “ with, and depending on, the political State “ of that Country?” By William Preston, Esq. M. RE. A: Geese 77 cayimt - SPs, te 3 II. On the primeval Language of Mankind. By Richard Kirwan, Esq. L.L.D. P.R.LA. fe. 121 ANTIQUITIES. 1. On the Origin of romantic Fabling in Iveland. By Joseph Cooper Walker, M. R.1. A. &c. He. Communicated by Wm. Preston, Esq. M.R.L.A. fe. = = - - - - - = i Li lg ERRATA. a POLITE LITERATURE. 151, line 16, dele cap. 152,,——.10, for Helas read Hellas. 155, —— 5, for Greeks read Greek historians. 167, ——- 13, dele the. SCIENCE. VOL. xX, B DESCRIPTION OF AN APPARATUS FOR ‘TRANSFERRING GASSES OVER WATER OR MERCURY, &c. Bre yes “BY THE REV. GILBERT, AUSTIN, M.R.I.4. ddd 0} ascoe Taye hrs ) ) Om ef 6 OY aeap, juty 4, 1803. Dire: difficulty of tabi gasses from one jar or re- ceiver to: another, without: loss, or mixture ‘of atmospheric air, by ‘the Common’ mode in’ the pneumatic apparatus, must Have ' been! experienced often ‘by ‘philosophical che- mists.’ And ‘this’ difficulty ‘is encreased’ when ‘very large jars are ‘used, ‘and’ when’ the’ production of gas in them is inconsiderable; as whet oxygen’ gas is obtained from vege- tables | nape to light, or from ‘the decomposition | of owater.' “Of the small quantity, obtained’in this manner, a portion is ‘often lost in transferring it into a smaller jar for the purpose of subjecting it to examination; and the result of the ‘experiment “is rendered uncertain, if the object -be |to¢measure the quantity. ‘In order to obviate this in- coiivenience, I beg leave to ‘submit to the Royal Irish Aca- Genny: the description’ of ‘a small apparatus, which I have vi BL eh found A: found to answer well, and conceive may be admitted as a useful instrument into a philosophical laboratory. The princi pal part of this apparatus consists of two pieces of plate glass, with a hole of about half an inch diameter drilled through each. They should be something broader, and about twice as long, as the diameter of the jars used in collecting and transferring the gasses.. The holes should be disposed as in the figure. That in the plate (Fig. 1.), marked (a), should be nearly in the middle of the piece. The hole in the upper plate (+), near the extreme edge. The upper plate is shorter than the under plate, and its edge is ground fair and straight, so as to fit the edge of the third plate, which is not drilled, and should be a square piece cut off the second plate, as it is very necessary that these two. plates, should, be of the same thickness. .'The length of these plates cogether should, exceed that, of the under plate about an inch. ; It is rather better, to grind the polish off the plates with a little fine emery, as they slide more equably over each other when so_ prepared. All the jars to be used with them should have their mouths ground on a flat plate with fine emery. Things being thus prepared, the transferring plates may be used _in the following manner, particularly when the jars for collecting the gasses. are large. When the jars, inverted in the usual manner in. the pneumatic trough, are filled with the gas in any propor- tion, the two plates (@ and 8) are laid over each other in such a situation, that their holes shall not coincide; they are 5 are then plunged into the water, and the plate (b) applied to the mouth of the jar, and that and the plate (a) being mode- rately ‘pressed against the mouth, so that they shall not slip, or suffer any gas to escape, the jar, together with the plates, _ is lifted out of the water, and set with the mouth turned up. In‘ this position the jar is ready for yielding the gas to the jar into which it is to be transferred. ‘This last jar is now to be filled with water, taking care not to leave any air in it, and its mouth is to be closed by the third plate: It is then to be turned with its mouth downwards, and, together with the third plate on which it stands, is to: be placed on ‘that part of the under plate which is not covered by the upper plate. The edges of the third and upper plate are placed as nearly as possible in con- tact; and across them the small jar, filled with water, is to be slided till it rests entirely on the upper plate. The hole in the upper plate is to be filled with a few drops of water, and the jar is to be slided so as to stand over it. The upper plate, and the jar standing upon it, are then to be so moved over the under plate, that the holes in each shall coincide.. 'The water in'the upper jar, as soon as the communication is thus opened, will descend into the lower or magazine jar, and’ be supplied with an equal bulk of gas) from below at pleasure. When a sufficient quantity is transferred thus into the upper jar, it is pushed, to- gether with its plate, in’ such a manner that the holes shall no longer coincide, and, consequently, the communication shall be cut off. The upper jar is slided back upon the third plate, | 6 plate, and, together with the plate, is removed in the same manner as it was applied... The mouth of the jar is turned upwards, the plate removed, and the gas submitted to exa- mination; or, with mouth, downwards, the small jar is placed on the shelf of the pneumatic trough, as the experiment may require. . This detail appears tedious, but the practice is very easy. ; In this process there is, however, some danger of dis- turbing, the lower plate, by lifting it from the mouth of the magazine jar, and so vitiating the gas by the introduction of common air. , To preyent this inconvenience, it is neces- sary to secure the two, perforated plates to the mouth of the jar, and to,each other, allowing the upper plate, at the same time, to, slide ireely, oyer the other. For this purpose, it is necessary to fix the plates, and the magazine jar, ina frame; which renders the use of them very convenient, and ‘not liable to accidental disturbance. The. two.plates (¢.and.b), as in Fig. 1., are fixed in the upper part of the frame: (a) is fastened, (b) slides easily over it. The jar (d) is pressed up against the plate (a), by a moveable bottom, (k), tightened by wedges or screws. The jar may, be, filled with water before it is fixed in the frame, and inverted. in, the trough; or the air may be generated in the jars without the, frame, and then, the frame: being in- verted, and the plates. sunk in the water, the jar may be slipped into its place, and fixed there, which is the better way. The frame and jar are. then set upright, and the gas may be transferred as ieetore, without danger of loss or mixture. ; By a By means of this apparatus, jars of any size may be used as magazines, without the inconvenience of being obliged to invert them in large trouglis. ‘This apparatus, ‘ial on a smaller scale, may be used in operating with those gasses which can only be confined over mercury. ~The joints of the transferring plates retain very securely any quantity of mercury, provided, the. height of the jar is inconsiderable, not more than three or four inches, for reasons well known to experimental philosophers. And small jars, with ground mouths, hold mercury very well, when standing, without agitation, with their mouths down- wards, on ground plates of glass. The careful operator will, however, gently press them to prevent accidents. This ap- paratus may be so far reduced in size, that, on a small scale, all operations. on gasses ‘only to be’ corifined over mercury, may be performed with about four or five pounds of mer- cury: which may, in many cases, be an object of attention. to the philosophical chemist. — ee ere ea FIG. 1. (a) The sha plate; the dotted line marks the encumpierenice of the mouth of the magazine jar. (0) "The: upper plate. (e) The third plate} the dots mark the irelaitbtenied of the mouth "of thé small jar. The small dark circle shews the place of “the holes, ae . FIG. FIG. 2 (abc) The section of the plates, (as in a 1.) (d) The magazine jar. (e) The small jar., 4 selinade (f) The.dotted jar shews how the small jar is ae pocdue with, the third plate (c), before it is slided across the ecg (g). of that and the upper plate. FIG, 3. (abc) The plates as before, but fixed in (h) The frame. : (d) The lower or magazine jar, (as in Fig. 2.) wedged up Pagans the under plate, by (k) The moveable bottom. ! - (e) The small jar to be filled with gas from the oe jar. FIG. 4. ° A SMALL APPARATUS FOR OPERATING WITH MERCURY. (abc) The plates as before. (d) The small jar, four inches high, with a broad rim, by which the lower plate may be confined to its mouth, together with a frame in which the upper and third plates may slide. This frame may be made of hard wood, of ivory, or of iron. (g) A Servence L770. ty 9 (g) A section of a wooden box, to hold as much mercury as will cover the plates and frame, and admit the bent tube of (z) A small retort or vial, with a bent tube, for generating the gas which passes through the hole of the plates, (m) A small spirit lamp. (n) A tube, fixed so in the box, that the mercury, descending from (d) as the gas is generated, shall overflow, and be received in a cup; with which small jars may be filled for transferring. VOL. X. Cc i say x " , L "S? oa Py nd Theeieipet, a is ‘ PS Tats Yi Ay 2’ em AN ACCOUNT OF A‘’NEW SEMI-METALLIC SUBSTANCE, CALLED MENACANE, AND ITS ORES, BY THE LATE G. MITCHEL, M.B. * —~ 628/619 G00 READ, yULY 4‘, 1803: SINCE the discovery of Menacane by Mr. Gregor, the di- stinguishing properties of the peculiar metallic substance it contains have been so fully developed, and satisfactorily ascertained, by the united exertions of Kirwan, Klaproth, Vauquelin and Lampadius, that little is left to wish for, so far as the chemical characters are concerned. As an object of natural history, it has, as yet, been little attended to. It is therefore hoped, the following attempt, to supply in some measure that deficiency, so far as the present data allow it, will prove acceptable to the naturalist. It is scarcely neces- sary to observe, that I follow Werner’s method most exactly ; as it is to him that we are indebted for the successful vindi- cation of Mineralogy, as an independent province in the foederal state of natural: history; and which acknowledges, in Chemistry, the powerful and indispensable ally, not the imperious and arbitrary lawgiver. Of the genus Menac we are already acquainted with five species or ores. It is, however, sufficiently probable, that c 2 several 12 several new species will, at no distant period, be added to the list; and that this metal is more widely distributed, and more generally diffused, and. plays, perhaps, a more im- portant part, than is at present suspected. MENAC, GENUS. F ie 1. Rutile. Tribe of Rutile-- ft Rutilite. 3. Nigrine, Tribe of Menacane <4. Menacane. 5. serine. FIRST SPECIES. RUTILE.* Titanite of Kirwan. Rutil of Werner. Sagenite of Saussure. EXTERNAL CHARACTERS. The colour varies from light hyacinth to dark brownish red. Is found crystallized. 1°. In * Probably the anatase of Hauy is a variety of Rutile.—R. J. 13 1°. In right angled four-sided prisms, acuminated by four planes, which are set on the lateral planes. 2°. In six-sided prisms, which are said sometimes to ex- hibit a tendency to a six-sided acumination. 3°. In acicular and capilliform crystals, whose regular shape is no, longer determinable, and which are, moreover, strongly compressed. , The crystals are longitudinally eae often very deeply ; are commonly small, and very small, rarely middle sized. The acicular are, often fascicularly aggregated: the capilli- form crystals are often in a singular, manner reticulated, the interstices forming equilateral triangles: exteriorly, shining and moderately glistening; Amerie hy glistening; the lustre adamantine. The principal fracture i is fabated with a two-fold cleavage, cutting each other at right angles :. the transverse fracture is imperfect and minute conchoidal. The fragments. are cubical. It sometimes exhibits slender, columnar, distinct con- cretions. , Is usually translucent, sometimes only translucent at the edges.. ie Hard. Brittle. Gives a pale. orange, yellow, streak. tis: easily frangible, . Heavy, in.an_ inferior degree, about 4, 200. OBSERVATIONS. 14 OBSERVATIONS. The larger crystals, particularly those from Hungary, are often curved, have frequent transverse rifts, are sometimes broken intirely across, the ends removed to some distance from one another, and the interstices filled up with the sub- stance of which the matrix consists ; sometimes two crystals meet under an angle more or less obtuse, and are joined like the corner of a frame. “The crystals are, moreover, subject to great irregularities, are seldom fully crystallized, and, therefore, rarely acuminated; the four-sided prisms are often slightly rhomboidal; the six-sided prisms, from Hungary, are usually dilated, and seem composed of accumulated acicular crystals, from whence arise the columnar distinct concre- tions; the six-sided prisms, from France, are said to originate from the truncation of two opposite lateral edges of the four- sided prism; the capilliform crystals are sometimes coloured green, from chlorite earth. By some authors, this fossil has been said to resemble red silver ore; but the slightest ac- quaintance with the oryctognostical characters is sufficient to shew the difference; a geognostical character also fur- nishes us here with an easy means of distinguishing this fossil from other ores of a red colour. Rutile is generally of co- temporaneous formation with its associated fossils; whereas red silver ore, red orpiment, &c. being formed in veins, are always of later formation than the rock on which they are seated. 15 seated. Some systematic writers have confounded it with tubellite, with’ which it has scarcely two characters in common. CHEMICAL CHARACTERS. Without. addition, or even with phosphoric salts, it is infusible by the heat of the common blow-pipe; with bo- rax_or alkali, it affords a hyacinth red transparent. glass; with the heat excited by pure air, it. gives a milk white bead, and suffers a considerable loss of weight. It is in- soluble in the mineral acids, before it. has been. melted with alkali, but yields readily to acid of sugar; is preci- pitable by acid of galls with a bright red, and. by prus- sian alkali with an handsome dark green, colour. The method of analysis I shall. omit, as belonging properly to mineralogical chemistry; the. result has shewn that this fossil consists wholly of the calx of Menac. GEOGRAPHIC DISTRIBUTION. This fossil has hitherto’ been discovered. in but few places, and in moderate quantity, principally near Rose- nau in Upper Hungary; in Mount St. Gothard in Swit- zerland ; in Fischthal in the high mountains of Saltzburg; near St. Yrieux in France;.in the province of Burgos in Spain; in the forest of Speysart, near Aschaffenberg, in Franconia; at Beresooskoi in Siberia, and Olapian in Tran- -Silvania. GEOGNOSTIC 16 yieve O1HOM GEOGNOSTIC OCCURRENCE.’ The Hungarian rutile is found imbedded in a "ind ‘of quartz, passing into rock crystal, and forming nests in mica slate; it is therefore of cotemporaneous formation with the rock in which it lies. ‘That from St. Gothard in Switzer- land occurs partly in those drusy cavities, which | are not unfrequent in granific mountains’ of ‘high antiquity, lying in‘or upon the rock’ crystal, adularia, and foliated chlo- rite, with which those cavities are lined, ahd partly dis- persed through, or seated in,’ the scarcely perceptible clefts of one of those nameless chloritic rocks, which’ abound so much throughout the Alps ‘in general. That from Aschaf- ‘ fenberg is said to occur in- ‘granite; that from Saltzburg is found arbedauers in’ massive common tremolite. The rutile from Spain and Siberia is imbedded in rock crystal. It would therefore appear that this fossil lays claim to great antiquity, the time of its production falling within the period of the earlier primitive rocks, and that the metal it con- tains probably surpasses, in that respect, tin, molybdena and tungsten, vieipg even with iron and manganese.* 4 iavol oi :yuegaul } «i The * Von Buch ‘has discovered futile in Jayers’ of quartz, in baal Lake (Thon- schiefer), near Miihlbach in Saltaburgs! in the’ Vicinity of metallic layers, ‘con- sisting of copper glance, copper pyrites, iron pyrites,, nickel, and rarely: native copper: also on the mountain Brennkogl, in the valley of, Fusch; | where it occurs in mica slate, either yeticularly aggregated in rifts, or in acicular crystals, accompanied by those «singular cylindrically aggregated crystals of foliated chlorite, in venules of almost coeval formation with the rock itself.— Buch’s Geognostische Beobachtungen. R. J. Rutile Ly - The above description has. been chiefly. taken from an attentive examination of the . specimens | of.rutile exist- ing in the best collections of Vienna and Saxony. SECOND SPECIES. RUTILITE. Calcareo-siliceous titan ore of Kirwan. set ag of Klaproth. EXTERNAL CHARACTERS. | The colour varies from ‘brownish red to dark, reddish brown. to. 4 Has been hitherto found only crystallized in very rhom- boidal four-sided prisms, acutely bevelled at the extremi- ties, the bevelling planes set on the obtuse lateral edges. The crystals are small, and very small, seldom middle sized. - Exteriorly, they are shining. Interiorly, glistening, vith a resinous lustre. _ The fracture is imperfect and minute conchoidal, pass- ing into the uneven. The fragments are NELGS PCIE angular, tolerably sharp edged. VOL. X. D a = The Rutile has also been discovered by Von Humboldt, on the summit of a mountain near Caraccia, in New Granada, at the height of 1316 toises.—R. J. 18 The transparency varies, ‘from translucent, through trans- lucent at the edges, to opaque. — Is semihard, bordering upon hard. Brittle. Gives a greyish white streak. Is easily frangible. Not particularly heavy, approaching the heavy (3,500). OBSERVATIONS. The lateral planes meet alternately under angles of 135° and 45. From the foregoing fossil it is sufficiently dis- tinguished by crystallization, fracture, inferior hardness, and specific gravity. From grenatite it may readily be dis- criminated, by the difference in crystallization, fracture, and sort of lustre. CHEMICAL CHARACTERS. Before the blow-pipe it suffers no change, nor in the heat of a porcelain furnace, when exposed in an earthen crucible; but in a crucible of charcoal it melts to an imperfect black glass, owing to the partial reduction of the metallic contents. With considerable difficulty, and only by repeated digestion, marine acid dissolves a third part. of the weight of this fossil, consisting partly of the menac contents. Klaproth, from whom these characters are taken, found it to consist of nearly equal parts menac-calx, silex, and lime, to which Vauquelin joins a large portion of iron calx. GEOGNOSTIC 19 ‘GEOGNOSTIC OCCURRENCE. In the mountains of Passau, this fossil is found imbed- ded in a coarse granular aggregate of felspar and _horn- blende, and felspar and actynolite; therefore belong- ing to the genus green-stone, and order of primitive trap. In Norway it occurs in rocks belonging to the same for- mation, in which the celebrated layers of magnetic iron ore lie, and is associated with hornblende, and several individuals of a tribe not as yet sufficiently examined and described, but which evidently constitute middle links be- tween actynolite and hornblende, and to which the names arendalite and acanticone have been applied. Near Dresden and Briinn it is found dispersed through sienite; and at Galway in Ireland, in an uncommonly beautiful porphy- ritic sienite. ‘Hence it. appears, that this fossil. has. only. occurred in rocks belonging to primitive trap, .or in ‘sienite; ‘the last erystallization which took place within the primitive period, and must therefore be considered as a ‘later production ‘than rutile. ‘Here aconsideration of the laws of \crystallization .countenances the observations on the order in which the primitive rocks follow one another. The rutile, consisting of few and simple elements of co- temporary origin, with a‘granitey in) which rock crystal occupies the ;place of quartz; and adulana that of com- mon felspar, sufficiently bespeaks a period, when the -so- lution being’ purer:and» more tranquil, furnished an earlier and purer crop of crystals; while the confused and irre- D 2 gular 20 gular crystallization of primitive trap and sienite, tegether with the greater impurity of the felspar, and very com- pounded nature of the hornblende and rutilite, indicate an inferior purity of the solution, and, consequently, later pre- cipitation of the crystallized mass. THIRD SPECIES. NIGRINE. Nigrin of Werner. EXTERNAL CHARACTERS. The colour is dark brownish black, passing into velvet black. Is found in larger and. smaller angular grains, and pebbles. Externally, moderately glistening. _ Internally, principal fracture. is glistening; the transverse fracture moderately glistening. Lustre, adamantine. The principal fracture is imperfectly foliated, with a single cleavage; the transverse fracture is flat, and imper- fectly conchoidal. The fragments are indeterminately angular, and sharp- edged. : Perfectly Perfectly opaque, Semihard.. | Brittle... Gives a. yellowish brown streak. Heavy, in a,moderate degree (4,500). OBSERVATIONS. This fossil is readily distinguished from menacane, by its stronger lustre and superior hardness, the colour of the streak, and by its not being in the least magnetic ; which also sufficiently distinguishes it from iserine and iron sand.* Being found in company with fragments of rutile of a dark colour, the latter has by most been con- founded under the same denomination ; but the red colour of the rutile, joined to its perfectly foliated fracture, with a two-fold cleavage, intersecting ‘each other at right an- gles, and the thence resulting cubical fragments, distin- guish it sufficiently from nigrine. : f “The present description is taken from a specimen I had: the pleasure of receiving from Professor J acquine the younger, of Vienna. ~ CHEMICAL CHARACTERS. The nigrine is infusible per se by the blow-pipe; but, with the assistance of borax, it melts to a transparent, hya- cinth __* Genuine iron sand must not be confounded with magnetic iron ore AVA Gh i ¥;3 = inta' sandy form, which usually passes under that name. 22 cinth red bead: to acid of sugar, it readily yields its menac contents, which furnishes the characteristic precipitate of this genus. Klaproth and Lampadius have given us the constituent ingredients, 8 or 9 per cent. menac calx, and 2 or 1 calx of iron. It is probable, however, that the propor- tion of menac calx is over-rated; it appearing evident, from the description accompanying the analysis, that there had been no care taken to select the nigrine from the grains of rutile which accompany it. GEOGNOSTIC OCCURRENCE. - The nigrine has been hitherto found only _ at Ohlapian, in Transylyania, in alluvial hills, consisting of y ellow sand, in- termixed with fragments and bowlders of, granite, gneiss, and mica slate, and from which gold is obtained by. washing. This gold is the purest found in Transylvania ; a circum- stance sufficiently indicating, that it belongs toa differ ent, and, consequently, earlier Ee cerntem than the usual Tran- sylvanian native gold, which occurs there in clay, porphyry, grey wacce, and grey wacee slate, and belongs to the brass yellow variety, from the considerable alloy of silver which it contains. In these stream works, the nigrine is obtained at the same time with the gold, and comes to us intermixed with grains-of rutile; oriental garnet, native iron, cyanite, and:common sands which renders.it extremely probable, that this fossil, also, is a native of the primitive mountains. - FOURTH. — 23 FOURTH SPECIES. MENACANE. Menachanite of Kirwan. Menacan of Werner. EXTERNAL CHARACTERS. Is of a greyish black colour, inclining somewhat to iron black. Only: met with in. pute small, flattish, hte grams, which» have a‘ rough, glimmering) surface. ‘Internally; moderately glistening, with adamantine lustre, passing into the semi-metallic. The fracture is Bem foliated, approaching to the slaty. The unas are indeterminately angular, and sharp- edged. Perfectly opaque. Is. soft. «Brittle. Retains its colour in the streak. » Easily frangible. Heavy, in a moderate degree (4,427). OBSERVATIONS. 24 OBSERVATIONS. This fossil has been said, but erroneously, to have much resemblance to iron sand, from which it may be easily distinguished by the fracture, lustre, and inferior specific gravity. PHYSICAL AND CHEMICAL CHARACTERS. Menacane is attractable by the magnet, but much more weakly than iron sand, or magnetical iron ore; it is infusible by the common blow-pipe, or heat of a porcelain furnace, exposed ina coal crucible, but melts, when in contact with a clay one; it also melts quickly to a black bead, before a blow-pipe ‘animated by pure air. . The menae contents may be easily extracted by digestion with acid of sugar. Kla- proth and Lampadius, about the same time, have shewn, that it consists of nearly equal parts menac and iron calces. GEOGNOSTIC OCCURRENCE. This fossil has hitherto been only found, accompanied by fine quartz sand, in the bed of a rivulet, which washes the valley of Manachan, in Cornwall. The neighbouring mountains belong to the primitive order, in which, most probably, the menacane formerly constituted a superficial layer; but, by their decomposition, and consequent degra- dation, 25 dation, by means of rains and floods, the earthy parts have ~ been carried off, and the heavier metallic fragments col- lected in the valley. FIFTH SPECIES. ISERINE. Tserin of Werner. EXTERNAL CHARACTERS. The colour is iron black, inclining a little to brownish black. Is found in small, obtuse, angular grams, and in pebbles, with a somewhat rough, strongly glimmering surface. Internally, it is shining, with semi-metallic lustre. Fracture is more or less perfectly conchoidal. _ Fragments are indefinitely angular, and sharp-edged. Perfectly opaque. Hard. Brittle. Retains its colour in the streak. Is heavy, in a moderate degree (4,500). VOL. X. E OBSERVATIONS. 26. tae OBSERVATIONS. Of all fossils, this has the strongest resemblance to iron sand; into which, as Mr. Werner first observed, it actually graduates, but may be distinguished from it by the shade of brown in its colour;. by, its. superior.external, and inferior internal lustre; by its less specific gravity; but, chiefly, by being only slightly, and that- by, a,.powerful magnet, attract- ible. From nigrine and menacane, it differs sufficiently in fracture and lustre. This, as well as nigrine, was first con- sidered as a particular species by Werner; both which deter- minations were afterwards confirmed by, the analysis. CHEMICAL. CHARACTERS. As in, the foregoing species, the menac calx may here be readily, extracted. by acid, of sugar, the residuum being dis- solved in aqua regia: on the addition of tartarised tartarin, a lemon yellow powder falls to the bottom, which is tartarised menac; what remains in the solution is iron. Lampadius, to whom we owe the analysis, found that menac and iron are here in a decreasing proportion; the latter amounting to about 20 per cent. --7> ee February . . | 30,50 13th, var. N. E. to W. 4th, var. W. to S... | March... .|30,80 | 14th, N. and E. .....-- 21st, W. and W. by S. by oieais 40,598 At, Es a ele me Ser BOGS fee: 8 30,50 | 14th and gsth, EF. and W. | 29,66 | 24th, var. FE. to W. September . | $0,66 | 26th, W. ..--+-+s+ee- October .. {30,60 |\15th, var. E.S. W...... November .} 30,42 | 8th and 9th, N. E.—N. W. December . | 30,60 | 18th, W. MEAN OF V Py | THE YEAR$§|” 7 BY RICHARD KIRWAN, ESQ. L.L.D. F.R.S. P.R.I.A. &c. BAROMETER. THERMOMETER. RAIN. SYNOPTICAL VIEW OF THE STATE OF THE WEATHER AT DUBLIN, IN THE YEAR 13802. READ, JAN. 24, 1804. STORMS. 8 2 MEAN HIGHEST | Lowest MEAN 1802. NIGHEST. DAY IT HAPPENED. LOMEET DAY 11% HAPPENED, 0: CEE pao Bsa NUMBER OF DAYS. INCHES, NO. WINDS THAT PREVAILED, MONTH, || Day. MONTH. January ..|30,56 | 22d and 23d, W....... 99,34 | 31st, S.W. .....-+ | 80,085 52, 14. On 4 of which some snow, ... 1,024653 3. W.—S. W. February ..|30,50 | 13th, var. N. E. to W. 29,36 | 4th, var. W. to S...| 29,95 55,50 17. On 5 of which some snow, ... 1,418751 2. Var. S. W.—W.—N. W.—W. = vie 8 (30380) |) 14th; INevand (We. etene 6 29,16 | 2ist,W. and W.byS.} 30,57 60, 11. On 1 some snow, and 6 some hail, 1,103473 2. W. by S.—W. April..... SOpE Gn | MZOtMwlon sy ais¥enstaeectawelte pene 99,55 | 26th, S.W........ 29,225 66, 23. On 2 some snow, and 4 some hail, 0,867014 | + Milyisve sity AOC YW GA Wh pencn pa onan OUT WZOU SIO. tele si els (sis 2 « 30,28 712, lf. On, 5 some snow, ....-...+ . 0,656816 wos o 30,6 21st, I Dovod | Oths Saw... . «1 « |) S0:086 12, AO Wereketeretayatatel eas tate) + Petey etadaisietee 1,58952 OO. PE Ota ce and-ogia ao EP to [Sty Wisc ts vie: chore) ohatay | MESOLOST 69,5 OT irwe ofiaize) aivaviei enahejloteNlioneenveas siisiaia ins 4,256255 t. W. August 30,50 | 14th and gsth, ©. and W. | 29,66 | 2kth, var. KE. to W. | 30,18 716, cntogcoo op pared 6 aunoU 2,285765 = — | nn September . | 40,66] 26th, W. ............ bat), Wl Mie eee dai 30,207 Tl, | 4 14. On 1 some hail fell, .......- 1,497570 . October ../30,60 |\I5th, var. ES. W...... 29,34 | 25th, S.W. to S. E. 29,885 70, 20, On 1 some hail fell, ........ $,229599 ia Vis = $$ November .| 30,42 | Sth and 9th, N. &.—N. W. | 29,10 | 29d, S..-........ 29,88 53, Tse, 45,365 CIAO coe OL. Lcd oe tirLotbG 60 $,822745 Ne epa0 December |$BO}GO o | CSth, We cielo +) cists cere) ols 29,00 | 29th, S.S.E. 2.2...) 29589 51, | 26,5 39,64 18. On 2 of which somesleet,.... 6,226619'|) 3. S, E.—E.—N.—S. S. E, fEA F . u | THE YEA z 29,387 30,021 | 48,637 || 222. Number of rainy days. 27,91878 13. Total in the year. SYNOPTICAL VIEW O BY RICHARI BAROMETER. 1803. HIGHEST. DAY IT HAPPENED. LOWEST. DAY IT HAPPENED. January ..| 30, PUNE Shae) stata avatiets ies 5 oa 17th, var. S. S. W. E. February .. March... ..| 30,52 | SUSAN ic alc esr aya folet shen (e ad, N. at night, ... ” ees a 30,70 | 12th, E....... peer ae Ay 2ist, W. by N..... Pb: ae 30,68 | 18th, N. to E. .......- DAIS T Washes 2 oh ai raed ae 30,77 | 26th, E 30,70 | 15th, E August ... | September . | 30,77 October .. |.30,66 November .| 30,57 MEAN OF THE ey. { [Ps December . | 30,60 .-| Ist, W. cS 30,64 29,42 33 7 SYNOPTICAL VIEW OF THE STATE OF THE WEATHER AT DUBLIN, P : = IN THE YEAR 1803. BY RICHARD KIRWAN, ESQ. L.L.D. F.R.S. P.R.LA. &c. ‘ READ, JAN. 24, 1804. BAROMETER. THERMOMETER. RAIN. STORMS. MEAN || nicuesr| rowest | MEAN TBO) ironsis: DAY IT HAPPENED. towest.| DAY IT HAPPENED. or THE inTHE |, aT or THE NUMBER OF DAYS. INCHES, NO, WINDS THAT PREVAILED. ; MonTH. || Day. | NIGHT.| MONTH. January ..| 30,60 EHUHAGOH OOS 29,07 | 9th, E. by N...... 29,85 51, 18. And on 5 fell some snow, ....- 1,9042968 3. E. by N. FE. February . . | 30,60 | ith Phadagenoad +...» | 29,37 | 17th, var. S.S.W. E. || 30,05 55, 18. And on 2 fell some snow, .... 1,261112 3. N. W.—W.—S. W. March, ...| 30,52 | WAM MiG Bio adonanccane 29,76 | 2d, N. at night, ... 30,26 63, 16. And on 4 fell slight snow,.... 1,418751 Thunder and Lightning. April..... $0370) ||| 1atby We -)- «= hegone oN) CEH || ENS Milo Dee Gono 30,02 59,50 14. On 9 fell hail, and on 1 snow, , 1,497570 2. W.S. W. jee . WEN An oan 30,68) |}; 18th, N, to HB. 2. .6... SIE eR SAMY oo boon 30,19 68, 15. On 1 sleet, and on 2 hail,.... 1,9599858 dine. .s.. BOTT |NZ6tHewWenets iiss Onnoumod || EBA | Bib Shi05 ob oon ocd 30,26 71, 40, 57,49 WRG rodeo O1atLo Gt donb oon do0.05 0,945834 ‘\ } } AM ig orn JON TOY | VAs Wesson ano 0 BE ECTO) WEIS SH. tao-0 0 on Oe 30,36 79,50} 49, 63,60 Whose oDmood pals Ord opal ob 0,341538 = | i | ONES Soa OHA PCN, Who oo oncOon cone BQO) PSUS SeaWVie! el civil ene on 30,25 716,50 | 43, 59,91 17. And on 1 some hail,........ 1,339931 Thunder and Lightning. | September..|| 30,771 «| 4th, By... .-.000+ . 00s 29,67 | 20th, E. to W. ....| 30,39 10, 38, 54,05 PE oC aT SRR Othe OD evacuees 0,551736 i — = HOM os Pleas | VRE IS Anon boncooad Lie) | Wadn Milo aoocccas 30,30 63, 35, 49,78 We portod Gb ouoduo Gana aaaoNS 0,210178 1S, We | November . | 30,57 | 6th, S. EW. ......+...0+ OB HG Msnonoo bao 29,70 53, 22,50 | 40,95 18. And on 2 fell some snow, .... 2,926420 Ne Nile | : a December si S0,G0)r| lst Wien cyeusieneteraver terse) Pee) Wes Sh gonodgooe 29,69 54, 21| 40,89 23. And on 3 fell some snow, .... 5,320228 7. E. S. E.—W. and S. ; | MEAN OF )| ,. | , 7 THE yEAR | 22254 29,42 30,11 49,16 193. On 17 of which fell snow, 19,67748 17. Total in the year. + C0) N T ~ a “VOLCANIC THEORY. BY. THE REV. WILLIAM RICHARDSON, D. D,. “LATE ipl oF cmviTt ‘COLLEGE, Duan. } 1.9% 199 cOMMUNICATED BY fHE, RIGHT. REY: aE LORD BISHOE OF DROMOREs ~ tine art Yo sf READ; DEC» 10°", 1804, ao PARE EXAMINATION OF MR. DESMAREST’S MEMOIR, th PRRLBHED IN THE TRANSACTIONS. OF THE ACADEMY OF SCIENCES, , golisots olf Uo .eoed Sy THEIYESS ATT» § O) (£005 Maven’! sr) roscat. srBt, PERONATUS ARATOR , LUCIVERI RUDIS, EXCLAMAT MELICERTA, PERISSE vuoW rex DE nent } : iG BELIEVE I need not enter into any proof, that the theory, which makes Basalt a volcanic production, and once fluid lava, was invented by Mr. Desmarest s the friends, as wellas the enemies, of this opinion, | ‘are’ unanimous in ascribing it to him alone. Dr. Hamilton (Lett.I.. Part II.) _ calls’ him, the ingenious father of the Volcanic Theory; and Mr. Raspe. says,“ if it deserves any, praise to have. first hit.on.a lucky. hypothesis, it, cannot, possibly be denied to me Mr. Desmarest;” and’ Mr. Kirwan; while he’ combats the opinion, | calls Mr. Desmarest,, the father of the Volcanic Theory, ; Cae di \ #5 In 36 In discussing a philosophical question, it may not, at first view, seem very -important, to determine with whom the opinion originated ; but Mr. Locke tells us, that, in the case of propositions whereof we have no certainty, but only some inducements to receive them for true, the grounds of proba- bility are to be considered; and, where the question turns on the testimony of others, we are to look to the number, the integrity, the skill, of the witnesses, and the design of the author, if it be a book, &c. Now, I have shewn already, from the letter, of which Mr. Desinarest himself was bearer,* that his design, in making observations in natural history, was to enable him to combat the account, given by Moses, of the creation of the world, particularly in its date——I do not mean to avail myself any farther, of this discovery of Mr. Desmarest’s in- tentions, than as an excuse for examining his Memoir with more minuteness, than it is probable I would otherwise have done; and, also, for cautioning those who read it, to be on their guard against the statements of an, ex parte writer—If the merit of an author is to be estimated by the'success of his work, 1 do not know any man, who, in this point of | + | view, * Tt is to the following tenor :—* This letter, my dear companion, will be ‘* delivered to you by Desmarest, a man of merit and sound philosophy, who *« wishes to pay his respects to you, on his journey to Italy, where he purposes “* to make such observations in natural history, as may very well give the lie to ‘© Moses. He will not say a word of this to the master of the Sacred Palace, but ‘« if, perchance, he should discover, that the world is more ancient than even “* the Septuagint pretend, he will not keep it a secret from you.” (Lettr. 137. An. 1763, as quoted by Baruel, Memoircs de Jacobinisme, Tom. I. p. 151.) 3 37 view, can compare with Mr. Desmarest. He made, as he Says, a discovery in natural history, which had hitherto escaped the most penetrating philosophers. He published a new theory, and the world instantly adopted his opinions; and with such zeal, that we find many respectable writers, of the time, catch at opportunities (even out of their way) to express their approbation of them. . It is a bold undertaking to convince the world, that it has been in the wrong; nor can I expect a favourable reception, Dum veteres avias tibi de pulmone revello: and the rather, as I have a double task to perform; for E must not only shew, that Mr. Desmarest’s opinions are perfectly unfounded, but I have also to account for their miraculous propagation. In this latter part, I have the assistance of the same person, who discovered to us Mr. Desmarest’s original in- tention, Abbé Barruel; who states, that, at the time the Memoir was published, upon which the whole theory rests, (1771), the public opinion, in philosophical matters, was very much governed by the authority of the Academy of Sciences; the leading members of which were all Mr. Desmarest’s associates in his hostility to Moses, and in pursuit of the same end (the extirpation of Christianity); that they countenanced, or rather puffed, all opinions -which they (being in the confidence of the authors) knew had a tendency to favour their grand object. VOL. x. attire ale ‘This 38 ° ‘This charge, against so respectable a body as the Aca- demy of Sciences, is, I admit, too general; especially as it is made by an author of decided partiality. It, there- fore, requires some more direct proof to establish it, and from a less suspected source. Such evidence, I apprehend, will be readily found, and in the Transactions of the Aca- demy itself. In general, when a memoir was approved, and pub- lished by that Society, a precis, or abridgment of it, was prefixed at the beginning of the volume. This was the business of an officer, called the Historian of the Academy: of course, while the memcir rested upon the authority of its author alone, the precis had the sanction of the Academy itself, which took this method of an- nouncing to the world, the opinion that body entertained on the subject. Two passages, in the precis of Mr. Demarest’s Memoir, mark the zeal with which the Academy took up this ques- tion; and prove, that its members were as little scrupu- lous, as Mr. Demarest himself, about the means they made use of, to support a favourite opinion, which they were told, by its author, would be useful in furthering their grand scheme. _ In this precis, the Historiographer of the Academy makes two assertions, obviously decisive on the question, if ad- mitted to be true: he says, “* Almost every where, basalt is found mixed with scoria ;” and “ all known volcanos are accompanied by masses * of basalt.” After 39 After two such clear and positive assertions, so conclu-~ sive to the point, and from such authority, it is not sur- -prizing, that the world should implicitly adopt an opinion so effectually supported. But, as Mr. Desmarest’s object in inventing this the- ory, the tendency of his opinions, and the use to which he meant to apply them, are now fortunately discovered, I hope to be excused, for requesting the public to rally a little, and to examine into the truth of these positions of the Academy, that have, no doubt, contributed much to accredit the theory, which ascribes to basalt a volcanic origin. As to the first, that basalt is almost every where found mixed with scoria, the obvious mode of ascertaining its truth seems to be, an examination of the accounts, given by respectable writers, of different countries, where basalt has been found; and I begin with Egypt, where it seems to have been first noticed. Egypt has never been supposed a volcanic country; nor does the place, where Strabo. found basalt, bear any marks of the irregularity of surface, the necessary effect of volcanic eruptions; for Strabo describes it as a level plain, through which he drove in a chariot. Mr. Desma- rest himself, who must have been well acquainted with voleanic countries, is so little pleased with this account of Strabo’s, that, notwithstanding his known accuracy, he endeavours to invalidate his testimony, on the authority of Norden and Pococke. Still, however, the scoria of the Academy escapes them all. r 2 The 40 The next place I shall mention, is Haut Vivarois, de- scribed, by Mr. St. Fond, as an extensive basalt country, reaching all the way to the Loire, abounding wish basalt mountains of great elevation, buttes isoleés, and articulated prisms: but he expressly tells us, that the volcanic fea- tures and productions. have all disappeared; lavas or scoriz are never mentioned. Mr. Dolomieu, another sanguine advocate for the vol- canic origin of basalt, and also a friend of Mr. Desma- rest, was much surprised, when he found Lisbon situated in a basaltic country, without a single volcanic feature, or production; no scoria, as he expressly tells us. The late Dr. Gillan, who accompanied the Chinese em- bassy, seems to have paid great attention to volcanic mat- ters, wherever he met with them; yet, when he found columnar basalt at Rio Janeiro, he neither mentions sco- ria, nor any other volcanic production. Sir Joseph Banks gives us a most excellent account of the basaltic island of Staffa, with its magnificent colon- nades, and neat prisms; yet he does not mention a single volcanic matter; and I can scarcely think, that scoria would have escaped so accurate an observer. Mr. Ferber, Mr. Strange, and Mr. Saussure, tell us of columnar basalt in the Veronese and Vicentin, but take no notice of any scoria. Mr. Ferber, also, gives a particular account of different varieties of basalt at Bolsena, but looks in vain for volcanic features. The crater is gone, or buried in the lake, as he conjectures, and no mention of scoria. Tadd 41 I add, to the. countries abounding with basalt in co- lumns, among which scoria is not found, the county of Antrim, which I have carefully examined. The Historian of the Academy is not more fortunate in his second position on this subject, though he puts it with more confidence, and more generally. He says, “ all “ known volcanos are accompanied by, masses. of basalt.” The reader will scarcely expect, that it is to the friends of Mr. Desmarest, and: to. the advocates for the voleanic origin of basalt alone, 1 will have recourse, for the contradiction of this. unfounded assertion. Mr. Strange, our resident at Venice, at the time this theory came in fashion, publishes a geological letter in Viaggi di Tozzetti, in which he says, “ basalt prisms are “ admitted, dg. piu bravi. chimici et fisict moderni, to. be « yoleanic crystallizations;” and that such pillars have been discovered in the Veronese, in. the Euganean Hills, and also above Valdagno; whence he expresses. some surprise, that these .prisms should. be, as it were, peculiar to the Venetian territory; in the rest of Italy found at Bolsena alone; and not at all in the kingdom of Naples, though abounding with so many volcan phenomena. The next authority I shall quote, in contradiction to this general. assertion, is. that of Sir William. Hamilton ; who lets no opportunity escape him, of proving: his at- tachment to Mr. Desmarest’s theory... Our Baronet had - examined Vesuvius more frequently, and with ‘more care, than any other person ever did; and, not finding any ba- salt 49 salt upon it, thinks it necessary to account for a Yact SG hostile to his faveurite theory. He says, “ the basalts were * all carried off from Vesuvius, to make Roman roads.” T will not presume to comment on the conjecture of so zealous a naturalist; and, as he establishes for me the total want of basalt, on this theatre of his repeated observa- tions, I will, in my turn, admit, that he accounts satis- factorily for its disappearance from this volcano. But the same conjecture will not account for the want of basalt, at the volcanos of Madeira, Teneriff, or the Isle of Amsterdam, which Dr. Gillan examined carefully, with- out noticing a particle of basalt. The late Mr. Forster accompanied Captain Cook in his second voyage, undertaken soon after the publication of Mr. Desmarest’s Memoir, and avews his adoption of the volcanic theory; yet, though Mr. Forster paid the greatest attention, both to basalt, and volcanic productions, he appears never to have found them together in the same place. His testimony bears directly against the confident position of the Academy; for he found undeniable marks, that proved the existence of former volcanos, at St. Jago, at Huaheine, at Bolabola, at Ulietea, at Easter-island, at the Marquesas, at St. Helena, and at Ascension-island. He also found volcanos, actually burning, at Tanna, and at Ambrymm; but at not one of these places does he take notice of any basalt. Yet his observations at Otaheite and New Zealand, shew, that he was well acquainted with it; and, from his having, for a time, mistaken trees for basalt 4S basalt pillars, he shews the subject was much in his thoughts. It would be tiresome to. lead the reader about the world, naming the different volcanos, scattered over its surface, where a particle of basalt has never been noticed. I have already given him sufficient materials, to enable him to form a judgment of the fairness with which the Academy of Sciences ushers in Mr. Desmarest’s Memoir. 'The world will no longer be at a loss to account for the rapid success , this theory has had. It can judge'now, with what a prepos- session, in its favour, a reader will pass from the Precis to the Memoir, when he finds its object is to prove, that there is an actual connection between certain productions of na- ture, which he has, the moment before, been: assured,. from the highest authority, are invariably found together. But it is not by the weight of authority, nor the preci- pitate assent of the public, that our judgment should be regulated on philosophical subjects; nor because Mr. Des- marest’s intentions have been discovered to. be hostile to what we have been used: to respect, are we,, therefore, at once, to. condemn his opinions.. Let us temperately examine his: Memoir, and try, whether it be entitled to the credit it has obtained: Here I must request the reader to observe, that it is not the merits of the. Volcanic Theory I am, at pre- sent, proceeding to discuss; but simply those of Mr. Desma- rest’s Memoir, admitted, on all. sides, to: be the basis upon -which the Volcanic Theory rests.. If this-shall be found insuf- ficient to sustain it, L will next examine, what support it recelves, ‘44 vecetves from its other numerous and zealous advocates; and then I will proceed to try, whether this opinion be reconcile- able, or not, to the facts im my own basaltic country. MR. DESMAREST’S MEMOIR. Mr. Desmarest states, that, as le travelled through. the mowntains: of Auvergne, he examined the extinguished vol- canos, of which that country is full; and found, that currents of lava had issued from them in such abundance, as to cover a district eight or nine leagues ini diameter. He gives us a map of this district, and affects to’ trace the several currents upon it, with great accuracy. ; He observed, that’ when these currents were broken by mountain torrents; or other’ causes, the perpendicular face, so laid bare, was often composed of prismatic pillars, ge- nerally articulated, and exactly like those of the Giant’s ~Causeway, in Ireland. | i He tells us, also, that he has traced these currents up to the crater itself. . ‘From the situations and circumstances, under which Mr. Desmarest found these pillars, he infers, they were formed by the fluid lava assuming these shapes as it cooled. Such are the observations and inference, upon which the -whole theory of the volcanic origin of basalt is founded; and it is plain, that, if what Mr. Desmarest pronounces to be “eurrents of lava, are proved to be actually such, his con- clusion is irresistible. The 45 The question at issue, is thus reduced to a mere point. Were these currents of lava? or were they not? On a former occasion, I had the hardihood to differ from Mr. Dolomieu, on the subject of the basalts of Sicily, which I had never seen; and attempted to prove, from his own facts and admissions, that what he pronounced. to be cur- rents of lava, had never flowed from any volcano. (Biblio- theque Britannique, No. 144.) A similar attempt, in the case of Mr. Desmarest, will, I hope, be deemed more excusable, for two reasons; the first, that ‘he himself has’ set me the example, by discussing the features, and products, of my country, which he, also, has never visited. — The second, that; as Mr. Desmarest, on the spot, confesses his doubts, and hesitates about pronouncing on his currents of lava; I hope I too-may be forgiven for having my doubts, and thag I shall be excused for examining these facts, which, it will appear, staggered himself. The first seems to have been, the solitary masses of basalt, which he found in great abundance; for he admits, had these been all, he never could have pronounced basalt to be lava. He is again puzzled, and. pisisafioc’s that often. he cannot find the voleano itself, at the upper extremity of the current which issued from it. But the fact, which seems to have embarrassed him most of all, was, the groupes of pillars he found standing vertical on the summits of hills. _ These, he confesses, cost him much G reflection, 46 reflection, before he could account for them; which he does, at last, by considering the suite of degradations, and the de- composition, by which so many materials had been carried off. I must confess, it is not surprising, that Mr. Desmarest should be much puzzled at finding a material, which,. ac- cording to his theory, must have been in an high state of fluidity, settling itself on the summits of hills; yet this is a situation, for which columnar basalt seems to have a strong predilection, as well in Vivarois, and the North of Ireland, as in Auvergne. These didvoutites, Mr. iorpanit has been able to get over, at least, to his own satisfaction, without giving up his. theory. With others, he is not equally fortunate: he tells us, page 720, that he found prismatic masses, gui ne tiennent a rien, Which, by their disposition, exclude all correspondence with currents of lava, or with volcanos. These, he says, we are under the necessity of supposiig, were fused. and cooled on the spot. . Here Mr. Desmarest admits, that his theany does not ac- count for the formation of all columnar basalts. Some, he confesses, are out of the reach of volcanos; and he is under the necessity of inventing a new operation of nature for the purpose. And, since it is plain, on inspection, that fluid lava could not have travelled to the place where he found these basalts, he is obliged to fuse something, on the spot, for his purpose; without coadescending to give us the slightest account of these new and occasional fires, or of any circum- stance attending them. Mr. 47 Mr. Desmarest’s induction in this case, and which is per- petually adopted by those of his school, is short and clear. He first assumes, that basalt is the effect of igneous fusion; and then it must be granted to him, that he may model these fires, so as to answer the end. His successors have, in stating this argument, a great ad- vantage over Mr. Desmarest; for, while he is obliged to get over his whole difficulty, by one grand postulate, they have the benefit of his authority; and quote him, like another Aristotle, ipse diait. “igi Ly . A new difficulty’ occurred to Mr. Desmarest, which he does not avow, until he publishes his second Memoir. No doubt, emboldened by the great success of his first, he now discovers, that his theory cannot be overturned by any facts, however hostile to it; and, that his credit-is so well esta- blished, that the world will implicitly receive any reason, he shall think proper to-assign, for the most anomalous facts: He found, as he admits, horizontal strata (couches) of argil and’ limestone, incumbent on his basaltic lavas. These materials are not volcanic productions; yet Mr. Desmarest must account for their being found in this unexpected situ- ation, which he does, lightly and easily. He says, “ these are "© (pour ainsi dire) a superfetation, posterior to the lavas:” that is, he throws alma mater tellus into labour again, delivers her of two or three strata; which, happening to be placed over . his lavas, fully account for every thing. With this ingenious and philosophical solution of his last Miss a Mr. Desusiest eal the sum of the argu- G 2 ments, 48 ments, and evidence, which Auvergne affords, to enable him to establish his discovery, that columnar basalt is a volcanic production, formed in currents of lava as they cooled. Fortunately, however, for science, and, 1 may say, for truth, Mr. Desmarest is not the only naturalist who has visited Auvergne, and published an account of its natural history. Mr. Guetard, a professed mineralogist, twice made a tour of Auvergne; and, with an interval of eight years, twice he published his observations, in the same Trans- actions with Mr. Desmarest. Should, therefore, any contra- dictions occur between these two gentlemen, the reader must decide between them as he best can: and, the bet- ter to enable him, I remind. him, that, while Mr. Gue- tard seems to, have no other views, but what are purely scientific; Mr. Desmarest has discovered his intention, of making natural history subservient to his. purposes. The Volcanic Theory, as laid down, and maintained, by Mr. Desmarest, I have shewn before, turns entirely on one question, to wit, whether what he pronounces to be cur- rents of lava, actually flowed from any volcano? I, there- fore, in comparing Mr. Guetard’s account of the same country with his, shall limit myself merely to such facts and observations, as promise to throw light on_ this question. Mr. Guetard visited Auvergne in 1752, and again in 1760. He piques himself on discovering this country to have been, at a remote period, ravaged by subterraneous fires and eruptions. His attention seems much fixed on volcanic 49 volcanic objects: yet, in both tours, all these currents of lava escaped him;. which, by Mr. Demarest’s account, covered a district of panetes eight or nine leagues in diameter. . This negative evidence, against Mr. Desmarest’s. currents of lava, is pretty strong; but Mr. Guetard.is so good, as also. to furnish us with positive evidence, direct to the point; for he assures us, Volvic alone, of all the extinguished vol- canos in Auvergne, produced lavas in any considerable quantity; the others, to not more than the thickness of a few inches; their. ejections consisting) merely of scoria, cin- ders, pumices, and ashes. Mr. Guetard, also, gives (quite incidentally} a most im- portant fact, decisive as to these currents of lava, to wit, the diameters of the craters; the greatest of which measured but from five to six toises (from 30 to 36 feet); yet, if we believe what Mr: Desmarest calls currents of lava, to have been actually such, we must allow, that it was through these di- minutive funnels such mighty torrents issued; and, im parti- cular, the: current, that formed the facade of Ladabraise, one hundred feet high,,This I select, not: as the greatest, but because Mr. Desmarest says, it issued at one jet.* ; In * Though Mr. Desmarest, who, on his mission,. had visited the Italian and Sici- lian voleanos, often mentions the craters, from which his currents’ of lava issued, he carefully suppresses their dimensions; the difference between: which, and those of other volcanos, known to haye produced: currents of lava, must instantly have struck every reader acquainted with such subjects. Sir William Hamilton informs us, that the crater of Etna was two miles and. a half in circumference ; that’ 50 In one point, these gentlemen are entirely agreed ; thiat is, in their account’ of the Volvic lava, which Mr. Desmarest allows to be quite different from his basaltic lava, in its neighbourhood, but perfectly resembling the Vesuvian lava, full of pores, and breaking in all directions, (casse en tout sens;) while his own prismatic lava was quite compact, and so refractory, in the hands of masons, that the natives, who had a name of their own for it, pierre deragne, and were well acquainted with its inutility, instantly forsook a a'quarry, when they found the stone of this species. Thus, by Mr. Desmarest’s-account, the volcanos of Au- vergne produced two sorts of lava, quite different from each other. The first, exactly like the lavas of all other volcanos; the second, totally different: in’ feature, as being quite com- pact; in form, as being shaped into pillars and prisms; and in fracture, as disobedient to the tool ‘of the’ workman. Mr. Guetard’s account is more simple: He tells us, the volcanos of Auvergne produced but one species of lava, and that exactly like all other lavas. Should the reader be embarrassed by the contradictions of these gentlemen; the testimony of an‘ author, who lived, at a Bes the that of Vesuvius, half a mile. Sir William thinks, that the craters of extin- guished volcanos increase in size; and, accordingly, Bracini found, before the eruption of 1531, after an interval of rest of 492 years, that the circumference of the crater of Vesuvius was then’ five miles. Sir William adds, that the craters of the extinguished voleanos, of Astruni and Monte Gauro, were six miles; while the smallest crater he mentions, is that of Monte Nuovo, which was but a quarter of a mile. This mountain, however, was thrown up in one night, 51 the time of the eruptions, in Auvergne, will, probably, throw light on the question, and enable him to decide between them. Sidonius Apollinaris, Bishop of Clermont, in Auvergne, in the fifth century, describing the calamities of his coun- try, to: which he was witness, says: _« The mountains vomited out fire; their height was in- “ creased, by the quantity of burnt matters they threw “ up, and which, as they fell, heaped upon one another: “ the wild beasts: fled: into the towns for slielter.” We cannot havea more) accurate. description of Mr. Guetard’s mountains, composed of scoria;. cinders,. pumices, and ashes; but not one’ word of Mr.. Desmarest’s currents. of lava, which,: by his accoumt, covered: a district, eight or nine leagues -m. diameter; and mighty: torrents, of liquid fire would. have heightened. Sidonius’s picture, who apr pears disposed to be turgid- Mr. Desmarest seems to have: suspected, that the obser- vations he made upon, Auvergne, alone,, were not suffi- cient to establish his discovery, that basalt prisms were _-# volcanic production... He must call. in, the aid. of some ether country, and; shew,. that, in! it, also, basalt was pror duced by subterranean) fire.) He sclected;jour, county, of, Antrim. fer his purpose; a country he had not visited, and whose basaltic. wonders, though even then much celebrated, had. never been ex- amined with care; nor was, any tolerable account of them, at 52. at that: time, published. Besides, one point alone (the Giant’s Causeway itself) had been dwelt. upon; whereas, it ought to be, from the general construction of the country, and the circumstances attending its basalts, that arguments were to’ be sought, to establish a decided resemblance ‘be- tween Antrim and Auvergne, im order tolead to the conclu- sion he wishes to draw; to wit, that Antrim also was a vol- canic country. ° Two views of the Giant’s. Causeway, published by pars. Drury, supplied the defect of other materials. | The first argument he drew from these views was,’ that, as they exhibit our Causeway, standing at the foot of a conical mountain, this must have been the volcano, whence the current: of lava issued, mm which it was. formed. Dr. Hamilton takes pains to shew, that Mr. Desmarest ‘was misled in this point; which I would willingly allow, if it was the only instance in which he misrepresents our facts: but, as, in every step he takes, he endeavours to mislead, I will not precipitately acquit him, of the same intention, in this instance. His next argument, to prove Antrim to be a volcanic country, is, from a resemblance, he thinks he discovers, be- tween the valleys of Mont d’Or, in Auvergne, and, what he considers as, the skirts. of mountains, ‘in Mrs. Drury’s” drawings. I must confess, I cannot discover any resemblance, be- tween the faces of our precipices, in these drawings, and mountain 53 mountain valleys;* nor do I conceive a resemblance, be- tween the skirts of mountains, in distant countries, (even if better established,) to be a fact of such importance, as to warrant a general conclusion of their similarity, in all other respects. It. is amusing to observe, with what force Mr. Desmarest puts this argument; how well satisfied he is. with the vis consequenti@, and to what: an extent he avails himself of it. He says, “ je tirai de cette conformité reconnue, une con- “ sequence, que la force de lanalogie m’ autorisoit’ a’ tirer. « Cette consequence me fit voir dans la Chaussee de Geans, “et dans toutes les masses prismatiques, qui se montrent ‘* sur les bordes escarpeés de la mer, en idisinde, en un mot, “ dans les sommets tronqueés, q’on y appercoit, louvrage “des eruptions, d’un ow des plusasdee: volcans, qui se sont “* eteints, comme ceux d’Auvergne.” oom I must make two observations on this passage. The first, that Mr. Desmarest calls this fanciful resemblance (he thinks he ‘has discovered) wne confor'mité reconnue, as if known and admitted by all the world. 9 )¢y) 0 "Phe second, that he takes this oe ne of sliding in a most important fact, sommets tronqueés, truncated sum- mits or cones, being one of the most characteristic features of volcanic countries ; of course, when found in Antrim, H decisive 1 * Since I wrote the; above, I have carefully examined Mrs. Drury’s draw- ings, which represent our uniform facades with great accuracy. No valleys or ravines, either in nature or the drawing, nor any thing like the skirts of a mountain, 54 decisive on what Mr. Desmarest labours to prove, to wit, that it was once the seat of volcanic eruptions. Thirty pages afterwards, he resumes the topic; and, com- plaining of the English writers, for giving no account of the form of the mountain, at the foot of which the Giant’s Causeway is placed, Mr. Desmarest kindly supplies their deficiency, and tells us, it is une cone tronquée. Now, as there is nothing in Mrs. Drury’s views, which can be tortured, by the warmest imagination, into a trun- cated cone; nor, in the wicinity of the Giant’s Causeway, any feature of the slightest resemblance, to, it; and, as Mr. Desmarest himself admits, that none of the English writers mention the shape of these mountains, it becomes necessary to ask, where did. he meet with this truncated cone, this decided volcanic feature, that helps him to establish his resemblance, between Antrim and Auvergne? Mr. Desmarest was not aware, that, even in his own time, his mtention, ‘¢ fo make such observations in natural history, as * would very well enable him to give the lie to Moses,’ would be in possession of the public; or he probably would have been more cautious, how he exposed himself to a retort from any of Moses’s friends; Ureertn yae yAwoo iors Bowrwy modees O° ty prubos, Omroioy x timnole exos Tomy x emranouras, Glib runs the tongue, with words unnumber’d fraught, And gives you back as good as you have brought. But, 55 But, as I perceive, from the late publications in the National Institute, that Mr. Desmarest still wields his pen, I trust he will explain. All that remained, to enable Mr. Desmarest to complete— his proof, of Antrim being a volcanic country, was, to find the scoria, which, he well knew, was admitted, by all na- turalists, invariably to accompany every volcano. Not one English writer, on the subject of the Giant’s Causeway, had mentioned the word scoria: but Mr. Desmazest assures us, that their not having mentioned the scoria, along our coast and precipices, was pure omission; and, as to the scoria, that ought to have been found on the Giant’s Causeway itself, it was (as he tells _ all washed off by the breach: of the’ sea. As Mr. Desmarest has been pleased to give us so much information, about our county of Antrim, which he never saw; I think the least I can do is, to return the obligation, and give him some information, relative to his Auvergne, which I have never visited. I, therefore, venture to assure him, that Auvergne was, originally, a basaltic country; with its materials, arranged by the hand of nature, precisely in the same manner, as they are in Antrim, and, I believe, in all basaltic countries: that is, in extensive: strata, horizontal, or nearly so; exhi- biting flat terraces, accumulated upon each other, in several tier; often abrupted into perpendicular facades, displaying the prismatic and columnar construction of the basalt, of 4 EB A which 56 which they are composed; and that some of these strata are (as with us) often red or ochreous. That this was the original construction of Auvergne, I rest “upon the authority of Mr. Desmarest’s own Memoir; where the corresponding circumstances of the two countries are detailed, in .a manner not to be mistaken. For instance, he tells us, page 706, that his prisms rest upon a stratum of terres cuites, as our own often do upon an ochreous stra- tum, strongly resembling baked earth, or brick. Page 730, he says, the strata form plusieurs etages, ow ranges horizontales: and again, page 737, the same words recur. Page 730, terraces assez etendues, platforms and ter- races, perpetually occur; and the perpendicular facades, common to all basaltic countries, are to be met with, as well as his terres cuites, in almost every page. From this account of Mr. Desmarest, it is plain, that the original materials and stratification, of Antrim and Auvergne, were precisely similar: but we have had the good fortune to remain undisturbed, while Auvergne has been ravaged by destructive eruptions. One at Volvic, more tremendous than the rest, poured forth vast torrents of lava; while the others, more diminutive, emitted only lighter materials, sco- ria, cinders, pumices, and ashes.* Mr. Strange (whose adoption of Mr. Desmarest’s theory I have proved before, by a quotation from his geological letter * These latter were, probably, some of the eruptions, to which Sidonius Apollinaris was witness; while, in all likelihood, the great eruption of Volvic happened at an earlier period, 57 letter to Tozzetti) was’ much astonished, when he came to visit Auvergne, that, in no one instance, he found prisma- tic basalt near to any of the volcanos: a fact, which seems to have much weakened his belief in the Volcanic Theory. No doubt, it must have appeared very extraordinary to him, that no connection or continuity was to be found, be- tween cause and effect; between the volcano, and the lava that had issued from it. Mr. Desmarest, aware of this ob- jection to his theory, anticipates it; and undertakes to ac- count for this extraordinary circumstance. He tells us, that. it is only at a great distance from their craters, that the cur- rents of lava are able to disentangle themselves from the scorified matters. This important fact, of the constant remoteness of the basalt from the volcanos, thus fully established,: by the tes- - timony both of Mr. Desmarest and Mr. Strange, is not very difficult to account for; as the volcanic ejections must, in every instance, have covered the original basalts, in the vi- cinity of the craters, so that thé remote ones only are left visible. The reader is now able to form his judgment, upon the merits of this celebrated Memoir; and to determine whether, in his opinion, it ought to have had such weight with the world, as to procure so rapid and acsedannen an assent, to Mr. Desmarest’s theory. As this gentleman undertook to enlighten mankind, on basaltic subjects, it was, no doubt, supposed, he had made this fossil his peculiar study; for, Publica 58 ‘Publica lex hominum naturaque continet hoc fas, Ut teneat vetitos inscitia debilis actus. Yet, I am afraid, that, while, upon the credit of Mr. D’Alembert, we admit Mr. Desmarest to be a man of merit and sound philosophy; we must, upon his own evidence, convict him of being little acquainted with the fossil, upon the nature of which he undertook to instruct the world; and ignorant of the varieties of basalt, and the modes in which nature has been pleased to arrange it. Men of genius, and warm imagination, have sometimes dashed rapidly into topics, with which they had not taken time to make themselves sufficiently acquainted. Thus, Mr. Desmarest, from his zeal to co-operate in the views of his friends, D’Alembert and Voltaire, may have hur- ried into his basaltic Memoir, before he had taken suf- ficient time to examine this fossil. But he has since had leisure enough. He saw the world, for thirty years, busied upon the basaltic topics he had thrown out to them: he alone gave himself no trotble on the subject; for, at the end of thirty years, he shews, that he is perfectly unac- quainted with most of the circumstances attending basalt. After this long mterval, Mr. Desmarest resumes his pen, and publishes another Memoir, in the fourth volume of the National Institute, and now talks of basalt with autho- rity. He there tells us (page 320), that basalt pillars are formed by wne retraite et le reserrement, equally applicable to desiccation, Again 59 Again (page 230), he repeats the same common cause, retraite et reserrement; in one case, the effect of desicca- tion; in the other, of refroidissement. T will not detain the reader, by shewing the folly of lumping two causes for the same effect, so totally difte- rent from each other, as desiccation and contraction: the one arising from evaporation; the other from that pro- perty, which all solid bodies seem to have, of expanding, and contracting, with heat and cold. Nor will I dwell on the utter insufficiency of either cause, to produce our exquisitely neat and regular pillars, and especially their highly finished articulations. It is to Mr. Desmarest’s. total enOrEnGe of the facts, attending this fossil, I call the attention of the reader: for each cause, to which, he ascribes the formation of basalt pillars, necessarily supposes intervals between them. Every one knows, that, on desiccation, cracks and inter- vals are produced: and Mr. Desmarest himself (page 222), explaining the formation of basalt prisms, by the other process, contraction in cooling, says, “ leur faces sont le “ resultat des fentes verticales.” But, unfortunately for Mr. Desmarest’s credit, in basalt, there are no intervals, no fentes, between the prisms, or pillars: all are united together, into one solid mass, sepa- rable from each other; but it is by external causes alone, that they are actually separated. It istrue, the pillars, in our facades, sometimes exhibit very small intervals, between ee as Sir Torbern Bergman says, the point of a knife can 60 ean scarcely pass: but, even these are limited to the sur- face; and, probably, the effect of contraction, and dila- tation, from the variation of temperature, in our atmo- sphere. For, as we quarry farther in, the mass soon be- comes solid: even the surface itself is frequently without the slightest intervals between the prisms or pillars. I refer the naturalist to two points, where he can easily get access to the foot of the precipice; the S. E. point of Portmoon, and Grace Staple’s Cave, at Carrickarade: in both places, the facade is neatly columnar and prismatic, and also completely solid. As this want of intervals establishes, both the inade- quacy of the causes, which Mr. Desmarest assigns, with so much confidence; and, also, proves his own total igno- rance of basalt, in its natural state: I will mention two facts more, which must put this point past a doubt. The first; that a fall of 200 feet has not been able to separate the prisms, composing the prismatic masses, which have fallen down the vast perpendicular precipice at Fair-head. The second; that the hollows, on the surface of the Giant’s Causeway, are as staunch as a bason, and hold the water, that collects on them, from rain, or the spray, until it evaporates; whereas, it would soon find a passage, through Mr. Desmarest’s intervals, if such existed. Though this gentleman has given us opportunities enough, of discovering his ignorance of a subject, upon which he has brought so much attention; I will trouble the reader but with one instance more. He 61 He had told us (page 222), that the prisms are always vertical: and again, (page 231), he generalizes, and makes this not an accidental position, but a matter of necessity; assuring us, that, “ in lava, the result must be a vertical “© prism.” Had Mr. Desmarest paid any attention to basalt, he would have known, there are different varieties of it, which directly contradict his rule, so dogmatically laid down: some varieties, in which the axes of the prisms are in- different to all positions; while the stratum, in which they are placed, remains perfectly steady; the axes assuming different degrees of obliquity, at short distances, and some- times undulating. The prisms, too, of the basalt walls, commonly called whynn dykes, are always horizontal. VOR ae I PART PART II. EXAMINATION OF THE FACTS AND OPINIONS, GIVEN BY DIFFERENT ADVOCATES FOR) THE VOLCANIC ORIGIN OF BASALT, WHO FOLLOWED MR. DESMAREST; TO WIT; MR.FPAUSAS DE ST. FOND, MR. DOLOMIEU, MR. WHITEHURST, BISHOP TROLL, ABBE SPALANZANI, AND DR, HAMILTON, UTINAM TAM FACILE VERA INVENIRE POSSEM, QUAM FALSA CONVINCERE. CICERO. I HAVE, in. the preceding account, of Mr. Desmarest’s Memoir, enabled, the reader to form some judgment, of its merit;, and, to, determine, how far its author has sueceeded in, ‘establishing ; ,his position, that, basalt is a. volcanic, pro- duction... The. advocates re this opinion, no ) doubt, may say, that its. truth does not, rest sofely on Mr. Desmarest's proofs; that the Volcanic Theory has.many other advocates, who, per- haps, may support it more ably than its original inventor ; and who. may, adduce new arguments and; facts, which had escaped him: that, therefore, to, judge fairly, it becomes nécessary to examine, what other, writers: say in its favour; and to try what new lights they throw upon the subject. 12 It 04 It is very true, this theory has been taken up by many others, who shew an eagerness to express their approbation of it; but not one of them seems to think any further proof of it necessary, than what Mr. Desmarest has already given. Arguments, therefore, in support of this theory, are not to be found in their works, nor, indeed, many facets that apply to the question; but, in their stead, we shall find postudates in abundance; for, circumstances most frequently occur, hostile to the volcanic origin of basalt. These must be explained, and accounted for: the friends, therefore, of this opinion, are reduced to the necessity of making postulates, which will, probably, surprise ‘the rea- der, and, I hope, will also afford him some entertainment. Mr. Faujas de St. Fond is the most celebrated, as well as the most voluminous writer on the subject. That he con- sidered the volcanic origin of basalt, as a question no longer at issue, but finally decided in the affirmative, ap- pears from the words, with which he commences one of his treatises, ** Mineralogie des Volcans.” He begins thus: “* Le basalte est une veritable lave, qui a incontestablement * coulé.” After this debut, the reader will not expect, that Mr. St. Fond will be at the trouble of demonstrating, what he has already taken for granted. An examination, however, of his facts is necessary. One of them has been considered, by different writers, as’ quite conclusive on the question; and, no doubt, at first view, appears to give strong testimony in favour of this theory. Mr. 65 o'Mr. St.’ Fond describes the mountain Dela, Coupe, in Vivarois, as: bearing undeniable marks, of having: been once al ereat voltano; avast crater, scorie, and; burnt! matters, . in ‘abundance. .| But, the important fact is, that a,current of lava has (as Mr. St. Fond:isays) run. down. from this erate, .and:'descended. into. the plain, | where it has formed an’ extensive’) pavé ide geans;\,and that) prisms appear in; the current, ‘before it has | quite, reached. the; plain,, » Now, audi :alteram) partem.) “A naturalist, quoted: by Mr. Kirwan, assures us, that the mountain De la, Coupe never was ‘a''volcano;!)and,. that! what: Mr.,St:,Fond calls avcurrent ‘of lava, isi merely).a -stripe of, trapose matter, which ‘happens tovhave been laid) bare..05 .) & Here! we have othe:contradiction!,direet ; and, one | i, starice} of the)many, 'froniowhich».it appears, that disputed points; ‘in natural history, are now teduced, to mere wars of assertion, upom which:no» reliance’ whatsoever can be placed)i: How,)\'then, “is an» impartial inquirer to, obtain truth; whem he knows) that, in) the relations given by, par- tial: -theorists}!no respect is paid :to» it? if “The only method) I’ know; is: to neglect the strong as- - sertions;’ which betray the object of the. writer; and to. at- tend to the more minute, and apparently unimportant -cir- cumstances,’ which escape him. «Let. us: try, that. mode, |in, the presént instance; and, I suspect; wer shall, come at the truth. wisie » When’ Mr. St.-Fond (who wishes to shake ats vaoiisitatin a an talks ‘of scoria, and: vitrified. matters; I consider = him, 66 him, as using the common-place language: of! all’ those, who are anxious to establish similar points; and: such as, we meéet with, in most accounts of my: own country, written: by friends to the Volcanic Theory; though, in realityscn nO) such substances: are found in» it. But; when he incidentally. mentions. aves, iti lies twisted like a rope, a decided volcanic accompaniments. though rarely; noticed: as such, Db begin to believe’ hirs.and: admit his mountain, De la ey ihd to be an vextinguishied volcano. ynne2ss ft Again, when. I find: Mr. St. Fond; hails ie estar: blish a current! of lava, as descending from| the crater:of, this mountain, and’ continuing) its: course downy its sides until “it® reaches ‘the »plain; where,»as) he says, at forms 2 most superb: Giant’s; Causeway, vof:vast heights this fact; is: so! decidedly! donclusivein his favour, thaticl beging ito; suspect? him, ‘and: thinkuit' necessary: to examine; and, coms, pare the ininute circumstances ‘of his accounts. |which soon turn! out irveconcileable: to! lits:i main) object! Jor instance,) he tells us, the whole! countny, fron» Rigaudelt: Bnstragues, is: one mass» of ‘Giant's Causewayu Thebailvers Volant),has excavated for itself, ‘ai deep and largey beds! edged, on: both, sides by: superb: basalt) prisms.: The: escarpment}; on ithe) right? side,! is! dame hauteur prodigieuse> dbiisy theres, plain, the lava has: ranodown og diverses | reprises; tar dorm this, pee a plusieurs etages. \ We have next to examine Mr, St) Fondis. seerintn of the current of lava, which: has produced) such: mighty; effects. He \ 67 ‘He ‘admits, it is only thirty feet wide; but, he says,:it must enter fort avant dans le. profondeur de terre, to judge by ‘the profile of the causeways it has produced; in other words, it’ should have been much greater.. In another place;"he ‘admits its apparent diameter, ito be but five: or six feét; at ‘least, we can’ only | see’ so’ much : scorie conceal the rest, which ought to be ten times as great. Js it not now plain, that a current, of such tufling ‘dimensions, was totally insufficient, ‘to ~produce the effects Mr. St. Fond ascribes to it? Must we not, therefore, when ‘we admit’ his -voleano,.igive up ‘his current of lava, as untenable? And this exactly corresponds with the ob- servations, made on the spot, by: my imgenious and learned _ friend, Dr. Perceval, ‘Professor’ of Chemistry, in Dublin College; who assured me, that the mountain, De la Coupe, was an extinguished volcano; but that what Mr. St. Fond called a current of Java, was merely a ravine, the effect of some torrent. ~> Lest, however, I should be ‘blamed, for contradicting a gentleman, who visited the place, whichL never did, I give up the point, and? admit -Mr. ‘St. Fond’s ‘current. of lava; “which, descending the hill, enveloped some of the’ prisms _ of the pavé, of which the whole country, by his own'ac- count, is formed; and which obviously existed there,’ before the voleano erupted; as did Mr. Desmarest’s ‘prisms and ‘pillars, in Auvergne. I have dwelt upon this fact; both because it has been often quoted with much triumph, and, also, because it is the 68 the only one I ever met with, that gives a -ionsntaatgl port to the Volcanic ‘Theory. I will now proceed to examine the remaining facts, (thinly scattered through Mr. St. Fond’s voluminous works,) that seem, in the least, to apply to the present question.. . He found, at Montbrul, basalt prisms, at, what he oa the bottom of an old crater; but, he adds, they develope themselves much more behind the crater, where they have formed. a pavé de Geans, des plus elevees. (Vol. etein. page 287.) Here it appears, by Mr. St. Boils own account, that the lava has risen far above the crater: of course,.if this be really a crater, (which I much doubt,) the pillars must have been formed antecedent, to the eruption, as in all other cases. At.Chenavari, he found a codetuode oh prisms, which he ‘calls the remains of a vast crater, of which the greater part has been ensevelie and abimee. I believe this, without further proof, (than his supposed revolutions) will scancely be ad- ‘mitted to be a crater. OI At Pont de Baume, Mr. St. Fond dunia a range of articulated prisms, supporting a stratum of a different va- riety of basalt. This he calls a superb coulee de lave; but, unfortunately, he cannot determine from which of two cra- ters it comes. (Page 300.) I fancy the reader will require some little proof, before he admits it to have issued from either. On 69 On another occasion he is more decided; for, finding buttes isolees unconnected with currents of lava, he says, they were forced hors de terre, by the efforts of the two superior craters. (Page 269.) A combination of forces, and a con- junction of operations, which, I confess, I do not well comprehend. Mr. St. Fond’s account of Pont de Baume is very im- portant; as it describes, accurately, a circumstance, common to many basaltic countries, to wit, strata of columnar ba- salt, alternating with strata of another variety of this fossil; as at Staffa, Bolsena, the Giant’s Causeway, and the whole neighbouring country. We sce, too, that Mr. St. Fond him- self cannot reconcile this arrangement with the common mode of volcanic formation. I will now proceed to state some of the postulates, which Mr. St. Fond finds himself under the necessity of making, in order to reconcile, to his theory, the extraordinary facts, which are perpetually occurring to him. He seems to forget, that the sole proof, adduced to support the Volcanic Theory, is, that basalt prisms were found in actual currents of lava. He now proceeds to invent, for his purpose, new and extraor- -dinary operations, without assigning any. reason, or proof, to shew, that nature ever performed any such. | Mr. St. Fond describes, and. gives us a drawing of Mont Maillas, which appears, to be an enormous basaltic hum- mock, of great elevation, formed by an horizontal. stratum of columnar basalt, exhibiting a colonnade round its peri- phery. He admits, no crater is to be found near Mont VOL. x. K Maillas; 70 Maillas; and, from its height, it could not have been formed in the common way: he, therefore, assures us, that the in- conceivable force of subterranean fire, [a fait sortir, toute formeé, de Vinterieur de terre; that is, it was forced up, ready made. (Page 280.) Though Mr. St. Fond chuses to call these, explosions of his volcaniques, yet, he takes care to inform us, that they have nothing volcanic but the name. For Roche Rouge, a pyramidal basaltic rock, 100 feet high by 60, was forced up, (I may say, like a peg,) par Veffort dune explosion vol- canique, de linterieur de terre, without being preceded, or followed, by any other volcanic phenomenon; as there are neither scoria nor porous lava, nulle coulée de lave, no cra- ter, nor apparent volcano, in the neighbourhood. (Vol. Eteints, page 364.) Nor does Mr. St. Fond limit his volcanic explosions to the land only: for he assures us, that Rocher St. Michel, and Rocher Corneille, though in the province of Velay, in the heart of France, were formed by submarine erup- tions. (Page 341 and 344.) What opinion the reader will form, of these mighty agents, which Mr. St. Fond introduces, to help him through his difficulties, he must determine for himself: but Mr. Dolomieu considers the discovery of them, as a superior effort of human sagacity. He can now get over his own difficulties, and account for the formation of the basaltic mount Paterno, which, he admits, could not have been _ formed by the common yoleanic process; and of La Mothe; whose 71 whose pillars are 30 feet high; and of the Cyclopian Islands, whose vertical pillars are covered with marine exuvize. All » these, he says, were formed by a sort of vertical yet; which, in the case of the Cyclopian Islands, carried up the bottom of the sea with it, leaving it on the tops of the pillars, where it was placed before. _ I shall make no other comment, on this machinery of these gentlemen, than to observe, that it must have been managed with great dexterity; since, from their own ac- count, it appears, that the explosion, however violent, has not deranged the perpendicularity of the pillars; at least, at Maillas, La Mothe, and the Cyclopian Islands. Mr. St. Fond, though, in general, so well able to account for every thing, yet, on some occasions, like his friend, Mr. Desmarest, cannot suppress his doubts. He says, page 271, on rest ‘stupefait, et on est a chercher, dou a pu venir une masse, aussi etonnante, et aussi isoleé. And again, page 279, he was so much embarrassed, by finding a beautiful suite of prisms, imbedded in the solid rock, that, he confesses, he cannot. pronounce on so. deli- cate a subject. Mr. Dolomieu was a friend, and a correspondent, of Mr. St. Fond; and a zealous, though, sometimes, not quite so bold, an, advocate for the volcanic origin of basalt. He, too, has his doubts, as he candidly confesses to his friend; and also his postulates, though he admits he is somewhat effrayée at proposing them. K 2 His 72 His doubts he expresses thus, in his second letter to Mr. St. Fond, from Lisbon. He says, “ can a mountain be * called volcanic, which is not conic, has no crater, is “ grouped with other mountains of a different species, “ which form, together, but one mass? Can we say, that a “ volcano has burned in a country, where we find neither “* scoria, pumices, cinders, or puzzolana?” I must confess, Mr. Dolomieu assigns good reasons to justify his doubts; which, however, he surmounts gradually ; for he tells us, he thinks, the difficulty may be got over, if we concede to him, that the agitation of the waves destroyed all other stones, except the basalts. At length, in his fourth letter, he pronounces himself satisfied these mountains are volcanic, provided his postu- lates be granted to him; which are, “ that there have been “* four revolutions, in this part of the globe; that the vol- * canos were anterior to the last alluvion, and posterior to “ another sejour of the sea, which deposited the calcareous “ strata, upon which these lavas are placed.” Mr. St. Fond is just as ready as his friend, to make use of revolutions, submersions, and deluges, to help him to get over the difficulties, which his favourite theory has to encounter. He found, at Chamarelle, in Vivarais, what he calls a cur- rent of lava, attended by many circumstances, incompatible with the state of fluidity he ascribes to it. For instance: This lava has not only been able to penetrate the hardest calcareous rocks, mais encore d’y eirculer, tantot dans une sens, tantot dans une autre; to cut, transversely, strata of consider- able 73 able thickness; and thus to travel (voyager) more than six thousand yards, without being impeded by such: barriers: and, what seems still more extraordinary, this current has not only descended the declivity, but has’ also ‘ascended (escaladée) the skirt of the mountain, e¢ sest élevé. ina sur sa crete. The postulates’ He St. Fond makes, to esis him to explain this singular fact, are, that the voleano was sub- marine; that the current of lava, as it flowed along the bottom of the sea, impinged against the mountain of Cha- marelle, at that time, assvell as all) the other mountains im its vicinity, submerged, par Veffet de quelque grand revolu- tion. And we must presume, (as we now find them. highly elevated,) that they were raised again, by some other as powerful: revolution. (Min. des Volcans, chap. 13.) I hope to be excused, for having dwelt so long upon Mr. St. Fond and Mr. Dolomieu. They are admitted to be the most eminent writers on this question; and they are both spoken of, in the highest terms, by Mr. Kirwan and Dr: Hamilton. - Yet, notwithstanding this honourable testi- mony, from-men decidedly attached ‘to’ the religion they profess, I cannot help suspecting, that ‘both ‘Mr. St. Fond, and Mr. Dolomieu, were in the confidence of Mr. Desmarest ; acquainted with his:object, which we have accidentally dis- covered; and that they were his associates, in carrying" it into effect: That they both leaned to the same conclusion he wished to draw, appears, from many passages in their writings, 74: writings, especially where hey find basalts covered by cal- careous strata. Of Mr. St. Fond I know little, but sas he was the friend and correspondent of the Duke de Rochefoucault and Mr. Desmarest, as well as of Mr. Dolomieu. Of the latter we have better information. We know that he was an élluminatus of the first order; a’ member of the Lodge of the Nine Sisters, with) Rochefoucault, Brissot, Condor- cet, Garat, Pethion, Danton, Bailly, and other leaders of the anti-christian and anti-monarchical conspiracy. We find him active in revolutionizing Malta, and imprisoned for similar attempts at Naples. But, whatever may have been the ultimate object of these gentlemen and their associates; they pursued it with such activity, that they inspired their followers with the same zeal for making proselytes, which they possessed themselves;. and the same contempt for truth, of which their leader, Mr. Desmarest, had set them so striking an example. Though I do not suspect the naturalists of the British Isles, to be, in the least, privy to this conspiracy; yet, some of them seem to have adopted the French mode of supporting favourite theories; and to have modelled the facts they met. with, so as to make them serve their purt+ pose. One of these gentlemen, indeed, Mr. Whitehurst, a mi- neralogist of some eminence, seems to have improved upon the 75 the French stile; for he misquotes. He tells us, “ Mr. St. « Fond’s treatise contains many instances, of basalts being * absolutely a part of the matter, which flowed from a “ volcano, in a state of liquid fire; which evidently ap- “* pears, from the same mass of lava, situated near its “ crater, being wholly, or in part, columnar.” ‘I wish Mr. Whitehurst had been so good, as to name the pages, where these instances are to be found. I cer- tainly never met with anything, in Mr. St. Fond’s works, to warrant the strength of this passage. It séems, also; to have escaped Mr. Whitehurst, that Mr. Strange (as I have stated before) positively denies, that columnar basalt is to be found in the vicinity of a volcano: ‘and Mr. ‘Desmarest himself, aware of the awkwardnéss of this ‘unexpected fact, feels himself under’ the necessity of accounting for it. Mr. Whitehurst, too, seenis as ready, as his French pre- decessors, to make postulates, to enable him to get over his difficulties. I have shewn, in more instances than one, the modés they have devised, to account for the total want of voleani¢ features, iii countries, according to'their theories, decidedly volcanic. “Mr: Whitehurst’s conjecture is new: the réader must judge of its ingenuity. He says, “ an immense tract of land, towards the north, “has been absdlutely ‘sunk, and ‘swallowed’ up’ into the “ earth; ‘at’ some’ ‘remote period of time} and’ become’ the “ bottom of the Atlantic ocean:”!") - ' -' Whence, “he is almost’ tempted to think, ‘that Ireland “was, originally, ‘apart of the island Atlantis; which, ac- * cording 76 “ cording to Plato's Timzus, was. totally swallowed.up by “ a prodigious earthquake.” Here (for we must not press upon the contradictory ac- count, of the submersion, in one place,.of a part; in the other, of the whole island) we have a complete solution of the difticulty. The volcanos were. all in the part called At- lantis; their lavas spread into the part now called Ireland ; the former was swallowed up, but the latter remains. Mr. Whitehurst can also misrepresent facts, with great ease and confidence. The rocks, at Portrush strand, he says, “* consist altogether of masses of black lava; so extremely “* replete with, bladder holes, that,at perfectly resembles the sco- * rua of irons /and,,.therefore, leaves not. the least doubt of its “ being a,voleanic production.” (Page. 249.) ; These rocks, at Portrush strand, are opposite to. my’ door. L have often examined them, and aftirm, they, are composed of strata of solid table basalt, sometimes thickly studded with zeolite: their fracture, like that of other basalt;, no resemblance, ‘whatsoeyer,,to, scoria;. nor do they contain a single bladder ,hole.,. 1,can also assure the reader, that My. Whitehurst did not alight from. his horse,,to examine these rocks, which, by his own account, so effectually esta- blsh his favourite theory. Bladder holes,,.or internal cavities, , (1. ee nell, interno, } are admitted; by most of the, foreign, naturalists, to be es- sential to lava. Mr. Kirwan assigns the reason; as such cavities are the necessary effect of the fusion of earthy sub- stances., Hence it comes, that the advocates for the, igneous origin ike origin of basalt, are so ready to give this fossil pores and bladder holes. For my own part, I never met with, in any of our basalts, internal cavities; except such as once con- tained water, or those from which zeolites had fallen out; and even these very rarely. I shall now proceed to two other facts, which seem to countenance the volcanic origin of basalt. The first is stated by Dr. Troil, who observed in Ice- land, as he tells us, ‘ basalt pillars, peeping out from “among the lava, and still oftener from among the tufa.” - Iceland is, unquestionably, both a basaltic, and a volca- nic country. The question to decide here, is: were these pillars formed out of the materials, among which they appeared? or, was the coincidence accidental? Now, as I apprehend, no one will maintain, that the tufa was formed into basalt pillars; they must necessarily have been enveloped by the tufa, that fell among them. The reader is, then, to determine, upon these scanty data, (for Dr, Troil does not give much assistance,) if it’be not proba- ble, that the pre-existing basalt was enveloped by the lava, as well as by the tufa; and if so, the original ques- tion rests as it stood. The only remaining fact, that has come in my way, that seems to apply to this question, is related by Abbé Spa- lanzani. He found, at the bottom of the crater of Vol- cano, in the Lipari Islands, “ pentagonal basalt prisms. On “© looking up the sides of the crater, he perceived, they “ came from a great bed of lava, almost vertical; divided, VOL. X. L fin 78 * in its length, into articulate prisms: the lava, in which “ they were, descended to the ground, and was incon- ** siderable.” I must observe, that Spalanzani, as well as other ad- vocates for the volcanic origin of basalt, generally uses the terms, dava, and basalt, as synonimous; and that Spa- lanzani talks of the volcanos of Ireland, and of Antrim, with as much ease as Mr. St. Fond, or any of them. The very critical situation, in which these prisms were found, to wit, the bottom of an unquestioned crater, will, I hope, procure my excuse, for entering into a mi- nute investigation of the circumstances attending them, as related by the Abbé himself; and I will argue from his own facts alone. Had this lava been melted in the crater, accompanied by an effervescence, and then a retraite, to which Spa- lanzani ascribes the formation of the pillars; it must have obeyed the laws of other fluids, and assumed an ‘hori- zontal level: but never could have formed a narrow, ver- tical stripe, the lava of which scarcely reached to the bottom of the crater. The material, too, of which these prisms were composed, is very important. Their base, Spalanzani says, was petro- silev: that he was well acquainted with such lavas; in all of which, the petrosilew bore strong marks of fire. On the contrary, the petrosiler, in these prisms, had not suffered the slightest alteration from the fire, although it is very certain they had been fused. 5 Now, 79 Now, this certainty, that these prisms had been fused, arises solely from the admission of the general position, that all articulated prisms were once fluid lava. Withdraw that admission, and then the total want of any mark of fire, on this petrosiler, is little short of demonstration, that it never had been in fusion. For this we have good authority. Mr. Kirwan (Trans. R. I. A. Vol. V. page 7th) tells us, “ petrosilex and other « fiSible stones have a quite different aspect, when they “ pass through a state of fusion, from that which they ** present in their natural state.” These two circumstances, extracted from Spalanzani’s own account, of this horrible place (as he calls it), induce ‘me to believe, that these prisms also (though found in so ‘eritical a situation, as the crater of an existing volcano), like the others, I have already mentioned, were antece- dent to the first eruption. Thus, it appears, that every fact, stated by the advo- cates for the volcanic origin of basalt, when minutely ex- amined, leads to the same conclusion; that the basalts, supposed to be lava, existed, previous to the eruptions, or formation of the volcanos. _ I would be glad to know, what ideas the advocates for this theory annex, to the terms they are perpetually using; granitic lava, porphyritic lava, or, as Spalanzani says, petrosilex lava: unless it be, that granite, porphyry, and .petrosilex, were the mother. stones, from the fusion of which, these lavas were formed; and, that the more com- L2 inon 80 mon lava, generally called, by these gentlemen, basaltique lave, is merely fused basalt, as was first suggested, I be- lieve, by Mr. Werner, Hence, we can easily account for the resemblance be- tween basalt and Java: and we are no longer sur- prised, that chemists have proved them to consist of ex- actly the same materials, and in the same proportions. Whether Mr. St. Fond was aware, or not, that lava was. merely fused basalt, I will not presume to inquire; as he is perpetually asserting the contrary. Yet, it appears rather extraordinary, that the truth of this proposition should have escaped him; as Mr. Werner could not have demonstrated it better, than Mr. St. Fond himself has done, in the fourteenth chapter of his “* Mineralogie des ‘“* Volcans.” : The title he gives this chapter is, “ Basaltes et Laves ““ compactes, passant a Tetat des Laves cellulaires:” and he commences it, by pronouncing, “ les laves poreuses doivent “ leur origine a lave compacte, ou basalte recuite.” He then tells us, “art peut imiter en petit, ce que la nature execute “en grand: which he explains, by shewing, that, while nature fuses basalt, and turns it into lava, in the craters of volcanos; art can do the same. thing en petit, and change the basalt, of which lime-kilns are built, into po- rous lava. This he confirms by a specimen, which, though the work of art, “ n’en est moins propre a repandre du jour sur * Ja theorie des taves poreuses.” “ His 81 His comment, upon this specimen, I shall also give, in his own words. “ Ton voit dans cette echantillon, des parties, ou la lave “© est encore basaltique ; tandis que le reste est entierement chan- “« oée par Caction du feu, en lave poreuse.—Le passage du ba- “ salte, et de la lave compacte, a letat de lave poreuse, est “ tci fait par gradation.” I suspect this specimen of Mr. St. Fond, to be similar to the one, found by Mr. Whitehurst, at the Giant’s Causeway, among the fragments of lava, as he calls our rubble, “ a piece of iron ore, vitrified on one side: which * is some testimony, that the substances, supposed to be *« Java, have, also, been in a state of fusion.” This must have been a paltry volcano of Mr. White- hurst’s, that could vitrify but one side of this fragment. Dr. Troil, too, found, on the shoré, in one of the wes- tern islands of Scotland, a fragment, as he says, “ eate- © piorly, full of holes, and, in a manner, burnt.” This he sent, in great triumph, to Sir Torbern Bergman, as a proof, that volcanos had once burnt in these islands: Had either of these gentlemen looked around them, they would soon have found the craters, in which their respective specimens had been acted upon, to wit, ‘the ruins of kelp-kilns, with which the shores in both coun- tries abound. Upon the walls of these, the fire produces the same effect on the basalt, of which they are built, as the same agent does, at Mr. St. Fond’s lime-kilns. ™ An 82 An arch friend, amused at the discoveries these saga- cious gentlemen were making, in natural history, gave me a neat view of the profile of the cliff, beyond the Giant's Causeway; with a kelp-kiln, burning on the Causeway it- self, and people busily employed. Underneath, he gave the following explanation: The natives, at the Giant’s Causeway, making lava for Dr. Troil and Mr. Whitehurst. A new theory has sprang out of the volcanic one; as maintained by Mr. Desmarest, and the other gentlemen, whose works I have just now observed upon. Of this theory, J cannot avoid taking notice; since it is warmly defended, in his Letters on Antrim, by Dr. Hamilton, who spent much time in our basaltic country; and also (as I hear) supported, from a chair in our university, by a gentleman, whose able discharge of his duty, as professor, has done him much honour. This theory supposes basalt pillars to be formed, by crys- tallization, in ‘the interior of the craters of volcanos; and not, as hitherto supposed, in the currents of lava. And Dr. Hamilton (Lett. VII. Part 2.) labours much to prove, that currents of liquid lava are totally unfit for the forma- tion of crystals; while “ the interior of the mountain, at its ‘© lowest base, beneath the surface of the earth,’ is admirably adapted for the purpose. This new opinion seems to me to be founded, on a total dereliction of Mr. Desmarest’s premises, and a pertinacious adherence 83 adherence to his conclusion. Had Dr. Hamilton forgotten, that the only proof ever given, of the igneous origin of basalt prisms, was, that they were found in actual currents of lava? Admit the validity of his arguments, that they could not have been so formed; and the question, whether basalt was once: fluid lava? is to be taken up, de novo, not having as yet advanced a single step: for the aptitude of the new laboratories, which the advocates for this theory have dis- covered, proves nothing;: unless, they can also shew, that they have been actually employed, in the fabrication of such pillars and prisms. Dr. Hamilton seems well aware of the necessity of this species of proof; and’ promises it to his readers, provided they will have patience: but, he says, “ we’ must wait, ** until those volcanic’ mountains, which, at present, burn “* with so much fury, shall have completed the period of “ their existence; until the immense vaults, which now lie “ within their bowels, no longer able to support the incum- “ bent weight, shall fall in, and disclose, to view, the won- “ ders of the subterranean world: and then we may expect “* to behold, all the varieties of crystallization; such as must “ needs take place, in these vast laboratories of nature: “« then may we hope to see banks. and causeways of basalts.” I am sorry Dr. Hamilton has put off, to such a remote period, a proof, which would have effectually decided the question in his own fayour. Many naturalists, who now take an interest in it, may happen to complete the period of their own existence, before they are favoured with such ; perfect 84 perfect demonstration; and, particularly, Mr. Hoepfner, of Viel, who was so anxious for the solution of this question, that he promised a premium, of twenty-five rixdollars, to whoever would satisfactorily resolve it. What a pity, should this gentleman be unfortunately carried off, before he had an opportunity of witnessing Dr. Hamilton’s demonstration, and contemplating the magnificent spectacle he promises! I do not insinuate, that he relies solely on the evidence to be produced at remote periods: for he tells us; “ of such ** phenomena as these, we have even some anticipation, in “* the present living volcanos.” Thus, he says, “ the mountain de la Coupe rests on a columnar base; whose pillars have been laid bare, by “the impetuous torrents of the river Ardesche; whose ** banks are formed of columnar basalts;’ which, by this new, theory, were formed in the bottom of the crater. Here we have a happy instance of the dexterity, with which modern theorists select, from the same fact, such circumstances, as seem favourable to their opinions: never troubling their readers with those that make against them. For, though Dr. Hamilton refers us to Mr. St. Fond, for his account of this mountain, he takes no notice of the current of lava, which Mr. St. Fond traced from its crater to the plain; by which all the pavés about it were pitt od, as he says: and he both states, that basalt prisms fiOrMe,. é 3 ; ’ . ; he Bee gure in this a: and, also, = the view Lie mountain, and its current of lava, he ex- gives of this . . ; wine ine pillars, in the yery current. “ce Of 85 Of this important fact, which Mr. Whitehurst quotes with triumph, Dr. Hamilton takes uot ,the least notice; for, it would have been very awkward, when demonstrat- ing the impossibility, of basalt pillars being formed in currents of lava, to have mentioned an instance, where Mr. St. Fond, whom he admires so much, had found them Jin an actual current. As to the argument, drawn from Atna and, Mont de la Coupe, resting on columnar bases, I must observe, that, from the accounts, given by Mr. St. Fond and Mr, Dolo- mieu, of these mountains, it appears, that the whole country, surrounding the latter, was formed of columnar basalt; and, as to Aitna, Dr. Hamilton himself quotes Mr. Dolomieu, to shew, that, in its whole contour, basalt pillars were found, and that they formed a circular cincture about it, from twelve to eighteen hundred feet high. Now, if we adopt Dr. Hamilton’s theory, we must ad- mit, that the whole country, round these volcanos, was once included in their craters; a concession, which the reader will not readily make. Besides, Dr. Hamilton ascribes the formation of these prisms to crystallization; a principle totally different from that adopted by Mr. Desmarest. and Mr St.) Fond; \who ‘anake ‘the operations, by which they were formed, ,ana- logous ‘to desiccation ; and, like it, they seem to require -exposure to the external air: and Mr. Kirwan, has clearly proved, that basalt prisms do not acquire their regular VOL. X. M forms 86 forms by crystallization; as the differences between them, and all known crystals, are numerous and essential. I should now (as I do on similar occasions) proceed to shew, that, notwithstanding Dr. Hamilton’s plausible arguments, a priori, the abrupt promontories of Antrim (whose uncommon beauties, as he tells us, page 147, second part, resemble what will be exhibited at the grand opening of his vast laboratories of nature) were not formed according to the principles of this theory, But, as Dr. Hamilton has not given us any account whatsoever, of the volcanos, in whose craters the moun- _ tain of Dunmull, the mountain of Croaghmore, Fair-Head, towering magnificently, and the lofty cliffs of Magilligan, were formed; (and, to their summits, they are all composed of columnar basalt, by his own account;) I have no ma- terials to proceed upon; and must, therefore, limit myself to one general argument, applicable to all other volcanic countries, as well as to our own. The basalts of Auvergne are arranged in plusieurs etages, according to Mr. Desmarest. Mr. St. Fond applies the same phrase to Vivarais, and says, they were formed @ diverses reprises. The account of Sicily is similar; and, with us, they are invariably disposed, in successive, dis- tinct strata, which never could have been the result of fusion, in the crater of a volcano; as such an operation necessarily would have reduced them to ove mass, one stratum. 5 PART PART III. ARGUMENTS AGAINST THE VOLCANIC ORIGIN OF BASALT, DERIVED FROM ITS ARRANGEMENT IN THE COUNTY OF ANTRIM, AND FROM OTHER FACTS OBSERVED IN THAT COUNTRY. CELEBRARE DOMESTICA FACTA. HORACE. I HAVE, in the preceding parts of this Memoir, discussed most of the arguments, that have been adduced, by different writers, to support the volcanic origin of basalt: and I have examined the facts, stated by them, to try how far they apply to this question. I now return to my own country, which seems more co- piously furnished with curious basaltic facts, than any of those upon which foreign writers have. dwelt so much. The question (to us at least) is important; for it is the origin of the ground we live upon, that we are inquiring into: every particle of the surface of an extensive basaltic area, having merely a thin coat of most fertile earth, slightly covering basalt strata, accumulated upon each other to a great height; and, most frequently, as it were, bursting through this surface, and displaying, in perpendicular fa- ¢ades, the arrangement of the materials that support us. M 2 Whether 88 Whether these materials, so arranged, be formed by the hand of nature, in her original construction of the world;. and thus our basaltic strata (in the language of naturalists) be entitled to the appellation of primary: or, whether this construction of our country is to be consi- dered as produced by mighty agents, covering our quon- dam surface, with new, and secondary strata, poured forth from the bowels of the earth, is surely an interesting question, in the natural history of our country. And, as every writer, who has taken up the question, of the vol- canic origin of basalt, and maintained the affirmative, has recurred to the county of Antrim for proofs; I hope that T, too, will be allowed to extract, from the same source, such proofs, as appear to me to support the negative. In discussing this question, I shall abstain from all ar- guments a priori, and limit myself to facts alone: of which I hope to lay before the reader, several, that have escaped the notice of my predecessors; feeling, that I ought to make him some amends for having detained him so long, in a barren discussion of opinions, and an uninteresting detection of misrepresentations. Before I proceed to compare the circumstances, in which our basaltic area resembles, or differs from, volca- nic countries; I must answer a charge, that has been brought against me. I have been told, that it is pre- sumption in me, who never saw a volcano, to take up a question, the solution of which must depend upon an in- timate knowledge, both of basaltic, and volcanic countries. I first 89 OD first plea ‘example; cas not one of my predecessors, who have written upon this topic, has (so far as I canf%, find) examined both ‘volcanic countries, and our basaltic GResiw Holton } ; I ‘have also authority for saying, that an examination of existing volcanos is not very instructive. Mr. Kirwan _ tells: as; €ollini twice ascended Vesuvius, and witnessed its eruptions; but''complaims, he got no knowledge by it. Mr. Ferber’s testimony is exactly similar. And, indeed, it is plain, that, in'.an° eruption, the lighter materials, first projected upwards; then, falling down, and accumulating upon the’ weightier, that had flowed in lava, must make it very difficult to trace arrangement: and this is. the © surest guide, in all questions relative to cosmogony. Mr. Strange’s observations on this topic are amusing: he . Jets Gut the secret, without knowing it; or availing him- self of it. He says, “The phenomena of recent volcanos “ are very little calculated to give us instruction. ‘A. few “ days tour in Auvergne, Velay, or the Venetian State, “* are worth.a seven years apprenticeship at the foot of “ Vesuvius: or Autna.” Mr. Strange was not aware, that ideietspey Velay, and the parts of the Venetian state he alludes to, were ori- ginally basaltic countries, in which, afterwards,, volcanos erupted. Here he found a rich variety.ef materials: for, besides the common volcanic substances, he found all the varieties of basalt, with the matters) that usually accom- pany them, echres, zeolites, chalcedonies, and calcareous spar ; while | 90 while at AStna and Vesuvius, he met with burnt matters alone. i The points of view, in which I shall compare volcanic countries, as described by the most accredited writers, with our basaltic district, so often referred to, by the same authors, are: First. The prominent features, and general resemblance. | Secondly. The different arrangement of the materials, in voleanic, and our basaltic countries. Thirdly. Frequent change in the arrangement of the materials, in our basaltic country. Fourthly. Striking and radical differences between our basalt strata, and all known currents of lava. Fifthly. Substances found imbedded in our basalt, and never in lava. Sixthly. Different effects produced upon foreign sub- stances (particularly calcareous), when coming in contact with basalt, and with lava. Seventhly, Divisibility of the mass into regular forms, essential to basalt, but never noticed in lava. First. The general and leading features of volcanic countries are admitted to be, isolated mountains, generally conic, truncated cones, vast craters, with currents of lava issuing from them, which may be traced many miles. But, as all writers upon this topic candidly admit, that we have nothing similar in this country; I will not press the argument; nor enquire, whether their modes, of ac- counting 91 counting for the want, of these features, be satisfactory ES ee Or eee Secondly. If basalt be lava, and (as this theory sup- poses) once flowed. from a volcano, we should expect to find it arranged, in the. same manner, with the currents of Java, which, are contiguous to most. known volcanos. But here the difference is most striking: for, while all writers, that, describe volcanic countries, represent. the ejected matters as confusedly. arranged, and, altogether, a heap of disorder; with us, we observe, in , the disposal, of our basalt, the most consummate regularity : every separate stratum preserving steadily its. own place, and never. break- ing into that of another. ie _ Besides, most. writers admit, . that sagnaiein te of lava are never parallel to, one, another: while, our basalt strata, ac- cumulated upon cach other, preserye the most steady pa- rallelism, When we compare our accumulations of basalt strata, with accumulations of currents of lava, which have been heaped upon one ‘another, by successive eruptions, we ob- serve a most important difference. Currents of lava have always a layer of vegetable earth between them: this is admitted by all parties. For, while those, who wish to im- peach the chronology’ of” Moses, | make a prodigious inter- val between the eruptions, necessary for the formation of this! layer'of earth; Moses’s advocatesprove, from, facts, that’ it is often formed in’a much’ shorter time. Interposing ‘92 Interposing layers between currents of lava, being thus established, we are to look, if any thing similar can be observed between basalt ‘strata: but no such thing is to be found. Our basalt strata, whether of the same, or of different varieties, pass into each other per saltum, without interrupting the solidity of the mass, or without exhibit- ing a particle of extraneous matter between them.* Thirdly. I observed, ‘in a former Memoir, that, on our basaltic coast, nature changes ‘her materials, and the stile of her alrangement, | every | ‘two or three’ miles ;* a fact, which opposes unsurmountable difficulties ‘to the position, that the basalt strata, forming this coast, are of volcanic origin. I will select two or threé of these’ numerous little systems, and state the order in which the strata ‘are ar- ranged in each of them, in ‘a vertical direction; ‘to give the advocates for their voleanic origin an opportunity ‘of exerting their ingenuity, by shewing how they manage their * Tam aware, that the ochreous layers, or strata, lying between our greatér basalt strata, may be stated, as contradicting this position. The nature of these ochres (common to all basaltic countries) has given rise to much controversy; which were I to enter into now, I would be led’ too far from the present question. But, as'this fossil makes a most conspicuous /figure in many parts of Antrim, I think it well entitled to a.place in; the statistical survey of that county; the basaltic part of which I have undertaken, to oblige my friend, Mr. Dubourdieu. On the present occasion I shall only say, ‘int I.accede to theconclusion, which Mr. St. Fond adopted, after long doubt, and much puzzling; to wit, “© That these ochres were pure basalt, “altered by some chemical operation of “ nature, with which we are unacquainted.” 93 0 their voleanos, to make them (produce stich diversified effects. _From Dunluce to, Seaport; the facade (here the base of the arrangement) is composed. of, strata .of tabular basalt . upon which are ,accumulated, up to the summit of Dun-: mull, columnar, strata, mixed, with others, of the variety called irregular prismatic...) xf East from, Carrickarede,, the pase, of the ficade is shite limestone: upon which, as, long .as it;continues perpen- dicular, we find. ochreous. and. columnar strata alternating ; while the hill of Knocksoghy,, above, is an uniform alter- nation. of cohunnar and (irregular prismatic. The strata, forming, the,, promontory, of Bengore, are more irregularly mixed:, six of tabular basalt, five colum-) nar, of four different varieties, three ochreous, and.two ir- regular prismatic, sixteen.in all; of which, after! the ta- bular, that forms the base, no two of the same kind, are contiguous to each other, _The volcanist ,will see, that he must find a distinct yol- cano for every, separate little system, surrounding our area; and that he: must. make the, same crater emit dif- ferent varieties of lava, and frequently by alternation. Fourthly. An examination: of-our, basalt. strata, taken separately, and so compared, with distinct currents of lava, will, I apprehend, turnout as little favourable: to. their: volcanic origin, as the comparison oftheir masses. ‘appear to do. VOR. x. N : Whoever O04 Whoever has read’ Mr. Desmarest’s Memoir, or even my quotations from it, must admit, that, if his theory be well founded, all our basalt strata must have once been cur- rents of liquid lava; and, of course, should resemble those known to have: issued: from existing volcanos. But, I apprehend, instead of similarity, the most decided differ- ences will be found between them. Currents of lava, we are told, are always narrower and deeper, in the vicinity of the crater; broader and _ shal- lawer, as farther removed from it: but our basalt ‘strata are of uniform thickness in their whole- extent. There is another point of view, in which-the difference, between basalt strata, and currents of lava, is still more decided. Sir William Hamilton, Ferber, Spalanzani, and even’ Mr. Desmarest himself, inform’ ‘us, that, in all cur- rents of) lava, the materials) composing them: are’ invaria- bly arranged, in a- regular gradation, according’ to their specific gravities: thus, at the lowest’ part of ‘the current, compact: lava, then cellular: Java, then scoria, next cin- ders, and lastly, volcanic ashes. But, in our basalt strata, nothing similar is observed: the material'is uniform; both density and specific gravity the same, through: the whole thickness of our deepest. strata. Fifthly. That’ basalt never was in fusion, appears plainly, from the substances found in it, and never in lava; and which, from their nature, could not have sustained the heat of a volcano. Of 95 Of these, zeolite, chalcedony, and. calcareous spar, seem to abound. in. the) basalt of all countries, but never have been noticed in unquestioned lava. The first fuses, and the third calcines, in'a very moderate heat; and, though chalcedony) be more refractory, yet) exposed to a strong heat, it loses its; beauty,, and, the delicacy it~ exhibits in its natural state. These substances are most copiously dispersed, also, through our basalts; .but, as this topic has already been often urged, I, will pass.on to sub- stances, peculiar to my own country. _ A. variety of basalt, found,in abundance at) Portrush, and the Skerrie Islands, is full of pectinites of belem- nites, and, above all,,of cornua ammonis: these are dis- _persed through the whole mass, ‘equally abundant. in the interior, and on the surface... This basalt vitrifies, and the marine..substances,; it. contains, calcine, m the. fire of .a'‘common salt-pan; of course, never could have sus- tained a volcanic heat. Another fact occurs, which seems. decisive against the volcanic origin of basalt. Some. varieties of -this fossil, contiguous to Portrush, and the Giant's) Causeway; upon being broken by a’ sledge, discover, in their. interior, -ca- vities,; some. filled , with . fresh | water. others, bearing: evi- _ dent marks, of.. haying, once eontained it., Of these basalts, some were of a different variety from that of the Giant's _ Causeway,. but! of, similar grain: andthardness; ‘others ‘were precisely of the, same. variety, columnar, prismatic, antiou- _lated, and. exactly, the same in grain. At othe ,Causeway Nn 2 ; itself, 96 itself, I never found any; but, in some basalts very near it, on the west side, I have met with it: these had fal- len from an upper stratum. A most respectable correspondent, to whom I com- municated this fact, as new in natural history, tells me, he suspects, the water: passed in by percolation. Determined to pay all attention to any, thing, suggested from such high authority, I took my friend, Mr. Joy, to the spot, where I used to find the water in the greatest abundance (Ballylagan). We broke several stones, and, where we found water, observed, that, at first, it wet the whole fracture evenly; but, as it evaporated gradually, the wet was confined to cracks, diverging from the little cavity that had contained the water. ‘These, therefore, we at- first supposed, must have been the passages, through which the water had made its way: but, on attentively examining the cracks, we perceived, that, as they radiated from the cavity, they diminished in breadth, and finally terminated in the solid stone; of course, that the water had not come in by them. Another fact seems conclusive against percolation. [I never found, in our basalt, any cavities, but those which contained water, or which bore evident marks of having been once filled with it. We have, therefore, this alter- native: Either the water first made its way through the com- pact tissue of the basalt, then collected, and dilated it- self with such force, as to form rounded cavities, often larger 97 larger than 2 pistol bullet, which, on many occasions, it afterwards forsook: Or, we must-admit the water to have been coeval with the basalt; to which, of course, we cannot: ascribe an igneous origin. Sixthly. As we know the hieti state of ignition, in which lava issues from a volcano, it is reasonable to ex- pect, that, when, in its course, it meets with extraneous substances, it should produce upon them such altera- tions, as are the usual effect of intense heat, applied to these same substances. Basalt, likewise, is often found in contact with similar matters. Hence, by a minute exa- mination of these contacts, we have an obvious mode of ascertaining, whether the basalt also. had encountered ‘them, in the same state of ignition, we know the lava did. As my country, to a great extent around me, is’ com- posed of nothing but basalt and limestone, I have no other substance but limestone, upon which I can make observations. This, however, I apprehend, will be found abundantly sufficient, to decide the question. About one hundred yards from the beautiful cavern, called Long Gilbert, near the eastern extremity of the calcareous facade, a mile from Portrush, we find, half way up the precipice, a vast basaltic rock, inserted in the middle of the limestone mass; and, at the contact, so united to the limestone, as to form, with it, but one solid mass. The 98 The peninsula of Kenbaan, near Ballycastle, is the spot, where basalt and limestone come -in contact in every possible way. Pieces of limestone. of all sizes, im- bedded in the basaltic mass, and similar fragments of ba- salt, dispersed in like manner through the limestone; and, _in the precipice above, strata of basalt, and limestone alternating. Here the opportunities, of examining the con- tact of basalt and limestone, are numberless; and, .on every occasion, I found them united solidly; the line of demarcation correct, as if drawn by a pencil; not the least trace of calcination, such as might be expected from the calcareous matter, coming in contact with so glowing a mass, as this theory supposes our basalt to have been.* This unexpected circumstance has » somewhat embar- rassed the volcanists; who, to account for it, have been driven to yarious exertions of their ingenuity: but not one of them seems ever to have inquired what was the result, when calcareous matters came in contact with actual lava, as it flowed. Here.an obyious mode presents itself, of decidmg, the question, whether basalt and lava have a common origin. For, if their contacts with cal- careous matter produce the same effects upon it, we -have a strong _presumption in favour of the aflirmative. On ~* The result ‘of my observations, on the contacts of basalt and limestone, perfectly correspond with those of Mr. St, Fond, in Vivarais. (Min. des Vol- cans, chap. 13.) Dr. Hamilton, I admit, saw things in a different point of view; but, as he does not refer us to the places, where he examined these contacts, 1 cannot bring the point to issue in my country. 99 ~ On the contrary; should the effects turm out. to be totally different, we have a conclusive argument in support of the negative. Whether. this mode, of bringing the question. to: issue, did not occur to. the:gentlemen, who support the volcanic origin of basalt; or whether they did not like to commit a favourite theory to so. rude a, test, 1 will not presume to conjecture. Direct evidence, with a, view to the ques- tion, I admit, I have none; yet, by an attentive exa- mination of different writers on volcanic subjects, I find pretty good light is thrown upon this topic. The evi- dence I will adduce, is, I confess, indirect, and the men- tion of the subject incidental: yet I do. not, therefore, give it less weight; for, since | engaged in polemic na- tural history, I have discovered, that a reliance on posi-. tive assertion, is not the surest mode of obtaining truth. The first evidence I shall produce, to the effect of actual. glowing lava, upon. calcareous substances, is that of Lord Winchelsea: whose letter to King Charles II. (quoted by Sir William. Hamilton), giving an. account of the great eruption of tna in 1669, says; “ Where the streams of “ lava meet with rocks and stones of the same matter, ““ (as many are), ‘they melt, and go away with the fire. “ Where they meet with other compositions” (calcareous, no doubt), “ they turn them to lime or ashes.” Mr. Ferber’s testimony on the subject is decisive. He gives us, in his eleventh letter, a catalogue. of. ejections from Vesuvius; of which No. 6 is, by his account, “ white 100 oe a white limestone or marble, in loose pieces; some burnt and calcined.” He observes, “ they are found, likewise, in the ashes and lava, and then constantly calcined and “* farinaceous.” Again, Letter 14, he says, “ at Monte Albano, the lava, as well as the piperino, contain cal- cined fragments of limestone.” Tozzetti di Targioni, in his elaborate account of the mineralogical productions of his own country, confirms Ferber’s testimony, as to the uniform calcination of cal- careous substances.* ral nn Since, then, glowing lava uniformly calcines the calca- reous substances it comes in contact with, and_ basalt produces no effect whatsoever upon them; are we not to conclude, that it did not encounter them in a state a fu- sion? which is the point in question. Seventhly. Upon the last difference I shall mention, between basalt and lava, I must dwell a little longer: both because it seems radical and essential; and also, be- cause it lays. open some new and curious facts, relative to basalt, which have hitherto escaped notice. I allude * Tozzetti is full on the subject. He says, (page 448, Vol. IX.) ‘* Se ‘¢ materiali sieno di natura witrescentt, formeranno lave vetrine, se calcaret o << apirt, le formeranno polverose.” Page 250. ‘* In essi (lave vesuviane) si vedono misti materie vetrificate, “* con materie calcinate, e con altri quasi non punto tocche dal fuoco.” Page 252. ‘* Il fuoco volcanico, nelle vescere della montagna di San ‘* Fiora, abbia offeso—fuse le massolette di metalli, e calcinate o yetrifi- “* cate, secondo la loro attitudine altre sostanze.” 101 I allude to that property, which all basalt strata, that I ever examined, have, of dividing or separating into re- gular forms, generally with plain sides. Yor, that this is a principle inherent in the mass, and coeval with its original formation, is obvious, from the striking difference between the plain brown side of the figure, and the irregular, granular fracture, generally blue or grey: the former an arrangement of nature, the uniform effect of a cause, with which we are unacquainted; the latter the irregular ef- fect of a violent stroke or impulse. If the theory we are discussing be well founded, all our basalt strata were once currents of lava, flowing from voleanos. For this we have the authority; or, rather, the assertion, of the founder, and the most accredited sup- porters of the opinion. In substances, therefore, by their accounts, exactly the same, and of the same origin, (for they use basalt and lava-as synonymous terms,) we have a right to expect similar properties; and to look for in lava, an internal arrangement of the mass into regular forms, conformable to what we meet with in all basalts. But nothing similar has been observed in lava, and the de- scription of the Volvic lava is irreconcileable to this pro- perty; for we are told it breaks in all directions, casse en tout sens: and Mr. Desmarest himself mentions this, as a mark of distinction, between it and the neighbouring basalt. In distinguishing the varieties of lava, we have a clew to guide us. We know the process by which it was VOL. &. Oui ; formed: formed; and often, upon inspection, we can discover the original material, the mother stone, by whose fusion it was made. The operation itself, too, enables us to make new distinctions, from the different intensity of heat, and different gradations in cooling. On the centrary, we get ‘litthe information from in- specting the fracture of basalt. We can tell, that in some, the constituent materials are more completely blended, than in others: which seems the same thing as to say, there is much difference in grain; a great interval between the coarsest and the finest. But all this is by insensible shades; no‘such thing as drawing lines, by which we can mark the varieties of this fossil. Even where other dif- ferences are most essential, betsveen the varieties of ba- salt, inspection cannot be relied upon. For instance, the siliceous basalt, full of marine exuvie, passes, by gra- dation, from a grain, as fine as jasper, until it becomes indistinguishable from the Giant’s Causeway stone, and even coarser. If we look to nature for assistance, in classing the va-~ rieties of basalt, we will be no longer at a loss: we will find, she -has impressed an indelible character» on each variety of this fossil; a specific figure, into which every stratum is divisible, in its whole extent: being formed, as it were, by an agglutination of similar figures;* an the same stratum, * Ido not use the word similar, in.a strict mathematical sense; mean- ing no more than a strong, general likeness, so decided, that the figures of one variety cannot be mistaken for those of another. 103 stratum, all of nearly the same degree of perfection; but, when we compare different strata, of the same variety, the perfection or neatness of the work varies, until it passes into an amorphous mass- Nature seems to have provided, as carefully, for the pre- servation of the distinctive characters, of the different va- rieties of basalt, as she has done, to prevent confusion in the several tribes of the animal and vegetable king- doms. We-see our basalts often, by gradation, losing their own forms, but never assuming that of another variety; and, in the last stage of evanescent form, we can trace an effort to preserve’ their own appropriate figure. This is very observable in our columnar basalt, and: in the long horizontal prisms. of our whyn dykes. I can also trace something like a generic difference, between, the,.varicties of our basalt: for some of them have but one principle of construction, to wit, the ex- ternal, visible forms; into which, upon the slightest in- spection, they appear to be divided: no internal con- struction; the fracture irregular, and generally conchoi- dal. ‘Fhe basalts of this class are, the columnar, the ir- regular prismatic, and the tabular.. I have not been able to discover subordinate forms, or an internal construction, in any of these basalts. Other varieties, on the contrary, are regularly arranged internally; the large prism breaking into smaller, some- times to a great degree of minuteness, as in the Port- rush siliceous basalt.. The coarse Portrush basalt, whose 102 prisms 104 prisms are mostly quadrangular, and the unarticulated pillars of Ballylagan, have, likewise, the same property, in an inferior degree; while the basalts of our whyn dykes have often their subordinate prisms finished with great neatness.* But the forms, into which our basaltic masses divide, are, by no means, limited to prismatic alone. The pyra- mid is a common figure in our whyn dykes; and the most perfect joints, ef the Giant’s Causeway pillars, par- take both of the prism and of the pyramid, and have also a mixture of curve, and plain surfaces: the latter in number equal to the denominator of the figure; while the former amounts to double that number, plus two. Thus, a pentagon joint, taken from one of our most perfect pillars, has five plain, and twelve curve surfaces; but curve surfaces. are irreconcileable, either to crystal- lization or desiccation.+- We have another variety of -basalt, whese surfaces ex- ternal, * This subordinate construction is well illustrated, in a drawing of three prismatic stones, taken from a great whyn dyke (now used as a quarry), nearly two miles west from Belfast. The constituent figure here, is a triangular prism, whose angles, at the base, seem double the anyle at the vertex. My ingenious friend, Dr. M‘Donnel, ‘to whom I had mentioned the curious construction of our whyn dykes, was so struck, when he’saw the prismatic stones, of which this dyke is formed, extracted from the quarry, that he em- ployed a painter, to make a drawing of some of them; and he was so good as to give me a copy. + The acute-angled, triangular pyramzds, which ascend from each angle ef the joint, and often reach up to the middle of the incumbent one, have their 105 ternal, and, if ‘I be allowed "the expression; internal, ‘aré all curves: ‘its form is round, and it is* wba 2 of’ concen- tric spheres, like ‘the. pellields' of ‘an obion.o7 10 6 ‘This variety Mr.St: Fond hinisel® adasits’ not!'to be of volcanic origin. He says, (Min.. “és Vole? page 46,) it must hue taken this configuration ndturally.! oe tHOdE ‘Of Parvange- mhent, ii? the places where it-is' found, séenis still more ex traordinary:! It is ‘oehérally inibeddéW"in an indurated ba- saltic paste; in Mr. St. Fond’s language, incorporeé’et en- castreé dans des massifs dé. basatte wi porns Tn this state, it is pene Haier built inthe — of walls of which ‘the glo- Lv 74 48 ular DUS . OO s4) SEE angles. The concave and convex bases add two more; a by Sir Tor- ae Bergman’s definition, crystals are bounded by plain surfaces. _ These fore cannot be exhibited in distinct ‘joints; for, the cohesion i is so strong, that the ascendihg pyramids invariably break‘ off, as the joints aré separated from the pillar. It is the :projecting fracture that ‘remains, which gives the) joint. the. appearance joe amural cr Gena, Be, was observed by the early writers on the, subject. “The destruction Of these’ ‘ascending pytamids) makés the’ separate joint totally: different from what it) was, when existing in the perfect pillar. To illustrate all this, I give a drawing of two pillars: one, as it appears, when long exposed to the air, which acts Principally upon the joints; while the dilatation and contraction, from heat and “cold, looseris the pytamids, and sepatates them from the pilazil .boaio Ig YO The secend pillar exactly represents the state in which they .appear'; where the mass is s lately auatried into, and the air has ; not had time to operate. © ~ Tadd’ some joints‘in théit natural’ state) ! This nicety of construction avin, as; the pillars graduate through, imperfection, to. an, amorphous mass; yet occasional traces of it are long obseryable. 106 ular basalt is;the stones, and th¢e!,umformed the cement, Ihave, preat; Treason to,-believe, that.-the jvarieties {of basalt, in other countries, are, ‘exactly, the sdme.as in our own; and;,that; mature; | thas idaken the same pains to: wild them, distinet, every, Wheng. cil) rriduss , ‘Thege olammar, basalt, of, all. countries, , gre en vn cisely,,with that,of the,Giant’s Causeway, and;our other groups, as appears from: the sameness of their curious articu- Jagianssscoqcoont sesueasl a bro’ zo | Our; nregular sar ee acti answers att sea EG of the basalt, iacumbent on, the columnar. at .Bolsena, as given by Ferber. It is obviously similar to those at La Trezza and Pont du Baume ; and Mr. Mills’s view of the isolated basaltic | tock,’ ‘at “Ardtin (Phil. Trans. 1790), ac- curately represents, this, variety i in, many facades, 0 near, the Giant’s Causéwayys o3 bbs eesd xovaoo bas ofan Sir Joseph Banks's ' ‘adéount of the ° ‘Stratum, ingumberit on the columnar, at Stafla, mi ght. serve, for our regular prismatic; in most: ‘places; and, ‘the moment. I shewed my friend; Mr Joy; 6ur “‘tieat” pillars: at Craigahuller, he perceived the striking likeness, between the stratum, in- cumbent on-thent, andithat covering Se grand aedlannade at SEA fae B00 oe" i , a Fhe.. ‘sight, an alg we ge of the Scotch eg dykes, shew, that they are formed, Uke, our; own, of harigontal pristis.07 ou ny S36 fio79'ig azo “sll And our JoeB basalts, with ‘concentric aneatl so cu- riously imbedded, as. werfind. them, at, Port,,Cooan, near the: Giant's iCauseway, : and ining some whyn dykes, at Belfast 107 Belfast Lough, are precisely the same with those, taken notice of by Mr. St. Fond, at Ardenne, at Cheidevant, at Montbrul; and also by Mr. Strange, in the Venetian statesg=s Until the advocates, for the volcanic origin of basalt, can discover, in lavas, something corresponding to these curious circumstances, attending our basalts; can they per- sist in pronouncing them to be identically the same? The one (if I may be allowed to use the expression), a fac- titious substance, of known, and posterior formation; the other, bearing evident marks of the hand of nature, both in its general arrangement in- mighty strata, and also in its numerous varieties. For we know, that nature de- lights in diversifying her operations; and in executing, what seems to us, the same work, in many different ways. VOL J PPUPIS. _ ON COMPARATIVE MICROMETER MEASURES.. vel IN A LETTER Salers DR. J. A. HAMILTON, DEAN OF CLOYNE, “ro ‘THE REV. re BRINKLEY, F-R. S. Wa aaah MS 2 10 0 3) Yo oniatys [> cst bs OBSERVATORY, ARMAGH, JAN, 10, 1805, READ, FEB. 4'4, 1805, I. BEG. ee lisaen le you, to communicate to our Aca- demy> the following, paper,» on» comparative observations made: withi different! kinds : of »micrometers; which, I hope; may ber deemed worthy. their. notice.|)-It was’ suggested to mie;sd longisince: as m the year 1794, that a comparative view of the result of the measures, made under similar cir- cumstances, of the diameters; of: the heavenly bodies, with the different! kinds of micrometers, that are now most gene- rally used by:astronomers, might have! considerable use; as well ins confwming the determinations of the values of the diameters,. .as:givencby former observations, as in deciding on ithe:merits of the different instruments; and shewing, at one wiew,; aisort) of harmony: of micrometers! | My own opi-= - nidn, .oni this: subject, entirely) coincidmg> with that of the learned: friend; who made; this: proposal, [set about making comparative observations of the measures: of the: sun’s dia-- ‘VOD X. * P meters, 110 meters, as taken with the old wire micrometer, made in the. best manner, by Mr. Dollahd; with his divided object-glass micrometer; and ‘with a ten-inch reflecting sextant, exe- cuted, in a very capital stile’ indeed, by Messrs. Troughton. Before I proceed to the detail of the observations, it may be proper to premise a’ short account of the nature and adjustments of the several instruments, that were the subjects of this experiment. The wire micrometer, as its name denotes, measures intervals, by the separation of two moveable wires: these wires should perfectly coincide, when the index of the scale marks O or zero: and the quantity of the separation of the wires, made by the turning of the screw which effects it; is denoted by revolutions, and parts of revolutions, of the index, over a graduated circle, at- tached to the micrometer’s screw; which, in this instrument, consists of fifty sub-divisions.:: 'There'are several. ways of ‘ascertaining the values of these revolutions: and sub-divi- sions, in arcs of a great circle in the heavens. The method. which I adopted was this: the microscope being fitted to an achromatic telescope, on an equatorial stand, I carefully separated the wires by fifteen exact revolutions; and then turning round the whole system, till a fixed wire, at right angles to the measuring wires, was in a plane parallel to the equator, I measured, by the sydereal clock, the time the sun’s limb, and various fixed stars took, to run along the fixed wire, from centre to centre of the measuring wires. This trial was very frequently and repeatedly made; and the stars and sun’s limb, being all reduced to the equator, the . general 111 general: result gave 121”,1, for the equatorial interval of the fifteen revolutions.’ This interval, reduced to space, made each revolution of the figured head = to 2’\and:1” of mea- sure; ‘and, ‘of; course, each iof the fifty sub-divisions = to Q",A2nearly: of an arch ofthe equator. ‘Im making the subsequent measures /of the sun's diameter, or that of any other! celestial.are,; the measure was always finished, by moving’ the iwire) in: the direction in which the fifteen. re- volutions were originally made. The advantage of this mi- crometer is principally. this: that, in adjusting the telescope, and the micrometer ::wires, to distinct. vision, no alteration is ‘made, | by the difference of the conformation of the eye, or of focal distance, that suits that ofthe observer, in the value-of the.-are) to. be measured.) The principal defects of it are:-the difficulty of judging: accurately of bisections, or contacts of the fine wires, by the: limbs to be measured ; and: the impossibility of observing any diameter, except the one perpendicular to the equator. The objéct-glass micrometer is' an métrument, now so familiar’ to €very person conversant in the use of astrono- mical. instruments,; that it is: only necessary to say, that mine was made, and adapted to a triple object-glass achro- matic telescope, of 42-inches focal distance, by Mr. Dol- land, and its scale very carefully verified by himself; and that the scale is, as usual, divided into inches, 10% 20%» and vernier divisions; that, when it is applied, it lengthens the focal distance of the telescope about 6 inches; thus making: it 48 inches, or 4 feet focal distance. PQ The 112 The advantages of this species of micrometer are: the large scale, the fine images formed, and the facility of mea- suring diameters in every possible direction. | Its, imper- fections are: that, to different eyes, and under different circumstances of the!same eye, the length of the focal ‘di- stance, that suits distinct vision, will vary; and, of course, the quantity of the measures; given by the scale, are liable to a small variation. The goodness. of the telescope is, also, in some degree, impaired, by the application of this contrivance of a divided object-glass. It.should be noted, that! the wire and object-glass mi- crometers, were both adapted, in their turns, to the same achromatic telescope; and the comparative observations made as near to each other, in point of time, as possible. ‘he diameters of the sun, measured by the ten-inch sex- tant, were taken with a small achromatic telescope, mag- nifyimg about twelve times, and were observed on the limb, and on the arch of excess, several times alternately; the measures .being always finished in the same direction of the micrometer’s screw: and the quarter of the double mea- sure was used as the semidiameter, with the addition of 3”; which is the known diminution of the image of the sun’s semidiameter, after the reflections and refractions it under- goes in the process. As the three kinds of micrometers, just described, are so completely different from each other, in their construction, adjustment, and mode of mensuration, I consider them as fully sufficient to make an experiment on the probable consistency of the results which may be obtained 113 obtained from different good micrometers; and shall now proceed to give a detail of the actual observations. ae , yi thde mle NOs PRR August 26, D. O. G. Micr™. -+-:: . 15’. 53,835 Q pia 15'. 53,52 Wire Micr’. --++++- 15'. 54”,03 § z Sept®, 3, D. O. G. Mier. +++ +5455) 154. 564,01 yf) Wire Miers --+- pees 15’. 55,9 A set of ten, all agreeing on the 15’, 55,4, sextant, on the limb, and arch Of EXCESS - etree rere eeees 15’, 55/0 - 2. TS. Vv. get 11, D.O.G. Mier. 3. 5. 1.19.5) 13! 56",54 Error of ead ; / “ © §, De 'W. Mier. 15. a 15! 57,1 aaa Sextangy 1560553! 15’. 58",0 3s R. . : Sept? 17, Dr of © 15. 43. W. Mic.) 15’. 58",3 BY ‘ ; 15’, Mt le Sextant, “s--.s... eee § 15" 59",3 5 58",9 Sept? 27, D. O. G. Micr' ---...;. 16’, 185 Wire Mier Be hoc ra altos ane 16". 1.95 16", al ; | Sextant + Be a alia lavela beter te 16’. iGo, 1794, 7 83) DY Os _sitedee neaisaiaoartas Oct 4, D. 0G, Mierss-+3:++15+, 164 94576 9, Fae Wire Micr. «++++> eae 16 4! ‘ 16’. 3",6. Oct" 6, Sextant oe BU cee eeeeeeeest 164. 30 The wire micrometer measures, taken from this time till the next vernal equinox, are omitted; inasmuch, as being taken nearly in a vertical circle, the excess of the’ effect of refraction on the sun’s L. L., required a correction from the tables of refraction; which is liable to: some degrée of uncertainty at low altitudes. They were found, however, to agree very nearly. Dect 14. By a set of measures of the sun’s diameters, on the limb and arch of excess, taken, with great care, parallel to the horizon, images extremely distinct, and no dis- cernible spring whatever in the index. o's SD. + 3"=2 16’. 18",0 } Dect 15, D. O. G. Micr. --++---- $ 16. 17,83 Semidiameters We asgiven Dect 99, D.'O. G. Micr. .-.... --9 16. 18",9 Q 16. 19,2. Sextant + 3”, .......... $ 16. 18”,0 § nd 1795. Feby 16, D. O. G. Micr. -------- ? 16’. 13,45 Set of good Obacevdtions 16% 13” with sextant, -+------ 4 NGeetoe. 0) ———————————=—[_7_[=[{=>=_— 115 1795. March 30't and $15. Day very favourable; various sets of measures . taken with divided. object-glass and wire micrometers. The extremes of the divided object-glass micrometer measures never exceeding 1”. Those of the wire micrometer 0: Ss. D®. ©. “D. O. G. Micr*. «+ --e.- +2. 16". alas 2 »))* Wire Micr. Tt ee, | 16’. 19 § June 8, The two different micrometers were applied to the 42-inch achromatic telescope, and the scales verified. Semidiameters of ©, as given in the Nautical Almanack. 4 Same day, D. O. G. Mier. fink oroteyeee } 15’, 48,1 Wire Micr. ---++++++-$ 15/, 46",45 June 9, D. O. G, Mic, ---.-+- i 15’. 46,95. Troughton’s sextant + 3”,§ 15’. 48”,0 §. 15’, 48,0. ‘June 15; D. O. G: Micr’. -.... weed 15°: 45" ’ A } 459 0s) area, Wire Micr’, -----+..---- pds Sy 4G7, * This curtation of the sun’s semidiameter is the effect of the difference of. refraction of the L. L. of the sun from the upper. 116 1795. June 19, The measures, with the different micrometers, were taken with the greatest care; and a mean of internal and external contacts, of the sun’s limb to the micrometer wires, was used as the measure of the sun’s disk by the wire micrometer. nr Mean apogeal semi- Semidiameters of ©, as given S. 2p SO, J diameter of the sun. in the Nautical Almanack, D. O. G. Micr.y 15’. 457,26 5 3 2 15!. 46” } e "oO. * Wire Micr®..-§ 15’. 45", 505 ; 40", 38 | 15’. 47°',0 The sextant, on June 25‘, shewed, from a careful set of mea- sures, the apogeal semidiameter of the sun, 15’. 44’, , On attending to the difference of the sun’s apogeal semi- diameters, as shewn by the divided object-glass micrometer, and the wire micrometer, I had recourse to some: former astronomical records on this subject. By referring to De la Lande’s Astronomy, article 1387, I find, that, in the year 1758, De la Caille observed the apogeal semidiameter to be 15’. 47,2; and. that De la Lande, in 1760, made- it 15’, 45",95.4 These two measures happen to correspond so exactly with mine, as made with the different micrometers, that it may be a matter of some consequence, to enquire, what; kind, of * This measure comes nearer to the calculated apogeal semidiameter of the sun than the former; but as, at the making of these observations, the state of - the air caused the sun’s limb to undulate, perhaps the divided object-glass micrometer, having a much greater magnifying power, than was used with the sire micrometer, its observations may haye been rendered more uncertain. 117 of micrometers they used to deduce their respective semi- diameters. It is unnecessary to extend these observations any farther. I shall, therefore, only add to this paper, that it will appear, by comparing the divided object-glass micrometer’s mea- sures of the sun’s diameters, of December 15, 1794, and of June 19, 1795, that the difference of the perigeal and apo- geal diameters of the sun was found to be 65’,14. De la Lande found this difference 64,8. but he calls it, in round numbers, 65”. Note. Where no notice is taken of the time of obser- vations, it is to be understood they were taken very near _ to noon, and as soon after each other as micrometers could be changed. The originals of these observations, and several others, are to be seen in the registry of observations kept at the Observatory, Armagh, for the years 1794 and 1795. I have the honor to be, DEAR SIR, Your faithful and obedient servant, JAMES A. HAMILTON, VOL. X. q ny “a 4 J gay 2 re PEMA oe ete Sangh. Le anaes abet ; bie r bathe 5a fare . Bets } ih hy ik OBSERVATIONS ON THE METALLIC COMPOSITION FOR THE SPECULA OF REFLECTING TELESCOPES, AND THE MANNER OF CASTING THEM: Also a method of cémmunicating to them any particular conordal figure: with ‘an attempt to explain, on scientific principles, the grounds of each process: and occasional remarks on the construction of telescopes. BY THE REV. JAMES LITTLE. 2 8 809)<-190 com READ, FEB. 4th, 1805: THERE are but few things produced by the united effort of mechanical artifice and Saicllesival labour, which have done more, honour to the ingenuity and invention of man, than the reflecting telescope; which has many advantages over any of the dioptrical kind, notwithstanding their im- provement by achromatic glasses, It will bear a greater aperture, and may be made to magnify more, (as being more distinct,) in proportion to its length, than the others, as they are at present made; and its dimensions and powers are unlimited. What its excellence is, especially the New- - tonian construction of it, has been proved by Dr. Herschell, to his own honour, and that of the age, and country, and patronage, which encouraged his labours. Accordingly, the persons, eminent for science and mechanical ingenuity, ap- pear to have felt a peculiar and disinterested pleasure, in Q2 contributing . 120 contributing to its improvement: and the late discovery of a metallic composition for the mirrors of it, which will bear as high a polish as glass, reflect as much light as glass tran- smits, and endure almost equally well, without contracting tarnish, is a farther encouragement to prosecute its improve- ment to perfection. Among others, I had formerly, from admiration at its contrivance, bestowed some attention on the mechanism of this instrument: and, as it would have spared me some expence of time and trials, ,if any other person had _ pre- viously suggested to me the hints, which I am to re- late; I imagine they will be of use to others, in direct- ing or assisting the course of their labour, in the same pursuit. I had also taken some pains, to understand the merits of the different constructions of this telescope: but, as this enquiry ended in a conviction, that the Newto- nian form of it is the most perfect that can be hoped for; (it being the nature of its great author, to persevere in his researches, till he had arrived at a complete solution of his doubts, and comprehension of the subject;) so I have only to report what resulted from my experience in the mecha- ‘nical fabrication of it, as to the method of casting the mirrors, and communicating to them the proper figure. Before I had heard of the improvements of the Rev. Mr. Edwards, in the composition of the specula for telescopes, I had made many experiments myself with that view; which lead me to give full credit to his report of the superior excel- lence of that composition which he recommends: because I had 121 had. found, that the qualities of hardness, whiteness, and indisposition to contract tarnish, necessary to a speculum, could not, by any admixture that I could hit upon, be produced, unless the metal wereso highly saturated with tin;,as to be excessively brittle; and because I found that this brittleness, however inconvenient in some respects, was necessary to render it susceptible of the highest polish: for no metal yet known, except steel, (which, from its disposition to rust, is unfit for this purpose,) will take as high a polish as glass will, unless it be more brittle:than glass. And indeed this property is common to all substances which we know, that are capable of such polish: they must be very hard, and, as such, brittle; for) the polishing powder employed would stick and,bed,itself in any soft metal, instead. of cutting and polishing it...55 5 i . From the result»of my trials, I contented shisiictf with the composition mentioned hereafter, as being in every respect sufficient.for the purpose, and inferior to; none in whiteness, lustre, and, exemption, from tarnish: for, as to the addition of silver, I found that) when used even in a very small quan= tity, it had an extraordinary property of rendering the metal - so soft, that I was deterred from employing it: and unless it shall be found that, without this effect, it makes the metal less porous than otherwise it might. bes, oF, Jess frail a and _buit- tle, mY am, cer tain, ‘that, it, may, in every “other. respect,. ‘be dis- pensed, with, I had no opportunity, to!tny it, mthe precise sped My, Riders: recommends, (though'T Lidia’ $0 before, in very pearly that proportion,) 5 since I. fir st, ‘saw, his memoir ewok otidw at con ‘ 122 on. that subject. Sir Isaac Newton made trial of a: very small portion of it, and found the same effects from it as I experienced: but it is possible, that, if it were added in the just proportion discovered by Mr. Edwards, it would be an were and useful ingredient, in the come sition.* I must observe here, that’ a metal, not liable to contract tarnish from the air, is otherwise susceptible of it acciden- tally; when there happen to be minute holes in its surface, caused by the air, or sand, &c. in casting it. Such cavities will be filled with the dust, or rusty solution of the brass, in grinding; which will, in time, become a sort of vitriol, and. act on the contiguous parts of the speculum, producing a canker in it, which will spread, in form of a cloud ‘of tarnish, around each cavity. In such a case, to:prevent)this, [would advise, to lay the mirror, as soon as polished, in-warm water, and, after drying, while it remains heated, to rub it over with spirit-varnish; from which it may ‘be cleansed, by a piece of fine linen dipped in spirit of wine. The varnish will remain in the cavities; and, by defending the impurities in them from the action of the air, will probably preserve them from becoming corrosive to the metal. From * Having read somewhere, that zine Gnd gold made the best speculum-metal, I tried it; and found, that the ‘zinc ‘was sublimed from the gold in fusion, and arose to the top in the crucible, forming a white, hard, spongy mass, The metal, called tutanag, is fit for specula, when melted with tin; but Iam certain, that what I procured, under the name of tutanag, was a mixture of brass and copper, &c.; for the zine, in’ the brass, rose from it, during the fasion, in white flowers. 1123 | Fiom,.numerous .experimetts,. ofthe qualities. of ditfe- rent compositions; .made by. several’ persons,’ it ‘appears, that no combinations, of any other metals or semi-metals, are fit for specula, except those’ of copper, brass, tin, silver, and: arsenic. o& tried no: semi-metal, except the’ lat- ter, which whitens copper,!and unites intimately with it; because it is stated, in the treatise of the Art of Assay- ing, by the \observant»and accurate Cramer, that all the semi-metals rise in flowers, ‘during the fusion: which would certainly, make’ thé metal’ porous.°‘On this account, I would have) rejected «the \brass;') because. of the zinc con- tained in| it;but that it» seemed to render the compo- sition, whiter, ,and. Jess apt to tarnish, than it would be without, atiy It will haye littleotendeney to rise in flowers, if, the; speciliun-metal be fused) with ‘the lowest heat re- quusite;, and if the‘brass ‘be of the best kind; betause, in this, ithe; zinc: is more’ perfectly united ‘with the copper, ‘and both are purer. I used, for ‘this purpose, the brass of fpin-wire: and; because? the: quantity of it was only the \ one) ¢ighth part of the copper ‘employed, which, : I imagined; would) receive too’ fierce a heat, 'if put alone into the,,melted\copper; -Iofirst added’ to the ‘brass, im fusion, about an equal quantity of the tin, and put the mass eal} intoyithe meltedocopper; supplying afterward -the re- mainder, ofthe tinyiand! then ithe arsenic; the aut be» ing generally san! vthe! following oproportion? Viz. 82° parts best..-bar \igopper, previously. iddsed 0 with the black flux, of, two. parts, tartarjcand? one? of nitre; -4 parts’ brass, 162 9911 F189G parts 124 x parts tin, and 13 arsenic. suppose, with’ others, that, if the metal be granulated, by pouring it, when first melted, into water, and then fused a second time, it will be less porous than at first. In this process, whatever metals are used, and in what proportions soever, the chief object is, to hit on the exact point of saturation of the copper, &c. by the tin. For, if the latter be added in too. great quantity, the metal will be dull-coloured and soft; if too little, it will not attain the most perfect whiteness, and will certainly tar- ‘nish. It is too late to discover the imperfections of the metal, after the mirrors are cast and polished; and no tokens given of them (that I know) are sufficiently ' free from ambiguity. But I observed the following, which proved, in my trials, at first view, indubitable marks’ of the degree of, saturation; and I think it fit to describe them particularly, as they have not, to my knowledge, been noticed by others. When the metal was, melted, and before I poured it into the flask, I always took about the quantity of an ounce of it, with a small ladle, out of the crucible, and poured it on a cold flag; and observed the following appearances. First. If the metal assumed, in cooling, a lively blue, or purple colour, commonly intermixed with clouds, or shades of green or yellow; and if, when broken, the face of the fracture exhibited a silvery whiteness, as bright and glistening as quicksilver, without any ap- pearance 125 pearance of grain, or inequality of texture; then the de- gree of saturation of the metal, with the tin, was com- plete. and: perfect. Secondly. If the surface of the metal became of a -dun or mouse colour, and especially if of a brown or red; and,: when» broken, the fracture exhibited a more yellow, ‘or tawny hue, than that of quicksilver; then the quantity of tin in \the composition was deficient, and it was-necessary: to add more.* “Thirdly! If the colour was an vuniform dull, blue, like lead, and,’ where broken, discovered a dull colour, with a coarse grain, like facetts; the due saturation was ex- ceeded, and there: was a over ocanhinig of tin in the metal. ; ; These colours would .be more distinct, if a small quantity of the metal were cast in a flask, which had been previously, smoaked, by a candle, made of resin mixed with tallow; in which way I used-to prepare: the moulds. I attribute the formation of the colours ‘to this: that, «as the calx of every’ metal has its own peculiar, colour, so, the heat of the melted mass, calcining: some of the particles. on its surface,’ which are in contact. with. the air, ‘these! display’ the: colour of the calces of those: in- to womens 2: n Jojo lo yidusgredients, * This can mabye be done by degrees, and Thoat any ‘tredble, till the point of saturation is found; whereas, if too much tin were added at first, there would be a necessity for melting more copper separately, and repeating the whole process: and. different at of copper will require different proportions of tin; so that the due quantity can never be knowr, @ priori, but on trial only. 126 gtedients which prevail in the composition, Whence, it may be expected, that, if the copper is the redundant metal, the mass will exhibit a reddish tinge, which is ap- propriate to the calx of copper; and, if the tin be preva- lent, a blueish die ought to appear. Either of: these co- lours, therefore, appearing unmixed, shews the redundance ‘of that metal, to which each belongs. And, as brass, when cast alone, has always a yellow tinge, so, when these three colours are exhibited in a cloud-like mixture, they shew an equality and due proportion of, their re- spective metals in the composition. When too large a mass of the metal is cast together, its intense and lasting heat calcines the surface so deeply, as (when exposed to the air) to obscure the colours; so that a small quantity will best serve to exhibit them. wolo As to the method of casting the mirrors, it “has been directed, to leave the ingate, or superfluous part of the cast, so large, as to contain a quantity of metal, equal to that in the mirror itself; which would occasion a great waste of it, and render it not easy to cast, at once,, more than ‘one mirror in each mould; and even this might be done so injudiciously, as not to afford security against a miscarriage of the cast. But it will appear, that this great quantity of metal, and incommodious manner of casting it, are by no means necessary. However, a judg- ment cannot be formed, of what may be the safest and most eligible method for casting the mirrors, unless it be considered, what are the circumstances attending this operation, 127° operation, in the case of malleable metals; and how the management of speculum-metal, in this respect, must differ from that of them: since there must be peculiar difficulty in casting, in sand, a metal more brittle than glass. When any fused metal is poured into the flask, the external parts of it, -which are in contact with the mould, congeal and harden, sooner than the internal parts, and form a solid shell, filled with the rest of the metal, in a fluid state. This will, consequently, remain in a state of greater expansion, from its ‘heat, than the external crust; and its ‘particles will, in:the act of shrinking as it cools, recede from one another,*as being more easily separable, and cohere, on each side, with the particles already fixed and grown solid: iby which means a vacuum will be formed in the middle, and this will be gradually filled by the superincumbent metal, «which has been later poured in, and‘ remains longer ina: fluid state. ; But, when there is no more: metal supplied, the void, which was in this way latest formed, remains unfilled; and then the shell of the metdl, adjacent to thei vacuum, as yet remaining soft, and’ unablé:to bear the weight of the atmosphere, resting: on’ it;!sinks, and, is. pressed down into the va- cuum: by which means, .a pit. of cayity will be con- stantly and: necessarily formed in the face of the - cast, in that’ part’ of) iti which was last ‘congealed; which ca- vity will, commonly ‘be larger: or, smaller, in. proportion to the quantity of metal in the cast. © ' > The event: will, in’ this respect, be the same with | R 2 speculum- 128 speculum-metal, as it is, in the case of that which is tough and malleable: only that, as the former, in cooling, arrives sooner at its natural state of hardness and_brit- tleness, its external solid shell will not bend, but break, and fall into the void part under it; and thus) form cracks, or abrupt chasms, im: the places, where tougher metals would contract only regular depressions. And also, when the body of the cast is small, or the mould is so damp or cold, as to congeal, not only the surface, but the substance, of the cast too soon, and thus, prevent a gradual influx of: the fluid metal, 'to keep the central part as distended, as the exterior shell was, when it be- came fixed; the farther contraction of the interior parts of this brittle, refractory metal, after it has become solid, will be apt to form rents in it, because ‘its satbatoriog will not bear extension, without rupture. It would be an obvious remedy of the eee, incon- venience, ‘if there could be contrived a ‘reservoir of fluid ‘metal, to descend ‘into the interior part of the cast, and fill ‘up the’ voids made: in it) as fast, and as long, as it is forming ‘by ‘the contraction°of the ‘metal. Now, this is effected, by having a-jet or: appendage'-to’ the) cast, of such a size, form, and position, as will be effectual to re- tain the metal, ‘composing it, in a state of fluidity; .and also'to suffer it to descend into’ the interior of; the cast, ‘until all parts. of the same: become fixed; and incapable of receiving any farther. influx of metal.” For thus, all the im- perfections, that would otherwise be in the cast itself, will now 129 now exist only in the appendage to it, which is. a super- numerary part, to be afterwards separated from it. ‘This: appendage ought to be of the form of a prism, and as nearly that of a cube, as the operation of moulding it in the sand will permit; for, im this gross shape, the metal in it will be the longer cooling. It should be connected with that part of the mirror, which is uppermost in the flask, and joined to it by a neck, equal in thickness to the edge of the muror,, (but so posited, that the face of the mirror may: project a little above it,). and, in breadth, about twice the thickness..- This neck ought. to be as short as possible, i. e. just so as: to permit it to be nicked round with the edge of a file, in order to break off the prism from the mirror when: cast: for thus the heat of the large contiguous body of the prism: will keep the neck from congealing; which, if it happened, would stop the liquefied metal, in the prism, from running down into the mirror. And; to prevent this, the prism ought not to form directly a part of the main. jet or ingate, by which the metal is poured into: the flask; for so the jet would cool sooner than the large mass of the mirror, and: bear off the weight of the atmosphere, which ought to press on the fluid metal in the prism underneath, and force it down into the mirror, to fill up all vacuities im it. “Both the prism and the mirror, therefore, ought to be filled by a lateral channel, opening (from the principal ingate) into the top of the prism; which latter should be formed. broad: and flat, and not taper upward, like a pyramid, lest, by cooling where it grows narrow, it might form a solid arch, and 130 znd oppose the pressure of the atmosphere. When it is fashioned, as here directed, and made of a bulk equal to a third or fourth part of the mass of the mirror, or even a fifth or sixth part, when the mirrors are of large size, there will ever be found, in the top of the prism, after the metal is cast, a deep pit or cavity, which contained the metal, that had ran down into the mirror, after the outer shell of the mirror, and sides of the prism, had be- come solid and congealed; and the mirror itself will be found perfect, without any sinking or cavity; which could only be formed by an injudicious disposition of-the jet or appendage, permitting the metal in it to freeze sooner than the whole mass in the mirror, and thus stopping its de- scent into it. If several mirrors be ‘cast together, in the same flask, there must be such a separate appendage made to each of them. In this manner I have (without a failure in any) cast many mirrors of different sizes, and sometimes several of them together in one flask. But very small ones, such as the little murors for Gregorian telescopes, cannot be cast in this manner; for their masses being but small, they cool too quickly, to receive any additional infusion of metal; and their outer edges, suddenly forming a solid incompressible arch, the central parts, in contracting towards it on every side, separate, and are rent asunder. And this has happened, even when I cast them in brass moulds made red hot: on which account, I have been obliged to form them out of pieces of the metal, cast in long thin ingots or bars; which, by 131 by nicking them across with a file, could be easily broken into square pieces, whose corners could be taken off, and rounded in the same manner. I do not.repeat the other precautions to be observed in this process, which have been already so well and saga- ciously described by the Rev. Mr. Edwards: but the cir- cumstaaces above-mentioned, a prudent attention. to which is, in my opinion, essentially necessary to the success of it, are not to be collected from any directions published on the subject that are known to me. And though particular artists may, by large experience, arrive at a sufficient know- ledge in this matter, for their own practice; yet, to render that knowledge general, and to contribute, as far as I could, to the improvement of this instrument in any hands, being the design of this essay, I thought it necessary.to state the above particulars fully; though I doubt not that these, as well as other matters of moment in the operation, are known to many, who chuse not to make them public. ‘Fhus the great skill, in the construction of the telescope, acquired by Mr. Short, seems not to have been. transmitted to any successor. / , I come now to speak of the most difficult part of the mechanism of this instrument, that of communicating a proper figure to: the mirrors; on which depends. the powers of the telescope, when its dimensions are given: for the manner of polishing them, to the highest degree of lustre, has been already: well understood and. described. They who have tried this part of the work, and know how incon- ceivably 132 ceivably small is that incorrectness of form, which will produce grievous aberrations of the rays of light, will, I am sure, readily subscribe to the assertion, that ‘ hoc opus, ‘ hie labor est. Methods have indeed been proposed for accomplishing it; but not a single hint given, that I know, of the modus operandi, or the grounds of these methods: insomuch, that, when I first tried to polish mirrors,; I had no idea why any figure of them, different from that of a sphere, should result from the modes of polishing recom- mended. But, on my making the attempt, in the ways pro- posed by Mr. Mudge and by Mr. Edwards, I was surprised to find, that sometimes a spheroidal or other irregular figure, and sometimes (though rarely) a conoidal one, was produced by each: the cause of either being to me then unknown; and disappeintment or success appearing to. depend on mere accident, and not on the degree of pains and accuracy used in the process. At length I began to suspect, that these variations, in the event of the process, (which will be hereafter accounted for,) arose from some property, not adverted to, in the pitch that covered the polishing tool; which material has been generally used for this purpose, of communicating a proper figure, as well as a high polish, to the mirror, since it was first recommended by Sir Isaac Newton; being commonly spread on the polisher, to about the thickness of a crown- piece, and then covered with the polishing powder; (the manner of doing which I suppose the reader to be ac- quaimted with, as also with what has been made public on 133 on the subject, by Messrs. Hadley, Mudge, Edwards, &c.;) and I was confirmed in my suspicion, from the following reasons, after 1 had found them approved by many re- peated and diversified experiments. ' Pitch is a soft unelastic substance, which, as such, will suffer a permanent change of form, when it is.made to sustain a degree of pressure sufficient to communicate an intestine motion to its particles: and this property directs us to consider, what may be the effect of the pressure of the mirror on it, when spread on the polisher, as to the figure it may then gradually acquire, during the operation of polishing, and the resistance and friction it will oppose to the mirror: for, by reason of the tenacity of its sub- stance, it will resist a certam degree of pressure, without change of its form, but will yield to a greater pressure. But it is by its resistance the mirror is worn down and polished; if, therefore, that resistance be not uniform and ~ equal, on the whole surface of the polisher, neither will the abrasion of the mirror be equal in every part; the consequence of which must be, that both will degenerate from an uniform curvature, i.e. from a spherical figure; the mirror from unequal friction, and the polisher from its mobility, by which it will adapt itself to the successive alterations produced in the figure of the mirror; their mu- tual action. and. reaction inducing a change in both.* VOL. xX. Lp. Diol As * This change, however, being-so little, as to be imperceptible by the senses, and, inthe imagination, referable to! vatious other causes, it becomes necessary, in 134 As the pitch is (in our’present enquiry) to be considered as an homogeneous substance, we must suppose, that its resisting force, as wellras that of the pressure of the mirror on it, are uniformly diffused over the surface of; the po- lisher: \and, from hence, it may not, perhaps, be easy. to conceive, how the surface of the mirror could sustain from it any inequality of resistance and friction. In fact; these would be equal and uniform, in every part, if the pitch were’ a substance, ‘either of perfect hardness, or perfect fluidity: but it will: hereafter appear, that its consistence must not)be so-hard, as to render it incapable of any change of form; but, on the contrary, so soft, as to yield, in a small degree, to the pressure of the mirror: at the same time, opposing .a resistance, suflicient to wear down and polish it: ‘andthe enquiry:is, how that resistance is mo- difiedisvob mow r ont 4 24 Bodies in order to establish the true cause, not only to deduce its existence and effects solely from reasoning? off ‘physi¢al principles, but also to obviate other. different conjectures that might, be formed, sby stating fully those circumstances that take place in this operation; and which, indeed, are necessary to be clearly under- stood in judicious practice. Both these ends cannot be answered, in a disquisition new and intricate, without a minute explanation: and this, I Hane will be re- ' ceived as my apology, for the prolixity of this account, which I would jgladly haye curtailed, if I knew how to do so, without making it less intelligible or useful to the practical optician. This lass of readers will forgive any diffusive- ness on a mechanieal subject; ifthe! perusal may tend to spare them the greater labour of fruitless experiments; or afford any hint towards conducting them more judiciously: and as for their use this paper was designed, I have adv erted to such various Matters as I thought most worthy their attention; and which: yet have not been so fully and familiarly explained by others, as they ought to be, for the instruction of an artist. 135 Bodies of perfect hardness, such as glass, flints, &c. will not adinit a'total intimate change of their form, in all their dimensions, without a dissolution and permanent separation of all the particles composing their masses, (except when they are brought to a state of fusion by heat). But soft, viscid, semifluid bodies, such as lead, pitch, &c. will suffer such change, preserving the cohesion of their particles, yet, at the same time, undergoing a general intestine motion of all the particles among’ themselves: so that the coat of pitch, ‘pressed, on each»side, between the parallel surfaces of the mirror-and polisher, will, by their force, be equally extended laterally in every direction; by which an equal quantity of motion will’ be: communicated: to all its parti- cles: since no_ particles, except those at the extremities, can move, without protruding others, and these, the rest, successively,) as ‘if the mass were»a fluid body. i But, though all parts of the surface of the polisher receive an equal pressure and motion, all do not exert an equal degree of.resistance to that pressure: for those parts, ‘that cannot move without displacing and overcoming the resist+ ing tenacity of aigreater quantity of the surrounding mass of rity than other parts. do, must oppose the greater resistance to the mirror, as having that of the other parts superadded to their own. For/ascer taining this, the force impressed, and the quantity of pitch, confining any annular tract of the polisher, should be computed. In the present case, where the coat of pitch isa thin equal stratum, of circular form, we need regard only its superficial dimension, and consider s 2 all 136 all parts of it as alike situated in the above respect, which are equidistant from the center, or from the outer edge of the polisher. To this purpose, let the surface of the polisher, (supposed equal in size to the mirror,) be represented by the circle A B; and its area be conceived to be composed of an in- definite number of concentrical zones or annuli, a, b, c,d, &c. Each of these will sustain an uniform pressure, from the mirror, proportional to its area; because, the force impressed on the B mirror, and its attraction to the po- lisher, is equably diffused on it. The areas of these an- nuli, taken separately, are the differences of the two circles, whose peripheries inscribe and circumscribe each of them ; as the area of the annulus d (for instance) is the difference of the circles, whose radii are a d and ac; and they are, consequently, to each other, as the differences of the squares ‘of their diameters, or as those of their radii; and the series of them, a, b,c, d, e, &e. taken,:in order, from the center to the extremity, are strictly as a rank of figurate numbers proceeding from unity, viz. the odd numbers 1, 3, 5; 7, &c. But, since their breadth is supposed to be indefinitely small, they may be taken as proportional to their mean diameters or radii, i. e. as their distances from the center of the po- lisher; which distances will, therefore, represent the pressure ; on 137 on each annulus, and the quantity of motion communicated’ by that pressure; seeing it must be, as the number of par- ticles the annulus contains that are moved; i. e. as its area. But the resistance to the force impressed on any annulus, ~ being as the quantity of pitch to be put in motion by it,. will be different, not only as the annulus is nearer to, or: farther from, the margin of the polisher, but different, also, as this has either one margin only, or two, i. e. when the polisher is entirely coyered with pitch, or when: it has a space left uncoated at the middle; which latter always is, and must be the case, when the great mirror of the Gre- gorian telescope is to be polished, which has a perforation at its center. First. When there is no vacant space in the middle: the resistance to the several annuli will be as the circumambient spaces only; because, the pitch not being compressible, it is only into these, and not towards.the center, it can, m yielding to the force or weight of the muror, extend itself, by lateral motion: and the space, surrounding any annulus, is the difference between the circular area of the polisher, and that inscribed in the annulus; and is, relatively to the rest, measured by the. difference of the squares of their radii, viz. of the distances of the edge of the polisher, and that of the annulus, from the center. But since, in this case, the bodies (of pitch) are unelastic, there can be no augmentation of motion; nor can the quantity of motion and action communicated, and, consequently, the resistance to it, and reaction, exceed that which is mnpressed: on : ; which 138 which account, I imagine, that the resistance to'the several annuli is to be taken as proportional to the pressures they sustain, and measured by them, i. e. by their magnitudes or areas, or the number of particles in them, to which a motion is imparted; which were stated to be as their respective radii or distances from the center: and, consequently, I suppose the resistance to be the inverse of this, or as the distances of the annuli from the outer edge of the polisher; which distances measure the direct resistance, or the quantity of pitch, to which equal motion, with that in the respective annuli, is communicated. And from hence it follows, that, if a mirror, previously ground to a spherical figure, were to be polished on sucly a polisher as this: the resistance and friction of the pitch, being greatest, and increasing to a maximum at the cen- ter, and diminishing towards the extremity, would wear down and polish the mirror, most in the central part, and least towards its edges; thus giving to it a curvature, the reverse of a conoid, which it ought to have, and which it can never at first acquire correctly, by any other mode of polishing, but that of wearing it most down (and thus reducing its curvature), towards its extremities.* Secondly. When there is a hole made through the center of the polisher, or a void space left there, un- coated with pitch.+- In * Tt will be hereafter shewn, for what particular purpose, solely, such ‘a polisher may be employed. + There ought always to be a hole made through the polisher, to pre- vent the confinement of air or water, near the center of it. 159 efffIn: these circumstances, the pitch. will have liberty to expand itself (when yielding to the pressure of the mir- ror); towards the center, as well as the edges of the po- visher: and, as the resistance and friction, in any annu- ‘lar tract of it, is as the direct extent of pitch, bound- ing it) on either side,’ it follows, from what. has been Jjaid down, that it will encrease in any part, as the dis- tance of the same annulus encreases, from ‘each extre- anity of the coating of the polisher; and will be in a ratio compounded of the distances, from the interior and exterior margins! of the pitch. So that, if the breadth of the polisher between these margins were, (for example,) ‘5 inches: then the pressure and friction in, the middle ‘tract, equidistant: from the outer and innet edges, would be,, to that» prevailing at the distance of half an inch from either margin, as 64 to’ 24, (nearly as. three to. 1:) and, the same, at proportionate distances, in polishers of any other size; which unequal pressure could ‘never pro- duce, inthe! mirror, a regular curvature of any species ; and, in» the spacés nearer to the margins, the inequality of pressure would be. still greater. Whence may be con- ceived the impossibility of figuring mirrors correctly, on polishers disposed in this’ manner, without. some reme- dial contrivance; whether the face, or area of them, be of a circular shape, as directed by Mr. Mudge and others, or oval, as proposed by Mr. Edwards: for the nairror would, be ‘thus least reduced, and left of a_ spherical form, at the middle and edges; and be worn down, and hollowed. 140 hollowed into a different and irregular curvature, in the intermediate tract. For these inconveniences, however, arising from the un- equal friction ef the polisher, there are the following easy and adequate remedies; which will, in the sequel, be more fully explained, and applied as in practice, to effect the degree of curvature, or any correction of the same, which may be requisite. First. Since the curvature of the mirror ought to be gradually reduced towards its edges, which can only be effected by an increase of friction in the corresponding part of the polisher; and that this latter effect is to be produced in any part of it, by enlarging the surrounding coat of pitch: it follows, that, for this purpose, the breadth of the polisher must be enlarged above that of the mir- ror; and this in the same degree, as the curvature of the mirror is to be diminished: so, that the polisher is to be of greatest breadth, for a mirror of an hyperbolic, and least, for one of a spherical figure. This, however, is to be dene, under the limitations hereafter mentioned. Secondly. To preserve the regular gradation of cur- vature towards the middle of the mirror, the uncoated space, at the center of the polisher, should be contracted to a certain limit, which will be defined; though, for the reasons above-mentioned, it can never be filled up alto- gether. Thirdly. Where the resistance and friction of the pitch, in any tract on the face of the polisher, is com- puted 141 puted as above, or found in effect, to be too great; it may be lessened and regulated, in any degree, by cut- ting, out of that part of its surface, some of the pitch, at proper intervals, in narrow channels or furrows: the number and depth of which ought to be proportioned to their distance from the edges of the coat of pitch di- rectly, and to the reduction of curvature, proper to the corresponding parts of the mirror inversely, and should be in a ratio compounded of both; for, by these cavi- ties, the continuity of the pitch being dissolved, its re- sistance, depending thereon, may be modified at pleasure. In this manner may the polisher be so disposed, as to communicate a correct figure to large mirrors, and even to those of smallest size. Now, whatever success _may have attended the efforts of other persons, in commu- nicating a proper figure to the great speculum, (especially Mr. Short, whom I have manifold reasons for believing to have been among the most eminent opticians, as well as artists, that have laboured in the improvement of this instrument;) I have not heard, that any method has been proposed, of communicating, to the little mirror of the Gregorian telescope, any other than a spherical form, which yet may in this manner be done. And it must, in this telescope, be a thing most desirable to accomplish; especially when its size and aperture is so great, that it would be difficult to impress, on the extensive surface of its great mirror, (merely by the small alteration of figure, which could be produced, in the delicate opera- VOL. x, 7 tion 142° tion of polishing,) the degree of change, from its prior state of spherical curvature, which would be requisite; since the defect of form, in this mirror, may, in these cases, (as will be shewn,) be easily compensated, in the figuration of the little mirror. For the greater size of this latter, in such in- stances, will render it capable of more steady handling and motion, and more equal pressure; and so more manageable, and susceptible of a correct figure, in proportion as the en- creased magnitude of the great mirror renders it unmanage- _ able: which is, plainly, a great advantage, in the fabrication of this telescope; whose mirrors will thus, in the cases where it is most especially necessary and desirable, admit mutual correction and compensation for each other's defects. The principles, or physical causes, operative in this pro- cess, as above stated, seem to be incontrovertibly evident; and, as I am not aware of any paralogism admitted in the reasoning upon them, I must suppose, that a mode of ope- ration, conformable to these principles, is the thing chiefly requisite to ensure success. In this view, 1 have attempted to conduct the process; and, as the almost insuperable dif- ficulties attending it are felt, even by those whose inventive powers and resources ought to afford the highest hopes of accomplishing the object, and yet disappoint them in their attempts at high perfection ;* so I, among others, may be _ allowed * Sir Isaac Newton, who had himself laboured in this undertaking, of polishing the concave mirror of his own telescope, and with such talents for the work, and such success, as to discover that method of doing it, which has, to this i day, 143 allewed to state the difficulties, that, to my apprehension, occurred in the enterprize, and to obviate objections; as, from hence, there may be suggested some hints, to facilitate or abridge future labour to others, or to prevent hopeless trials. ; I must observe, then, that different effects must neces- sarily follow, from using, in the process of polishing, pitch of a softer or. harder consistence. If the pitch be of a TQ ' temper day, been followed, observes, (to use his own words,) that ‘ optic instruments ‘might be brought to any degree of perfection imaginable, provided a re- «< flecting substance could be found, which would polish as finely as glass, and reflect as much light as.glass transmits, and the art of communicating to it ‘© a parabolic figure be also attained. But there seemed (sazd he) very great difficulties, and I had almost thought them insuperable, when 1 farther con- sidered, that. every irregularity, in a reflecting superficies, makes the rays stray five or six times more out of their true course, than the like irregu- “ Jarities in a refracting one; so that a much greater curiosity would be here “* requisite, than in figuring glasses for refraction. .... &c. , “ But, having afterwards thought on a tender way of polishing, proper for “ metal, whereby, as I imagined, the figure would also be corrected to the last, « (i. e. the utmost,) I began to try what might be effected in this kind; and, “ by degrees, perfected an instrument .....&c..... and afterwards another « one.” rth IBV EN ; The tender way of polishing, which Sir Isaac Newton here mentions, was, (as he afterwards described it in his Optics,) to cover the polisher with pitch: and he declares, that he imagined the figure, as well as the polish, would, by means of this, be perfected. I cannot help thinking, that this extraordinary man, who was born to anticipate others in inyention, as well as discovery, had the same ideas as are here detailed, though he did not explain, nor, perhaps, succeed in, the application of them in practice: for he states, (in his Prin- cipia,) that a spherical mirror will reflect the oblique pencils, issuing from the extremities of the field of view, as truly as a parabolic one, and seems to despair of effecting a more correct figure. 144 temper quite hard and unyielding, no part of the surface of the mirror can be made to suffer a higher degree of fric- tion than the other parts of it, unless these latter parts be elevated and detached from the face of the polisher, and disengaged from contact with it; because, in this case, both mirror and polisher are supposed to preserve their general shape regular and unaltered: and, therefore, the contact, and, consequently, the friction, must be either complete and equal, on the whole surface, or none at all. For, if we suppose, that, by the wearing down of the mirror to- wards the extremities, it is made gradually to change its spherical form, the part of its area, so abraded and dimi- nished, cannot subside into a state of actual contact with the polisher, unless the other parts of it are elevated and disengaged: from the polisher, at the same time; or unless it may be imagined, that the particles, worn off the mirror by friction, are applied and adhere to the corresponding parts of the polisher, so as to raise and augment its surface, just as much as that of the mirror becomes depressed and reduced. If this, effect could be supposed to take place, it would follow, that, in every variety in the direction ‘of motion in the mirror, the friction must tend to wear down the edges, rather than the middle of the mirror; because the motive force. is always applied to a part of the handle to which the metal is fastened, raised more or less above the surfaces in contact. The effect of which must be, to communicate to the foremost or advancing half of the mirror’s surface, # pressure downward, on the face of the polisher, equal to 145 to the force expended in moving ‘the mirror forward; and thus to abrade and reduce the several parts of the mirror’s surface, preportionally to their respective distances from the center; by,\which its curvature will:be made to approach to that of a parabola, by its. wearmg down most towards the edges: and. this, whether’ ‘the: motion be conducted: in lines diametrically across the polshet,:or with round strokes ; so’ as that its center should describe, every time,. a little circle, about the center of the polisher. This is, however, entirely on the supposition, that the. edges of the polisher become raised, | by the adhesiom of the: dust: worm from those of thé mirror: for, if this were ‘not:the case, but that the polisher were to retain) its!spherical forni; while that of the miuror jwasaltered} the contact could. not: be general be- tween two surfaces of dissimilar shape. If these adhered together m. one ‘part, they miust:be disseyeted) in another; and the force, nécessary to separate them im this latter part, which ¢an never be greater than that required to move the mauror, forward, must yet: be more than equal to: the force of cohesion, in the past of the mirror, which, in each stroke, is to be disengaged fron the polisher. This pressure ‘is found, inthe case of bodies in contact, to.be incomparably greater than the weight of the atmosphere, which is equal to about seventeen or eighteen pounds on every square inch of the surface of the mirror: and, when this latter is brought so near that of the polisher, as to suffer friction from thé powder bedded in it, their mutual attraction will amount. te a much greater force than is requisite to move forward the 146 tle murror; no part of which! can, therefore, be diset- gaged from the polisher, nor,+ consequently, be unequally worn down, so as to produce, in its surface, a form dif- ferent from a spherical one, or from that of the polisher. This reasoning and ‘conclusion will equally stand, whe- ther it) be »supposed, that the force of ‘cohesion is con- fined to the very ‘surfaces in contact, or extends to a little distance from them, diminishing in the duplicate, or any other ratio-of that distance; and that the bodies are not wholly removed! out’ of the sphere of attraction, when there is a’*small interval) between them. For; as this force is greatest at the very surface; se, the bodies in contact cannotrbe disjoined at: all, to the smallest distance, but .by .a force seafesiors to the whole cohesive force. nsowt it may, perhays, ~“" poate that dio pressure of the atmosphere ought to be taken into consideration, and be added: to the force of cohesion, which “keeps the sur- faces in contact with each other. But this pressure acts as much upon the coat: or plate of water, which must be interposed between the surfaces of the mirror and polisher, as upon these surfaces themselves: and, because the pressure, upon any part of a confined fluid, is pro- pagated to the whole of it, in every direction; so, the weight ef the atmosphere, resting on the edges of this fluid plate, tends as much, by the interposition of the game, to buey up, and force asunder, the surfaces rest-_ mg on it, as it does to compress together these surfaces, by 147 by its action on themselves; and exerts itself equally to prevent. theix,,approach on one side, as their recession on the other. I conceive. the agency of these forces to be this: that the plate of water is, so. strongly attracted by the, surfaces. nearly, in contact, as. to. be kept from run- ning, off; and, jhas its outer edge exposed. to. the weight: of the air; whose pressure. is, thus communicated to all: the particles of the water, and, by its mediation, to the con-- tiguous, surfacesof the, mirror and polisher. » And, though all these are really,.compressed, together, iby; the surround: ing atmosphere, ;yet L conceive, that, this, does: not: hinder their gradual, separation.from being effected: because, as fast as. that.separation, takes. place on. any side, the air and. water rush, in, between. the surfaces, to: fill up« the vacuity,,as it,,is, formed; and. no farther; resistance: arises to their, disjunction, than what is owing to. the viscidity of the .fluid. interposed,..and to the force of. cohesion: which, latter acts, in this case,, quite different from any external, force of, compression; and, prevails, as I appre- hend,, to. a ..small distance, from the’ surface, diminishing in the ratio. of some, high. power: of that distance. x _ ‘ * Tf it were. supposed, that the force of cohesion is s confined to the: sure face of bodjes, and acts ‘only in the state ‘of actual contact; it would be ard to conceive, why a dropi‘of liquor should“ascend,, in ‘a conical glass- pipe, whose narrow end was elevated: since the drop ought, on this sup- position, to be attracted as much by the surface below, as by that above it; and its weight ought to make it. descend; and there would be nothing to make it spread evend the space of contact. which -it occupies: whereas, if the 148 . And hence I suppose, that the weight of the atmo- sphere is wholly inefficient, in keeping the mirror and polisher in mutual coherence, when any liquor of per- fect fluidity is between them; and that the force of co- hesion acts alone to this effect. Accordingly, it is found, that, when the polisher is so much wetted with water, that there is formed a continuous plate of this fluid be- tween it and the mirror, an additional force, sufficient to squeeze out the water interposed, becomes requisite to bring the surfaces. into actual contact,’ and to produce so much: friction between them, as will serve to wear down and polish the metal; which process will be found, in these circumstances, to advance very slowly and ire- gularly. And, on the ‘contrary, when ‘so little water is applied to the polisher, that it is only made damp, and scarce wetted, (i.’e. when there is not a continuous body of liquid interposed between it and the mirror,) then its contact with the metal will be so intimate and strong, that the latter will polish very quickly. For then their surfaces approach within the sphere of the attraction of cohesion: insomuch that, if all moisture were suffered to evaporate, the mirror and polisher would cohere so firmly, as not to permit any friction, or even a separation of their surfaces, and the polisher would be destroyed; for then the weight of the. atmosphere, also, would be superadded, the attraction extends, directly in right lines, to a distance from the sides of the pipe, the composition of their forces ought to make the drop ascend, and spread itself in its course, as it happens in fact. 149 superadded, when no fluid is interposed: all which shew that their cohesion, when a fluid does intervene, is not caused by the pressure of the atmosphere. Agreeably to this, the sagacious Newton directs,, that, toward the end of the. operation, no, more moisture should be applied to the. polisher, than a it will, con- tract, from, the operator’s breathing on it. Indeed, a per- son, who has formed a just conception of his genius and intense application of mind, and considered the hints and precepts. he has given in, this. work,. can hardly doubt, that he .could, , and, perhaps, would, have furnished a theory. of the rules and method of this whole. process; had he not, imagined it would, at that time, be re- garded as a matter of, too, little importance, to_ deserve so minute an explanation, which must be necessarily prolix, and seem unworthy, of him, who was occupied in amore. sublime speculations. _ From this it follows, that, when the pitch is of un- yielding hardness, it. will not, in any mode of. polishing, communicate to the mirror, the desired shape, if the dust, worn from, the. mirror, , does. not alter the shape of the polisher, , And, as this seems, not likely to happen, so I was not surprised, that my efforts, . to effect. the desired figuration of the mirror, by using very. hard and refrac- tory, pitch, failed of, success, And there is this inconvenience, moreover, in ‘the use of such pitch, viz. that it makes so great resistance to the sinking and bedding of the polishing powder in it, ¥OL. x. v that 150 that the particles of the’ powder, however fine it may be, will, on any fresh application of it, or when any grains of it are accidentally dislodged from the pitch, roll about loose on the polisher, and scratch the face of the mirror, so as to destroy the polish before given; thus making any fresh ‘application of the powder inadmissible, unless the pitch were to be softened by heating it, which would destroy its former figure, and render the opera- tion uncertain and tedious. It was to allow the polish- ing powder to fix itself, without rolling loose on the po- lisher, and to suffer all its particles, however different in size, to sink in it, so as to form an even surface, that Sir Isaac Newton, in his sagacity, employed a coat of pitch on the polisher, as a soft substance, that would yield to the’ powder, when impressed on it by the mirror, and not’ afford ‘stich’ resistance, as’ to make it fret the face of the metal; and also as a substance endued with another property equally necessary, that of being perfectly un- elastic. ‘For no elastic substance will ever communicate an exquisite ‘polish to a metallic specultim, though it would ‘to’ glass, crystal, or jewels; because no metal can be cast, ‘perfectly: free ‘from small pores: and any elastic substance, if employed to polish: it, would insinuate itself, together with ‘the ‘polishing powder, into ‘these pores; and’ wear down their edges in such a manner, ’as to convert every pore into 'a‘ long ‘furrow or cavity;' which“ would: occasion the destruction of the whole surface of the metal, as was truly observed by Sir Isaac Newton. And thus ‘it ap- a " pears, 151 pears, that, to make the pitch too hard and: refractéry, would be. to destroy every property in it; which» renders it» eligible «in this’ operation. If the positions, before stated, be well founded, it seems to follow, that the desired change in the mirror, from a spherical to a conoidal figure, can only. be effected, by a change in the shape of the. polisher, gradually accommo- dating itself to the alteration, produced in that of the mirror, during the process of polishing. “Nor, indeed, can it well, be. conceived, how the mirror, could .alter its sphe- vical form, if that of the polisher» remained ‘unaltered ; for a conoid could never, in the usual way, and without a ‘partial separation: of the, surfaces in contact, be polished on a segment of a sphere, nor even on that ‘of a conoid, if, during the. friction of their surfaces, the center, or ver- tex of the one, were to be moved. to any: considerable. dis- tance from ‘that of the other. So that the strokes; in _po~ lishing, must never ultimately be carried sO far, as to" Tes move the center of, the muror to..too great, a distance. from. that. of. the polisher; even though its surface: were so hard, as to ‘preserve its figure unaltered by’ ithe" “pressure of the mirror.* parma: rh ia “ageetbia * For the soya reasons, sai evisatnatiad lz am, aeabhed to, ae eng ‘will be very difficult to discover a method, different from, that ,here explained, of, communicating, at the same time, a perfect figure and: polish to a speculum. It is plain, that Newton could think of no better; though I imagine that, in this.instance, he tried his inyentive powers with those of Des Cartes, who, had published a method (in theory elegantly geometrical) of figuring optic glasses. 152 »Agreeable to these positions; I found, in my trials of polishing mirrors in the common way, by straight or round strokes of the mirror, on the polisher, that the operation i of rot fhe was f glasses. And I cannot dissent from those, who think this was the method employed by ~ Mr. Short, with such ‘success, in figuring the mirrors of his telescopes; I mean/a conduct in the ‘operation, sagaciously adapted to the properties of the pitchy coating ,of the polisher. It must be obvious to the reader, that none of the remarks or directions, contained in this ‘essay, cdn be meant to apply directly to the polishing any speculum, whose magnitude is too great, to admit of being moved on a po- lisher, of equal size with itself.. Where the ‘friction, and force of cohesion, of such large surfaces in contact, and the weight of the mirror, exceed the motive power that can be employed, a polisher, of less extent than the whole surface of thé mirror, must be applied, to traverse, in succession, the sevé- ral parts of;.it}, and. the pmotion must be given, not to: the mirror, but to the polisher. Instruments of far less enormous magnitude than Doctor Her- schell’s great telescope, are sui generis, and require particular methods of pohihiss' thé inirrot adapted ‘to their size. For such, no person should’ pre- sume tO propose) any method, which he has not approved in practice: though, as_ the general, ae here laid down, are, with due accommo- dation, ‘applicable to a polisher of any shape or extent of surface; it should sdent; that} if such g¥eat mirrors could be polished by a regular and uniform motion, their polishers) might be. made such segments or sectors, &c. of the area, of each, respective | mirror, and of such breadths in different parts; and the furrows, made in the coating of pitch thereon, of such number, prox- imity, and depth, as to afford, in the tract of the motion of each part, a degree)of pressure and friction, reciprocally proportional to the degree of curvature, proper to each concentric zone of the mirror’s surface; which would tend to produce the’ desired ‘figure, so far'as a’ polisher, covered with pitch, could be made instrumental: to this purpose. For, though the size and shape of the “polishe? were! to’remain unaltered, yet! its resistence and abrading power misht be considérably modified, by varying the number and depth of the furrows, made‘in the’piteh which covers it. And the effect of a process, thus conducted, will be commensurate to the time it is persisted in. © 153 was more easy and successful, when I used pitch of nearly the common consistence, than when I employed such as was made very hard, by long boiling: it, or by the addi- tion of much resin.. Such softer pitch will admit more than one application of the polishing powder, without scratching the metal, or spoiling its previous polish; by which means, the process will be more expeditious. It will instantly accommodate itself to the successive altera- tions in the form of the metal; as this, by wearing down towards its edges, gradually changes, from: a spherical,. to a conoidal shape: and it will promote this effect, by- opposing a greater resistance to. the metal, and greater fric- tion towards its extremities, when its previous disposition on the polisher las been judiciously provided, in the man- ner before explained. But, to fulfil these intentions: effectually, a. certain kind of motion, of the muror on the polisher, must be carefully- observed, during the operation: for, as. the softer pitch will continually yield, and sink under the pressure of the metal; so, the form of the polisher, degenerating in every stroke, must be recovered, and preserved correct. Ac- cording to the principles before laid) down, the face of the polisher must be considerably larger than. that of the metal, in order to afford a greater resistance to the spe- culum, towards its extremities: so that, as the metal co- vers only a part of the polisher, if the former were to’ be. confined in its motion, the pitch, sinking under it, would expand Aen 154 expand itself laterally, and become heaped up suddenly, around the tract of the mirror’s pressure; which must, therefore, to obviate this, be so conducted, as to traverse, in quick and regular succession, every part of the polisher, in order to recover the regularity of its figure as fast as it becomes vitiated. And this is effected in two ways: either by enlarged circular strokes of the metal, brought consider- ably beyond the edges of the polsher, in order to repress, towards the center, the pitch, which had become raised near its edges; or by strait diametral strokes, across its surface, in every direction, successively: either of which will tend to preserve the figure of the polisher, and, con- sequently, of the mirror, nearly spherical. As, however, a spherical figure’ is not that which is ultimately intended, so these modes of conducting the process are to be pur- sued only till the mirror has acquired a sufficient polish, and a figure nearly spherical: and then, in order to give it a parabolic or hyperbolic shape, the motion of the mir- ror, on the polisher, should be such, as that the center of it may describe a spiral line round the center of the polisher, by enlarging the circular strokes, till the edge of the mirror arrives at the edge of the polisher; and then contracting the motion gradually, till the mirror returns to the center, in the same spiral course. By which means, any sudden and irregular elevation of the pitch, beyond the place of the mirror, will be prevented; while, at the same time, it will become regularly elevated, from the center 155 center to the outer edge, in the: form of a conoid, an& thus, be adapted. for communicating the same figure to. the muror. I have been led: to adopt and practise this method of polishing mirrors, by, the train of reflections and reasoning herein described;,and with sufficient success; for its unre- served recommendation.. In one particular; it corresponds with the method. published by: Mr. Mudge, in: the: Philoso- phical Transactions, viz. in the direction of the motion used in polishing. the misror. But: this seems to -have been pre+ scribed by: him; without any respect’ to the properties: of mobility and inequality, of frietion, in- the pitchy coating of the polisher; which, things-he has not noticed. And yet, as any: sort! of motion, without: a- proper regard and adap- tation: to, the qualities of the pitch,. would be ineffectual, it is here attempted, to. supply that defect;. because no- method can be rightly pursued in practice, nor its success be uniform, nor any figure already: given-to: the mirror be altered, if those artists, who-would follow it, are ignorant of the principles and: agency on whiciy it is really. founded: For, ine every process- of so’ subtil and: delicate a nature, some. untoward. accidents and- circumstances must occur, which will grow above the control and» correction of any person; who isnot aware of the secret causes: from whence they arise:., In such cases; the practice will. be: as. imperfect. as the theory. is. It has been above explained, how: the middle» zone; or tract, of the polisher, equidistant from its inner’ and outer irl edge, 156 edge, when there is a void at the center, will oppose a greater degree of friction to the mirror, than the other parts of the polisher. And, to prevent the unequal wearing of the mirror, by the increased action of this zone, it will be pro- per, that, agreeable to the methods of prevention of this effect before-mentioned, there should be circular furrows indented in the pitch within this zone, more or fewer, ac- cording to the size of the mirror, and the designed degree of its curvature; in order that the pitch may subside into the furrows, and thus the resistance and friction in that tract be diminished. ‘This will be very easily accom- plished, by putting the polisher on the arbor of a lathe, and cutting out some of the pitch in circular grooves, with a small and sharp concaye turning chisel, wetted with water, in which some soap has been dissolved. And this may be performed and repeated, if necessary, without any injury to the surface of the polisher, if it be previously wetted, to prevent the splinters of the pitch from sticking to it; which may be washed off, by a soft brush or pencil, from the polisher, it being immersed in water. Since, in the Gregorian telescope, the defect of figure or curvature, from that of a conoid, in one of the mirrors, may be compensated by a contrary curvature in the other; and since, in either of the mirrors, whose breadth is given, the degree of variation in its figure, from that of a sphere, ought to be so much the greater, as its focus, or radius of curvature, is shorter; it will, on this account, be far more difficult, to effect a proper figure of the small mirror in this 157 this telescope, than of the large one; because the former must be a greater segment of the sphere, than the latter. For which reason, instead of making the one of an ellip- tic, and the other of a parabolic form, I imagine it would (with the exceptions before-mentioned) be more proper to rest content with a spherical form in the little mirror, (by which means, several of these latter, being fastened, with cement, beside each other, on the same handle, might be accurately and easily ground and polished together, on one - tool and polisher, made sufficiently large); and to employ the great efforts on the large mirror, in rendering it of an hyperbolic form; which is not at all more difficult than it is to make it parabolic: for, on account of the small extent of surface of the little mirror, it is very difficult to govern and regulate its motion and pressure, so as to communicate to it any certain figure, if polished by itself singly; as it must be, when it is to be of any other than a spherical form. Yet, even this may, by an intelligent and dexterous artist, be accomplished, to a considerable degree of perfection, in the manner above- mentioned, as I have repeatedly experienced; though the process is much more easy and certain, in figuring the large. mirror (under that limitation’ of its size before inti+ mated): for the greater the surface to be polished is, the less will any inequality of pressure, in the operation, alter the form of the mirror, or the polisher; such inequality, being a part only of the motive force employed; and the more extensive the surface is, the less proportion does ‘the VOL. X. x motive 158 motive force bear to the force of cohesion, which. tends. to preserve an uniformity of pressure in the mirror, and. of figure in the polisher. And I believe it is on this account, rather than that of preventing aberrations of the rays of light, from a supposed spherical shape of the mirrors, that telescopes of greater apertures and foci are more accurate; the larger surfaces of their mirrors having a tendency, dur- ing the operation of polishing, to preserve the regularity of their figure. For, let the aperture of a telescope be ever so large, with respect to the focus of the great mirror; yet, when the object is very remote, the central part of the field of view (the rays of light from which fall parallel to the axis,) ought to appear perfectly distinct, if the metals were wrought up to the correct figure of conoids: and the vulgar doctrine of aberrations, which relate only to spheres, is entirely inapplicable. The only standard, for the mea- sures of the apertures and foci, is the degree of ingenuity in the workman, who fabricates the instrument. ‘There are many defects in figure, beside a spherical form of the mir- rors; and it happens but too frequently, that a telescope is very indistinct, from a bad figure of them, though that figure is the nearest to a conoid of any regular curve: for this is often the case, when the central, the extreme, and the intermediate parts of the mirror, successively and se- parately exposed to receive the light from the object, ap- pear to have the same focus. And this mostly occurs, when the mirrors are small; certain tracts, or portions of their surface, being more worn down, by the grinding or polish- ing, 159 ing, than others, arising from the difficulty of preserving an uniform pressure during the operation, and, conse- quently, a regular figure of the polisher. Another method, different from that now described, of communicating to mirrors a parabolic form, has been dis- covered by the late Rev. Mr. Edwards,’and published in the Nautical Almanack, for the year 1787. He revom- mends, to make the edge of the ‘polisher the peri- phery of an ellipse; so that the face or area’ of it may not be round, but oval: the shortest diametér of the ellipse being equal to ‘that of the) mirror; and: its long- est diameter to be to the shortest, as 10 to’9. And’ he affirms, that a mirror, finished | on ‘such a’ polisher, will prove to be of a parabolic form; if the process be con- ducted, -by employing, throughout the’ 6peration, straight strokes of the mirror, diametrically across: the polisher, m every direction, Now, in the method: recommended by Mr. Mudge, whatever kind of ‘motion ‘be used, in bring- ing the face of the mirror toa polish; :the parabolic form is directed to be acquired, only bya’ circular! motion’ in polishing: Mr. Mudge having declared, that the effect of such straight strokes would be, to produce no other than @ correct spherical figure in the mirror: ” Here, then, ‘are opposite motions, and declared to be productive of con- trary effects, proposed by two very intelligent artists, witli aiwiew of promoting the same’ éffect;-' the only difference being «this, fhat, ‘in the one case, the face of the polisher i323) x 2 . 15 160 is supposed to be round, and in the other, oval: a dif- ference that a person may well imagine to be (as it really is) of very little importance; and he may be easily led to suspect, that the presumed effect of either mode is only imaginary; that a spherical figure of the mirror has been mistaken for a parabolical one; or that, if the latter has been produced, it may have been, not by me- thod, but by chance; and he may naturally distrust any rule or method advanced for this purpose. Thus, when different instructions are given, by different persons, with~ out any reasons or explanation assigned as the foundation of them, the whole rests on authority; authorities clash, and then the worst may be followed, or all be rejected; and, for want of a guide, an uncertain practice be adopt- ed. Itis for this reason, I have judged it necessary here; (as also in former essays, made public,) to be very mi- nute, in attempting to investigate the grounds of any method to be pursued, and the principles of action, in the operation of the instruments I am treating of. I have made a trial of the method of polishing, pro- posed by Mr. Edwards, with attention to all the circum- stances, which he directs to be observed; and, from the result, I have reason to believe, that his method is a good one, and will, if judiciously applied, produce as cor- rect a figure of the mirror, as, perhaps, any other, yet made public. But, whoever will attentively investigate the nature of the operation, will, I think, céase to won- der, 161 der, that modes of conducting: it, seemingly so dissimilar, tend to the’ same effect: and’ perceive, that the contra~ riety is not real, but merely apparent.* For, in either method, ‘it is not the direction of the motion ‘employed, ‘tor ‘the shape of ‘the'‘area of the’ po- hisher, © ‘whieh, in’ reality, ‘produces a ‘eonoidal form’ in the imirrors'' but ‘a gradial “alteration iti the ‘cutvatiire of the face of the polisher, by ‘the’ yielding of the pitch, under the piano us And, therefore; sesiip at ss of the’ area tendéd thar’: hat oe ‘the “mitror ; ‘the | ‘pity ‘moving late- rally, ‘will become’ elevated, and its curvature lessened, in that’ part. So that in 'a “polisher of -éval shape; whose conjugate | ‘diameter is ‘eqiial to that “of® thé’ mirror,’ the pitch” will ‘ascend and’ accuiiiulate, in the part, ‘which ‘Ties without’ the ¢itcular’ ‘area Of the‘ mirror, Sinséribed’ ‘in! the ellipse." "The - extreniities ‘of the: ‘tnirior! will) therefore} “Be: worn down, when ‘each ‘part of then is’ made’ im rotation, by it St 99eO18 (.02JOL. Vibe to. soon Bite re the: methods of figuring oh MIFXOFS,, published by. Mr, Mudge, and. by ‘Mr. Edwards, it is stated ‘by Mr, Mudge, that he, ‘frequently, during the process} applied ‘to the polisher‘ a concave tool, which he calls a bruiser 5 by which he tmst/have preserved,’ or ‘recovered; ithe figure of the polisher, and, consequently, of the mirror, that, otherwise must haye) become; jvitiated, by the unequal resistance of ‘the pitch ; and Mr., Edwards made furrows in the ‘coating of’ piteh, ‘on his polishers.’ It'is to these circumstances, and ‘not to’ the | direction/of ! the | motion! employed or \ the » élliptie’ atea’ of) the po- lisher, that, I can think, was owing the success,. attendant. -on, their methods > the bruiser being necessary, to supply the defect of furrows in the pitch; and the oval - fend not ‘esseritial) ‘When’ there were’ such, duly disposed, and. also: the polisher of proper size, &c, as here directed. ba lg nd AL deol 9 et 20QG 15 i UDWe . ‘kk 162 hy straight strokes across, the; jpakisher, qn. the transverse diameter of the, ellipse,,.to, traverse. that part of it, which circumscribes the circle; and, by such strokes,made_ twice, directly in, that, diameter, and. oftener, obliquely,,in .each rotation, af, the mirror, as the. operator moyes, round the polisher,, during the process,, the regular . shape, of the. po- lisher, is .preseryed. But it is.easy jto, conceive, that, the same effects would follow, though the polishing. werg, con- ducted, not .by. straight: strokes., across, ; but... ‘by. round strokes, dn. a )spival , direction, as above-mentioned. . And Iam doubtful, to which .of these motions. the, preference should .be,.given;..or, whether they ought net; to.,.be. in- terchangeably ysed, to .produce the mest, elaborate, form in) the, ,mirror;), as,,also,, whether this method, of _Mr, Ed- wards, is, better than, the former, .by Mr... Mudge, above described,.,\Hor,,I haye, been deprived,of Jeisuye; and, opr portunity,.(by the, wars, .and, public, troubles, during . the French jnyasion..and the rebellion; in which, most of my instruments, for such purposes, were lost, in the plunder and destruction of my house,) to prosecute the experi- ments, which iitight ‘hive enabled me to ‘speak with more. precision ; and which I would have done, , from the. de- swé.\d, had, to, contribute to the »perfection: of SO. meiale art instrttinent’ ‘as the reflecting telescope. é; Ai ‘know, that both’ methods will, in judicious practice, produce. the, desired.,effect;.-but. this.efiect will be limit- ed, im ‘degree’ f perfection, and’ sometimes | frustrated, when ‘the causes, and_ circumstances, that operate in it, Aetiicaeths si iniedog od) GIBB 163 are! unknowa. | Tn’ ‘either ahiettinds and ‘with’ al. polishét Of ‘Yound or val ‘ shape,’ at is ihdispensdbly’ *heeessaryy | that there ‘should’ be furrows’ tHade in'' the coating of pitch, (to allow it to subside, -in regula” oeridation, fot the middle tO the “edges;): Uby!t indentitis! i6! either ‘ih ‘squares, ‘as is ubtally donde) 6r‘ in éirctifar AMHNeS both whieh must be renewed, as they Becdme ‘fled tp and’ obliterated; which will dlways- happeti soonest! in the: middlé zohe or tract of the"polisher, ‘between “thetetiteY and ditter edge, whether the furrows Be ircilér oP Torigitudifal! ana? if this be not. doe, the regularity of curvature would not be preserved ain the, _murror, or, the _ polisher. But, since there is no ob- stacle. rg the subsidence ..of, the, pitch, near its outer dge, and its: inner-edge, when'theré isa'void' space at the cen- ter, ‘T'beliéve™ ‘the’ furrows OugHt ah Hot to be. made there, but in, the intermediate space aia ‘aod Lam of. opinion. tuat it is). from’ the judicious disposition of these furrows, ‘the most correct. shape * ‘of ‘the mitrot ‘is’ to be acquired ; whe- ther the polisher, be round or oyal,,,.or the pitch. hard. or soft: for I found, that, in Mr. Edwards’ ‘somethod, and with pitch, even as hard ‘as he recortinends, ‘the channels made in, it were, towards, the end. of, the’ operation,. nearly. ob- literated, im the middle zone of the polisher, But this will © not happen so’ ‘sdoti, ‘nor so’ dangerously, ‘with ‘hard as with soft. pitch; nor, ‘will, the, correction, ofthe impaired shape of the polisher beso: difficult, when it-is: of an oval, as when’ of a’ cireular’ atea: “there being, in the former case,, less of bregular surface ip it, to be xeduced; anda more 164 ‘more steady, uniform, and, simple motion, jin grinding, may be pursued; which, as it will, admit.of a/less degree of -expertness and sagacity in the artificer, will be more com- monly attended with eminent; success.* The consistence, of the; pitch,.is,, in this businenty an article of the first importance. _ Soft pitch will give to the polish a higher lustre, and,,will. less. expose the ‘face of the mirror to scratches: but, if it be too,soft, the mirror will sink in it, like a, seal, in. soft wax; and the figure of the polisher cannot; be preserved, nor the furrows in. it, hoy fd row stutevive to viroshircot from * T imagine, that a polisher, whose’ area is of-an oval form, would be better adapted to the formation ‘of.a parabolic, than ‘an’ hyperbolic curvature, in the speculum; and. that the latter,.will be miost correctly formed by a: polisher, whose area is nearly circular. For, in, order to make the speculum hyperbolic, the longest diameter of the oval polisher must be considerably greater than the bhortest: ote, ive.’ than’ the bieadth of the mirror; as will’ be evident, from a consideration of the circumstances I have endeavoured to explain. And, as the mirror must be carried, by the strokes in polishing, to the extreme verge of the polisher so, when it is to traverse it, in the direction of its longest diameter, it! will have its‘center or vertex removed too far from that of the polishey,, to acquire from it-a;true conoidal, figure,’ Either, therefore, the face of the polisher should be round; or, if it be oval, it ought to be ren- dered a less eccentric ellipse, by having its shortest diameter greater than that ofthe mirror, which will allow the’extént of the polisher to be reduced, by contracting proportionably its transverse diameter; i. e, it must be brought nearer’ to a circular figure. For the objection, mentioned by Mr. Edwards, to a round shape of the Spohsters when it is to. be considerably larger than the mirror, |viz. “ that it makes’the Jatter grind perpetually into a segment of a _— November .} 30,66 | 3d, E,tol.byN.—l.toN.B.| 29,45 | 10th, E. ...... Z 30,07 56, aor 45,740 21. And on 1 some hail, ....... 3,150780 4. W.—N. FE. i} | he | ——— ts = $e = L aoe | ~— ! if ; | ioe ‘ « 2 17. On 6 some snow fell, and oi r 6. SE 7 December .| 30,80 | 19th, E. toS. B.—E. by N, | 28,96 | 13th, S—W. by N. | 30,00 |} 50,5 | 31, | 39,535 leHiowers ch Huilieis 10) me ||) aaytisegen | loses.) Fs—W—— Wea by Ne MEAN OF ) 30.567 Fr ae F ant 23. Total THE YEAR f | 292957 29,397 30,060 49,916 |] 231. 30,033122 || 23. Total. — = ell : , y ORE) IR lemma oxic Fak. “ON Sg AND ) DURATION. - : } ‘) ) /BY, RICHARD ‘KIRWAN, ESQ. 1 i We Ere 85 E. RS. & PRT re TALK yy if0 bot: Oo THAT eS - p eGe gue Yons GHuy sides READ, MARCH “ip, 1805: Noruine - has ene more to. the growt th and ~ diffusion of that), general. scepticism, so prevalent in the last century, with,respect to. all questions. that cannot De decided by the immediate. testimony of the senses, as the inextricable difficulties that were supposed - to attend ‘the nature. of. objects most. familiar to, all. mankind, and un- ‘hesitantly. conceived to, he. thoroughly understood; for it -seemed, natural to, conclude, that if, upon examination, we find. an. exact | notion, ,eyen ,of. these, ; impossible to be at- _ tained, we ;have reason to suppose; that other objects, awith which. .we are not so well,.acquainted, ,are., placed beyond | the reach of. human faculties: thus argued , Bayle (Zenon), thus Hume reasoned. Now, certainly, no, objects are more. familiar to;us than.space and duration; and, in perplexing the notions of these,, they have exhausted . the whole force of their subtlety. If, on the contrary, .it can be shewn, that the notions of these are perfectly plain and intelligible, in the sense in which they are universally taken, and that the absurdities, that haye, occurred in ex- -plaining them, might easily be avoided, by only adhering VOL. X. Bb to 190 to their known signification, one stumbling-block, in me- taphysical inquiries, will be removed.* This, then, is the purport of the present paper. But moreover, to shew the necessity of investigating subjects, which seemingly require no discussion, the difficulties that occurred on considering them, with the different opinions they suggested, must previously be stated. . , The different systems of the Epicureans and Peripate- tics, gave the first occasion to the controversies concerning the nature of space. The Epicureans admitted a vacuum, or empty space, as one of their first principles. The Pe- ripatetics allowed, indeed, the possibility of a vacuum, but denied its existence. Des Cartes, in examining the ques- tion, denied even its possibility; asserting, that space ne- cessarily implies extension: but a mere nothing, or non- entity, such as a perfect vacuum, if it existed, must be allowed to be, can have no properties, and, consequently, cannot be extended; for it would be absurd to say, for instance, so many acres of nothing. His disciples farther insisted, that space must be either-a substance, or the modification of some substance, as, between these, nothing intermediate can be supposed to exist: but space is not a mode of any substance; therefore, it must, itself, be a sub- stance, and, consequently, can never be supposed empty. To * It is strange, that so eminent a metaphysician as Condillac should say, that we know nothing of the nature of space: or duration, Art de Penser, , Pp. 115, in 12mo. 19k - To evade \the force of sthis,.reasoning,, the Peripatetics: and Epicureans made’ different replies. The former said, that empty space 4s a mere capacity or possibility of re- ceiving bodies; and, ‘that. its extension: is only the possi- ble extension of such bodies as may be placed in it. But this answer was soon found to) be unsatisfactory; for the space, actually existing between two distant. bodies, would remain unaltered, even’ if all the intervening. bodies were annihilated. Moreover, the capacity of receiving bodies, - is merely the consequence of the. vacuity. of space, and not space itself. The) Epicureans, as Gassendi and Ber- nier, followed by. Le Clerc, supposed it: to be a peculiar kind of being, which possessed no. other property but ex-. tension. It was not, therefore, a spiritual substance, this not being exténded; nor; a, material being, as_ it. possessed no solidity, but a being sui generis.’ This opinion, appear- ing as untenable’ as the:foregoing, from whence it differed only by being’ more: uly explained ‘was embraced by no one else. ; ' David de Mideeye van, etainent: leit professor. at Nismes, sometime before the .year. 1660, and. possibly during) the life of Des Cartes,, struck with the. absurdity of supposing any thing real and eternal. besides God, ad- vanced. a very different opinion; as I find, bya, letter from: Bayle to La Coste, 4, Bayle, Ocuvres.Posth. 845. He maintained, that ‘space was nothing else jthan the Divine immensity. 'Lhis opinion was embraced, by Otto. Guericke, about ane as ‘Leibnitz thinks; and afterwards. by. the ,ce- lt ; Bb2 lebrated 192 lebrated Dr. Samuel Clarke. It appears m the first edi- tion of his Sermons, in 1706; and, more explicitly, in his several replies to Dr. Joseph Butler, in 1713, and his cor- respondence with the celebrated Leibnitz, m 1715, as I shall presently mention; and was, also, long before, ob- scurely hinted by many of the scholastics. In the mean time, that is about the year 1690, Leibnitz proposed a new system, namely, that of Monads, or simple substances absolutely unextended, but from whose disposition or or- der, with tespect to each other, the appearance of space resulted. A system, so ingenious and well connected, that, for many years, it met the approbation of the most di- stinguished philosophers in Germany, and the admiration of the rest of Europe. A few years after, Mr. Locke published his inestimable Essay on the Human Understanding; yet, his sentiments, concerning space, are confusedly and rather inconsistently stated. For, first, without giving any definition of space, he divides it into solid, and empty. He tells us, we ac- quire the idea of the first, when we conceive it so taken up, by a solid substance, as to exclude all other solid substances, and hinder two other bodies, moving towards each other in a straight line, from coming into contact with each other.—But, if we conceive two: bodies, at a distance, to approach each ‘other, without touching or dis- placing any solid thing, until their surfaces come to meet, we thus acquire the idea of space without solidity, or pure space. Lib. II. cap. iv. §. 2,:3. And (§. 5,) he adds, ‘* the 193 “ the extension of body being nothing , but the continuity “ of solid, separable, moyeable, _parts, “the extension of “© space is that of unsolid, , inseparable, and immoveable “ parts.”——Here he plainly asserts, that pure space is extended, yand consists of immoveable , and inseparable parts. In his 13% Seana he eres the idea AG space more accurately ; for he Says ‘it is the distance between any two bodies, or between the parts of the same body: that, if it be considered only / lengthioa YS without considering any thing else between, it is called distance ; Z “but, if considered in length, breadth, and thickness, it may be. called. capacity. The term ;extension is usually applied - to it, in what manner soever it is considered, §. 2 and 3.—But, in g. 4, he no ene considers ARH J as distance, but, tells us, Be shee each eye being a “term: san applied to pdr and not to salen: ; or peor He ‘told “Sek ‘that ae ae i no other be- ing but body and, spirit? and, if they again inquire, « whe- “ ther this space be a. substance, or an. raceident? che fairly 6, -tells them he does not know.” From’ ‘all, erick it is plain, he. considered simple pure, space as ‘something really existing, and distinct from distance. And, igt! oi accord rely %. B18 hie: ba hod, as M¢n Bay? Be ot & supposed | infinite,” which’: he’ ‘thinks deta will Sain, “he asks, whether, ‘if God’ placed a man at the extre- Ny mity of cor oreal, beings, he could not stretch hit ‘hand “ beyond his BE ass If ‘he could) then hé wotild® put’ his ‘arm where. there, was before Space without body.” And, chap. xvii. a ‘A, be’ adds, ‘ So. “far as body” reaches,” so far “NO ong, can, “doubt of extension ; ‘and, wlien Wwe are come tor the: utinost extremity of bodys, what is there ‘that ‘can % satisfy, the ‘mind, that it is’ at the end- of paée, when it perceives it is not?" and finally concludes, that a space is infinite.” “And, NS 20, he denies,” that the’ exist= ence ‘of matter is. Any, way are ‘to. wee existence of space., 5. eh ‘In 1713, Doctor 7 Bh first published his immortal work, ‘on the Princ} ples, of ‘Human Knowledge, in ‘the exvi §. of which. he asserts, that pure space is ‘nothing more than the possibility of motion, without the least re- sistance 5, and that, if all bodies were annihilated, there could be no motion, and, consequently, no “spice. And thus, he says, (§. exvii.) “ we free ourselves from that dan- ‘* gerous dilemma, to which several imagined themselves « reduced, to .wit, of thinking that real space is God; or “ else, that ‘there is oul cae besides God, eternal, un- “ created, infinite, indivisible, inimutablé; both which may “ justly be thought pernicious and absurd notions.” This opinion was afterwards adopted by Dr. Doddridge, im his Lectures, ‘O{f (195 « Lectures, p. 139; and. by Mr, frogsillan, Art, de Penser, - Chap. viii. ( t ated ve ee At the latter end me se same year, an anonymous cwriter, stiling himself a -Gentleman of Gloucestershire, but -thought,to be, Dr. Joseph Butler, represented, to. Dr, Clarke, some ‘difficulties, which; had occurred to, /hims, in, the, Doc- -tor’s excellent ;treatise, mtitled, a Demonstration of. the Being and Attributes of God;: for having there, asserted, that the “necessity, of the Supreme. Being must., have existed every - where, ‘as well as always, Dr. Butler. informed | jhim,, he, did “not, perceive any connexion, between ubiquity, and neces- _ sary existence. _ Dr. Clarke replied, that he considered space -as a mode, of the self-existing substance;: and, being evi- dently necessary itself, proyes that, the, substance, of which it is a property, must. also.,be. NeGessAarY Nay, he adds, »that extension is necessary \to; the, existence of .eyery be- ‘ing. In his third reply, he is still more explicit: for he asserts, that ‘all. other substamces are; i) space, and are penetrated by it; but, the self-existing substance. is not in _ space, nor penetrated, by. it;, but, is, itself,,as if it were, ' the. substratum,; of space;the grqund of the existence of space and duration. Dr, Butler, in, his, fouxth Letter, owns himself convinced ,of what he, cat first doubted, that a necessary, being must exist. seveny ayhere | and Dr. Clarke, in his answer.to that Letter... apprgache S| much nearer to ial truth, than .he had before’ done, though still far from ‘it: He says, “ the idea, of Space; as, an abstract or partial “ idea, of a certain quality or aan iae which. , we evi- J dently 196 “se QYentY sve to ‘BE ieeeskaiily existing; did, -yet,e(notbe- “ ing itself a substance,) necessarily pie eral és stance, without which it Could ok exist.?)! ol! Tn ‘his fifth ‘Letter, Dy. Butler ‘denies; ‘thati!space |ican “be supposed « a property ° ‘or thodification | of! the Divitie stibstahite! foe “ie that were afinibikited,-still the ideaocof space Nome pata! and owns himself ata loss to ide- fine “te ‘nature’ of ‘space. | To" whith’ Dr. Clarke’ replies, “that, ‘Since space’ ‘Wecessarily’ vemaitis, “even? after it “is ee ‘sip ésed tobe ‘téken away, “atid “is “tiot “itself a swb- “ee ‘stance,’ as ‘itis’ plain it“is ‘not, ‘then “the substance,°on at WHOSE existence it depends, will *nécéssarily” remain “also, «even ‘after it i8 ‘supposed to be taken aways’ which shews ? thie’ supposition “to ‘be ‘impossible aiid‘ contradictory.” Thus’ that correspondence ended. But,’ in ‘an ‘answer ‘to “another ’ Gentleman, Dr. Clarke. ‘asserts; that infinite space is infinite extension ; and, that to Suppose it finite, is an “express contradiction. And, that “they who remove the ‘idea of infinity, by supposing space to be nothing but’ aca relation’ between two bodies, are’ guilty of an absur- « dity, by supposing that which’is’ nothing to ‘have real quantities; for the space, betwixt ‘two bodies, is always “unalterably just what it was, and has ‘the same dimen- “ sions, quantity, and ‘figure, whether these, or any other © bodies, be there, or any‘ where else, or not ‘at all.”— “To set bounds to space, is to suppose it bounded by something, which, itself, takes up space; and that is a ~ contradiction. ao But 197 But,the Doctor! was eiigagedin a’ much “iore animated correspondence,,on ‘the! nature ‘of space, shortly after. It arose, on. the: following occasion.’ Leibnitz, irritated by the decision: ofothe:Royal Society of London, ‘in ‘favour of Newton, onl'the disputed question, whether he or Sir Isaac was the discoverer of.the differential or fluxionary cal- culus, criticized,; with much ‘asperity, some parts of Sir Isaac’s philosophy; and particularly, his’ sentiments on the nature of space. >This) censure he ‘conveyed,''in a letter to the Princess) Caroline of Wales; afterwards queen-consort of George, II., who» communiéated it to’ Dr. Clarke, and en- gaged him to answer. it.» His answershe transmitted to Leibnitz, and) became the medium) of the correspondence that.ensued, betwixt; these two) great metaphysicians. Of their. syoeessine answers sand a Bt pane give a brief extracts), ibnai yliook lena 3 sii, finite or infinite, is ‘afbel wteny indivi- sible, even in shontensie To imagine” its parts’: moved from each other; is to imagine’ them moved out of themselves ; and, sie is) nota mere point. © ; ) Leibnitz: Space cannot be a real; absolute being, other- wise»it should» be eternal and infinite! But, as it consists of parts, :it: isnot a thing that can belong to’ God. Space is somethiig merely relative, as ‘time is?/it*is the order of _ €0-existinig things;oas time is, of successive things. If space were an absolute ‘being, something would have happened, for; which :no sufficient reason can ‘be assigned: for space. is. absolutely uniform; and, without’ the things ‘ placed in’ (MOL. xX. Ge it, 198 it, one does not differ from another: ‘therefore there ean be no reason, why God should have placed bodies, in space, after one particular manner, and not otherwise. But, if space is nothing else, but that order or relation, and nothing at all without bodies, but the possibility of placing them; then, two states, to wit, that which now is, and another, supposed the reverse, would not at all differ from each other. Their difference: would only be found, in our chimerical, supposition of. the reality of space: but, in truth, one would be exactly the same as the other; they being absolutely indiscernible. (undistin- guishable), and consequently, leaving no room to inquire for the reason of the preference of one to the other. » Clarke... Undoubtedly, nothing happens without a suffi- eient reason, why it zs, rather than not; why thus, rather than otherwise: but, in things perfectly indifferent, mere will is that sufficient reason; as, in the present instance, why matter was created in one place, rather than in ano- ther; all places, being originally alike. And the case is the same, even though space were nothing real, ‘but’ only the mere order of bodies:,for it would still be indifferent, der a, b, c, or in, the order b, a, ¢; for different: spaces are, equally distinct, though perfectly alike. Besides, if space were nothing real, but the mere order of bodies, it would follow, that, if the earth, sun, and moon, had been placed where the remotest fixed stars now are, and: in the same order an distance, with regard to one another, as they 199 they, now’ are,) theywould then be in the same place too, as, they: are tiow;) which is an) evident: contradiction. ’! _ Space is not a being, an eternal and infinite being; but the property,' or consequence of a Being, eternal, and in- finite! Infinite: space is: immensity,’ but immensity is’ not God., ) Infinite space is one, absolutely and essentially in- divisible... To swppose it parted; is a contradiction in terms, as there must be space in the partition itself; which is to suppose it parted, andi not parted, at the same time. The ummensity, or: omnipresence of God, is no more a di- vision of his substance*into! parts; than his duration is a division of his existence»into parts: There is no difficulty here, but from the figurative! abuse of the word parts. If space were nothing but the order of co-existing things, it would. follow, that, if God' should move, ‘in a straight lines: the whole material! world, witli any degree of velocity soever;| yet) it would still continue im the same place, and nothing, would: receive a shock on. the'sudden stopping of the Ree ethene — is ‘a peed y which order and situaition are not. i 900 - To. argue, that, esau space’ syrronlgot) and one’ part does not. differ from: ‘another; therefore, bodies created in one place; if they: had been: created in‘ another, supposing them to keep the same situation, with regard to eaclr other,'would still’ bexin® pte sai onal tis! “before is’ a manifest contradictiom 9 0) 160 , Leibnitz. .'To ‘suppose two: things snidiseeraible, is to supEon the same thing, under two names; therefore; to ) a | cc2 . suppose 200 suppose that, the universe could have had, at first, another position, or place, than that which it actually had; and yet, that all the parts should have had the same situation among themselves, as that which they actually had; ‘such a supposition is an’ impossible fiction—If space be a property, it must be the property of some substance; but of what substance will bounded empty space be the property? ) If infinite space be immensity, finite space will be the opposite to immensity; it will be mensurability, or limited extension. Now, extension must be the affection of some- thing extended: but, if that space be empty, it will be an attribute without a subject; an extension, without any thing extended. . If space is an absolute reality, far from being a pro- perty opposed to substance, it will have a greater reality than substances themselves. God cannot destroy it, nor even change it. It will be immense, immutable, and eter- nal.—To say, that God can cause the whole universe to move forward, in a right line, or any other line, without making any other alteration in it, is a chimerical suppo- sition: for two states, indiscernible from each other, are the same state; and, consequently, it is a change without any change. Clirke. Two things, by being exactly alike, do not cease to be two: the parts of time are exactly alike, yet two instants are not the same instant, nor are they two names of the same instant. Extramundane 201 Extramundane space (if the world be finite) is not ima- ginary. Space, void of body, is the property of an incorporeal substance. It is not bounded. by bodies, but exists equally within. and without bodies. It is not enclosed between bodies; but bodies, existing in unbounded space, are them- selves only terminated by their own dimensions. Void ' space is not an attribute, without a subject; for God is certainly present, and possibly many other substances, which are not matter. Parts, in the-corporeal sense of the word, are separable: but infinite space, though it may, ‘by us, be partially apprehended, that is, may, in our ima- gination, be conceived, as composed of parts; yet these parts, {improperly so called,) being essentially indiscerp- tible and immoveable, are not partible, without an express contradiction in terms. If the world be finite, it is moveable by the power of God. Two places, though exactly alike, are not the same place: nor is the motion or rest of the universe the same state, any more than the motion or rest of a ship is the same state, because a man, shut up in the cabin, perceives it not; but, upon a sudden stop, it would have other real effects. Space is the place of all things, and of all ideas; as ini cha is the duration of all things, ‘a of all ideas. Letbnitz. The parts of time or place, eotaitieted in thet: selves, are ideal things, and therefore perfectly resemble one another, like two abstract units; but it is not so with two 202 two concrete units, or two real times, or two spaces. filled up, that is, truly actual. If space is the property of the substance which is in space, the same space will, sometimes, be the property of one body, and sometimes of another. If the author de- nies, that limited space is a property of limited things, he must also deny, that infinite space is a property of an infinite thing. Spaces are sometimes empty, and sometimes filled up; therefore, there will be, in the essence of God, parts sometimes empty, and sometimes full, and, consequently, liable to a perpetual change. God’s immensity makes him actually present. in all spa- ces; but, now, if God is in space, how can it be said, that space is. in God? We have often heard, that a pro- perty is in its subject; but never, that, a: subject, is in its property. The author departs from. the received sense. of words; maintaining, that space has no parts, because. its parts are not separable. But they may be assigned. in space, either by the bodies that.are in it, or by lines. and sur- faces, drawn and described. in. it. A man: in a ship may not. perceive its motion. The reality of motion does. not depend on its being observed ; but it does, on the possibility of its being observed. There can be no motion, where no change can. be observed. As to the objection, that space is a quantity, and that situation and order are not so; I answer, that order has its 203 ‘its quantity: there is distance, there is interval. ‘Relative things have their quantity, as well as absolute ones; for instance, ratios or proportions. Space is not the place of all things, for it is not the place of God; nor can I see, how it can be said to be the place of ideas, for ideas are in the mind. Clarke. It was affirmed, that the motion of the uni- verse would produce no change at all: yet no answer was given to the argument, that a sudden increase, or cessa- tion of the motion of the whole, wou'd give a seasible shock to all the parts. And no way is shewn, to avoid this absurd consequence, that the mobility of one body depends on the existence of other bodies. The space occupied by a body is not the extension of the body; but the extended body exists in that space. There is no such thing, in reality, as bounded space: we only imagine, or fix our attention, on what part we please. It dees not pass from subject to subject, but i+ always, inyariably, the immensity of one and the same immensum. God suffers no. change, by the variety and changeableness _ of things; as St. Paul says, Acts, xvii. 28. in him all things move, and have their being. : God does not exist in space, but his existence causes space. Space is not absolutely nothing; for of nothing there is no quantity, no dimensions, no properties. Nor is it a mere idea, for no idea of space can be framed, larger than finite. And yet, reason demonstrates, that it is a contradiction, that space should not to be actually infi- nite. 204 nite. Nor is it a bare relation of one thing to another, arising from their situation or order; because space is a quantity, which relations (such as situation and order) are not. . [" If it were true, that ratios and proportions were quan- tities, yet it would not follow, that situation and order, which are relations of a different kind, would be quan- tities also. But, secondly, proportions are not quantities, but the proportions of quantities. A proportion is not a greater or less quantity of comparison or relation, but the comparison of a greater or lesser quantity. Space. is the place of ideas, because it is the place of the sub- stances themselves, in whose understandings ideas exist. Death prevented Leibnitz from replying to these last pa- ragraphs; but the objections they contain were replied to, by Lewis Philip Thummigius, in 1722. I have not as yet been able to procure his annotations. ; ‘In England, this controversy was again revived, in 1731, by Dr. Law, late Bishop of Carlisle, in his notes on Archbishop King’s Essays on the Origin of Evil, who denied the reality of space; and was soon after answer- ed (as is supposed) by Dr. Gregory Sharpe, who support- ed Dr. Clarke’s opinion. This answer Dr. Law endea- voured to invalidate, in his notes to a second edition of King’s Essay; and to his objections, Sharpe again replied. The new combatants treated this subject in a manner somewhat different from the preceding. Of this I shall now give a summary view. Law. 205 Law. can form no other notion of space, than either, first; as the mere negation or absence of matter: or, se- condly; as the extension of body, abstractedly considered, as separate from any particular body.* ’ Of space, considered as the absence -or negation of matter, we may have a positive idea, as Mr. Locke has fully shewn, B. II. ec. viii. §. 4, 5. as well as of silence, darkness, and many other privations. But, to argue from such an idea, that space is something external, and has a real existence, is as little reasonable as to say, that, because we have an idea of darkness, different from that of light, therefore, darkness must be something positive, and has as real an existence as light has. To say, that space must have existence, because it has some properties, for instance, penetrability, or the capa- city of receiving bodies; seems to me the same, as [to say, that silence must be something, because it has the property of admitting sound. To attribute extension; or parts to space, according to the first notion given of it, would be the same, as to talk of the extension or parts of absence, or any other pri- vation. . Sharpe. To suppose that space is nothing but the ab- sence of matter, is absurd; for, if we suppose two walls Four: Int 1 pd ~ not * He adds a third mode of conceiving it, which is not, indeed; his own, but rather Cudworth’s; namely, that of a subject, or substratum of exten- sion, 7 abstracto. OF this, as too subtile, and scarcely intelligible, I shall” take no notice. 206 not to touch one another, there must necessarily be some- thing between them, otherwise there would be no dif- ference between touching and not touching. Whatever is indued with properties, must actually ex- ist. Now space has the property, or capacity, of receiv- ing all bodies. Darkness, abstractedly considered, has not the property of admitting light, nor silence that of ad- mitting sound; but darkness is rather that part of space that is free from light. Thus far the debate was intelligibly pote on, and some new matter advanced. The remainder consists chiefly of a repetition of the arguments, already adduced in the Leibnitzian correspondence, and therefore requires no far- ther notice. We may now state the true notion of space; which is so obvious, that it is surprizing it should have escaped the notice of these profound metaphysicians. Space is nothing more or less, than the relation of two, or more, distant bodies to each other, or of the distant parts of the same body to each other. All relations are merely mental, but the objects related are real. The foundation of this relation is the standard extension; or the number of such extensions, as inches, feet, miles, &c., as we find or conceive necessary, to reach from one body to the other. Thus, all that can, with truth, be affirmed of space, may clearly be conceived. Its primary notion is not the capacity of receiving bo- ’ dies; this is merely a consequence, inferred from distance: in 207 _ in any other point of view, this capacity is merely ficti- tious. Otherwise, before any body . was created, a capa- city for receiving bodies existed: that is, when nothing whatsoever existed: As well might it be said, that a ca- pacity of receiving spirits existed, before any spirit was created. From what principle this capacity is inferred, will presently be seen. The notion of distance ‘is originally acquired through the sense of feeling. By the repetition of tactile sensations, from one part of the body to another, we gain the notion of extension; which consists in nothing else, than in the number and continuity of tactile sensations, either per- ceived or conceived to be perceptible, betwixt two or more objects. The difference between the first and last of these sensations, is what is called distance. Neither the know- ledge ‘of distance, nor, consequently, that of extension, is originally gained by the sight, but gradually learned, by experience of the connexion betwixt distant objects, pre- viously known by tact and visual appearances, and the motion and feelings of the eye itself; as Dr. Berkley has clearly shewn, in his admirable Essay on Vision, and has been amply proved, by the subsequent experiments of Dr. Cheselden.* From this connexion it happens, that the different visible’ appearances, of near and distant bodies, constantly suggest the idea of extension, as subsisting be- pd2 tween * Some of the most perspicacious of the scholastics, much despised as they are, reasoned in the same manner. Mastrius Log. 329, 208 tween them, even when a perfect vacuum is supposed: but this suggestion not being, in that case, founded in reality, is a mere imagination. It is this imagination that so far imposed on Dr. Clarke and others, as to persuade them to think there is something, where, in fact,* there is nothing: an imagination which, arising from an early as- sociation, cannot be got rid of, as Clarke and his corres- pondent allowed; though, by an accurate investigation, it is proved to be a deception. When bodies are distant from each other, there is no- thing to prevent another body from being placed: between them, if none be already so placed. This denial of any ob- stacle is what is called capacity: it is nothing positive, but merely a, possibility, inferred from uncontinuous distance. Still, it will be said, that there is an interval between distant bodies, otherwise they could not be distant; and this interval may be measured, and therefore it is extend- ed, Now, this interval is, what is called space; and, con- sequently, space is something real and extended. To this argument, which comprehends every thing that can be said, in favour of the reality of space, I answer, that this interval is, in nothing real, different from. dis- tance: and this latter, indeed, is. measurable, by means of.a solid, line, reaching from one of the distant) bodies to the other, and consequently extended. To such. a: line measures may be applied: but, without conceiving such a line, the measures would be applied to nothing, which is an evident absurdity. Hence f 209 Hence we may infer, that, without two bodies at least, there can be no distance, nor, consequently, space. Still less can it’ be supposed to exist, when there are no bodies at all; and therefore, antemundane and extramun- dane’ spaces are merely imaginary. “If it be asked, where a single body would be placed, if no other body were created? I answer, no where, that ‘is, in no place; place being, as Mr. Locke justly observes, B. II. chap. xiii. §. 7, the relation of distance, betwixt two or more points, which are considered, as at rest. When, therefore, there are no such points, there is no place: and hence, as he remarks, ibid. §. 10, to say that the world is somewhere, means no tore, ie that it does exist, but not its location. T shall ‘now take a retrospective view of the opinions already mentioned; and observe how far they are just, and how far defective. SECTION II. Des Cartes, yielding to the suggestions of imagination, which we need not be surprized at, since it imposed on Newton, Clarke, and, at times, on Locke himself, assert- ed, that space necessarily implied extension. Now, exten- sion is ‘a mere abstraction, and, consequently, can have no real existence. The term extension means no more than ‘ extended things, taken ad libitum. Of these, like all other abstract 210 abstract terms, it.is a compendious expression. In_ this respect, Des Cartes and his followers reasoned more. conse- quentially than many succeeding philosophers: for he in- ferred an extended thing, namely, matter, to. exist where- ever space exists; and thence denied the possibility of, a vacuum. His opinion having been long since. satisfac- torily refuted, and now universally abandoned, requires no further notice. “sii Mr. Locke seems, at different times, to have entertain- ed different opinions of the nature of space; for, after clearly stating, B. II. chap. iv. §. 2, 3, and chap. xi,-that space is the distance between two bodies, or between the parts of the same body, if the body be considered length- ways, (and the same may be said of the parts of the breadth and the thickness, for their extremes also are dis-~ tant from each other,) he denies, chap. xvi. §. 20, that matter is any way necessary for the existence of space: and thus the notion of distance is completely abandoned. T'o this persuasion he was led, by the supposition, that, if a man were placed at the extremity of the material uni- verse, and stretched out his arm, his arm would still be in space. But this is an evident mistake: his arm would be in nothing, or surrounded by nothing; but different parts of his arm, being at a distance from his hody, would form a solid space. And hence Locke himself allows, that the world is, properly speaking, no where, as already men- tioned: though, in a sense, which he justly calls confused, he 211 he allows it may be said to be in the space which it takes up; which is thus improperly distinguished from its exten- sion, that is, the’ distance of its parts from each other. Almost all the assertions of Dr. Clarke originated in the” erroneous supposition, that space does exist, where, in re- ality, there is nothing at all. He supposed it to exist be- yond’ the bounds of the corporeal universe, where even ‘distance cannot exist. And this for no other reason, than that he conceived an extension, to which he could set no bounds: not recollecting, that this extension was a mere creature of imagination, being barely the idea of visual _ distance extended at pleasure; and, consequently, derived from a sense, through which the knowledge of extension and distance is acquired only by experienced connexions with the sensations of touch. Whereas it is certain, that aman, born blind, would never imagine space to exist, where there were no objects’ of touch betwixt which a di- stance might be found. He inferred the necessity of God’s existence every where; that is, in every place, when there was no place whatsoever: ‘and, even’ if there were places, neither God, nor any spiritual being, can have any proper location. God is omnipresent, by his power, ‘his knowledge, and his operation, and not by the fictitious attribute of immensity, which cannot -be distinguished from unlimited extension. ; Hence, he farther asserted, as I have already mentioned, that extension was necessary for every being. An opinion, as 2 212 as Dr. Priestley justly observes, at present rejected by the most consistent immaterialists.* How God can act where he is not, is as easily conceived, and as justly admissible, even if inconceivable, as that he knows contingent events that are to happen in times, with which he does not at present co-exist. As infinite. know- ledge is sufficient in the one case, infinite power is sufhi-. cient in the other. As all the subsequent assertions of Dr. Clarke proceed from the erroneous notions just mentioned, no farther notice need be taken of them. But, as some of his ar- guments, in favour of extramundane space, have an im- posing appearance, I must shew that they are destitute of any reasonable ground. First, he takes for granted, that if this world be not. infinite, it is moveable by the power of God: and, con- sequently, that there are two places; one from which, and the other towards which it may be moved. _ To this I make this short reply, that, if there were but one body in existence, there could be no motion: for there. * Disquisitions on Matter and Spirit, §.6. But he was deceived in con- ceiving this opinion to be entirely modern; for it was the opinion of Cle- mens Alexandrinus, 2 Strom. circa Medium; and John Damascené, De Fide, cap. xiv. who expressly says, God is no where; and Gregory of Nyssus, ad- versus Eunom. Lib. J. denies that angels, or any intelligent beings, bear any relation to space. Boetius Hebd. says, that incorporeal substances cannot be said to be in any place. The Thomists also hold, that angels cannot be said to be in any place but metaphorically. See Gonet, 342, folio. 213 there can be no motion, where there can be no direc- tion, either upwards or downwards, eastwards or westwards, &c. And as, in the supposed case, these, or any other direction, exist only in imagination, | there, and there only, motion can éxist! This even the scholastics perceived, of whom Dr. Clarke thought too contemptuously. Farther, he thinks it absurd to say, that space is abso- lutély nothing; for of nothing there is no quantity, di- mensions, or property: nor is it a mere idea; for no idea of space can be formed larger than finite, yet space must be infinite. Nor is it a relation of one thing to another, arising from ‘situation or order; for space is a quantity, which situation or order are not. tit These objections’ arise from the wrong notion he held of space: its primary notion is distance. ‘Distance implies an interval between the distant bodies; which interval, if filled up, is called solid space; and, if unoccupied, is called empty space: but this is nothing, real and physi- cal; and, consequently, can have no dimension, or any property, but in proportion to the distance of the bodies betwixt which it imtercedes, a capacity of receiving bo- dies, of certain dimensions, is inferred to exist; not as any thing physical, but as a mere possibility, and, like other relations, existing only in the mind; but whose* foun- dation (that is, the distant bodies) is physical and_ real. Distance is a relation susceptible of degrees, and, conse- quently, of quantity, though order and situation may not. VOL. X. Ee Grotius 214 Grotius probably understodd the text quoted from. St. Paul as well as any man; and was, certainly, an unpre- judiced judge in this case, as; he. was dead. many years before this controversy was started. He tells us, it is an Hebraism; in him; that is, through him, through God’s be- neficence we exist ::he bestows: life, and necessary motion, and is near us by his power. On Leibnitz’s opinion I need not animadvert: as far as it differs from the notion here given, it is satisfactorily refuted by Dr. Clarke; as may be seen in. the preceding pages. Dr. Law’s idea of space’ agrees in effeet with mine; yet I do not think it expressed with, sufficient accuracy, which seems to give his adversary some apparent advantage. OF OF DURATION, TIME, AND ETERNITY. ——~==eOSSES Duration is a word applied indiscriminately to the existence of created beings, and to that of the Supreme Being; but its signification, when applied to the former; is: widely different from that ' which it bears when applied to the latter. _When applied to the former, it essentially in- cludes'a relation to''succession: when applied to the latter, it essentially excludes any relation to succession. It cannot even be called permanent or continued existence, for, in such expressions, a relation to succession is implied, during which the existence is continued, repeated, or. unaltered: hence, no. definition common to both can be given. We must, therefore, separately mark what it ‘denotes in each case. ult , ey Duration, when applied: to created beings, ‘denotes co- existence with succession: I isay co-existence, because such» "beings are said to last or endure only by comparison with different parts of succession: a being, that» existed only. for one instant, that is, the minutest portion’ of succession, could not be said to have had any duration: Co-existence, with two instants at least, ‘is requisite. Hence Locke justly: observes, that we gain the idea (or rather notion) of dura- Bie Sociui tion, 489 94 en! 210 tion, by reflecting on the succession of our own thoughts; as during this succession we know that we exist. To call duration a continuation of existence, is giving a definition merely verbal; as this barely denotes the signi- fication of the word, and denotes the thing defined, only by implication. | ‘ But, as the succession of our thoughts is neither regu- lar nor constant, and must be unknown to others; a re- gular, uvinterrupted,| and uniformly» varied succession, (or at least, whose slight jrregularities are discoverable only at distant: periods,) has been’ universally adopted as the standard, by comparison with whose component parts, the diration’ or co-existence of all other created beings is determined and measured. .It-is: this succession, or co-existence with it, or some of its: periods, that forms what is called time; for it is some- times |taken: for the mere succession, and sometimes for co-existence with it, or with some of its periods. ‘The standard-of succession which most nations have adopt- ed, as a measure of the duration of every thing else, 1s the» apparent annual, and diurnal, progression of the sun, or the different phases of the moon, or both. ‘Thus, years, months, and days are obtained. The minuter portions, as hours, minutes, seconds, and thirds, are discovered, by the help of various machines well known. That time consists of parts, ultimately indivisible, is briefly and ‘clearly demonstrated, by Mr. Hume.* “ It ' * is * Treatise on Human Nature, Vol. I. p. 61. Q17 “is a property inseparable» from: time, and which, ina « manner, constitutes its essence, that each of its parts «ssncceeds another; and that none of them, however con- “ tiguous, can ever be eo-existent. For the same reason «“ that 1737. cannot concur with the present year, 1738, “ every moment must’ be distinct from, and posterior oF “ antecedent to, another. It is certain, then, that time, as it exists, must be composed of indivisible moments: s for if, in time, we could never arrive at an end of “ division, and if each moment, as it succeeds another, « were not perfectly single and ‘indivisible, there would « be an infinite ‘number of co-existing moments; which, «-[ believe, will be allowed to be an arrant contradic- « tion.’ This last point he proves from Malezieu. “ Ex- « 4stence, it is evident, belongs only to unity, and is ap- «plicable to number, only on account of the units it « contains. ‘Pwenty men may be said to exist, but it is “ only because one, two, three, &c. exist; and, if you « deny ‘the existence of the latter, that of the former falls “of course. - It is, therefore, absurd, to suppose any num-~ “© per to exist, and yet deny the existence of units.” But how far this’division may extend, cannot be perfectly as- eertained. It is certain, it can be carried far beyond our ideas of it; and that, by our auricular perceptions, it may be carried much farther, than by our ocular per- ceptions. Thus, by the experiments of Chevalier D’Arcy,* it ap- pears, that five or six distinct sensations, of a luminous ' body, * Mem. Par. 1765. 218 ody wheeled about, may be had in one second. But, if the velocity of the rotation, and, consequently, the num- ber of sensations, be increased, they cease to be distinct, and a continued luminous circle is formed: but, if an opaque coloured body be thus whirled about, ,a few more distinct) sensations may be discerned. Of auricular sen- sations a far greater number may be distinguished: | for our celebrated astronomer, Mr. Herschel, has discovered, that upwards of 160 of them may be discerned in a se- cond of time, before they become confused and undistin- guishable.* In general, where the greatest attention is not bestowed on the succession, particularly on that of visual sensations, the memory of those immediately past is so vigorous and lively, that many of them are confounded with, and appear belonging to, the present time, taken in the strictest sense. It ison this circumstance - that many of the impositions of jugglers are founded. The apparent length of time depends wholly on the at- tention paid to its succession; it appears short, to those whose attention is firmly fixed on one object. For, atten- tion to succession, in such case, is, as much as_ possible, excluded. It appears still shorter, to those who sleep without dreaming or interruption; as they are not con- scious of any succession, and ‘judge of the length » of time, occupied by sleep, only by the sensations usually associated with rest, and the changes resulting from succcession. * See Mr. Watson’s Treatise on Time, p. 32. 219 ¥ succession, So also, the duration of an agreeable state of mind. appears short, even though it should. co-exist with many successive perceptions; because, the pleasure arising from them, and not their mere succession, is. that which chiefly occupies. the attention. On the other hand, when the attention is not attracted to any particular perception, but wanders, with indifference or disgust, from each of the ideas that present themselves, their number is increased; and as the mind. flies rapidly from one to another, their number being thus increased, the time appears longer. . For a similar, but a. much stronger reason, when we are in a painful state, its apparent duration, is. much longer than the real;., its termination, being every instant coveted, the succession of these instants is strictly at- tended to. . ; A learned and profound metaphysician. endeavoured to prove, that, strictly speaking, there is no such thing as present time. The question; however, is merely verbal: Undoubtedly, the present, taken in the strictest sense, de- notes an indivisible instant, which can neither be called time nor duration: but it is on a perceptible aggregate of such instants, of which the memory is as vigorous, or nearly so, as the sensation corresponding with a single in- stant, that we bestow the name of present time, in the usual sense. Another lively, amusing, but eccentric writer,. taking it for granted, that time consists only in the. succession. of our 220* our ideas and actions, asserts, that “ however these may “ be accelerated or retarded, time will be just the same, “ that is, neither shorter nor longer, provided the same *“ ideas and actions succeed one another: as far, I mean, “ as it relates to beings so thinking and acting. For in- “ stance; were the earth, and all the celestial bodies, to “ perform the same revolutions in one day, which they “* now perform in a whole year; and were all the ideas, “ actions, and lives of mankind, hastened on in the same proportion; the period of our lives would not be in the least shortened, but that day would be exactly equal “to the present year. If, in the space of seventy or eighty of these days, a man was born, educated, and “ orown up, had seen his children come to maturity, &c. “ and, during this period, had all his ideas and actions, «all his enjoyments and sufferings, accelerated in the same “* proportion, he would not only seem to himself, and to ** all who lived in the same state with him, and measured “time by the same standard, to have lived as long, but actually, and in fact, would have lived as long as one who resides on this globe as great a number of our present years.”—Is not this to say, that, actually, and - in fact, seventy or eighty of our days are equal to seventy or eighty of our years? It is plain, that, even if the hy- pothesis were possible, it is only in appearance that an equality could subsist between them. But the hypothesis itself is greunded on no analogy whatsoever; to deduce any consequences from it, 1s, therefore, an idle attempt. Judging 221° Judging ‘from experience, !we find, that :violent pain, or anxiety, and not: the: mere: nuniber of succeeding ideas, apparently lengthens: oun notion: of duration, or makes, us think time longer tham’ it; really is: The number’ of ideas, that occupy our imagination;« in reading an agreeable book, nay, the number of letters of which each line of. it consists; and: which !musti successively be perceived, must be very considerable; and. aie the mois seems short — we read: it.* oninaiesd) dyorlti -OMibDAS 4 houtiw vei Jonaiso % (dite1o#9 \BYERNILY:, Sbindimosn ort leren ronor ali 10} Bemrations. cine. that, of» the: inate Being. is: meant, denotes existence) exempt: from any:.commencement or ter- mination.’ This’ mode. of) existerice. ix whati is commonly called eternal. It is incomprehensible and: inconceivable,’ but: implies no) contradiction; for the notion of existence, and, that; of absence. of commencement, ‘and. termination,. are so far from. bemg, contradictory: to..each other, that) a Being, so-circumstanced, has beer demonstrated. to emist}—* Tite is) intelligible, thoughoimperfectly, 1) 00005: > > By this: definitiom\it appears, that? succession is ‘essen-) tially; excluded from the notion of\eternity; for succession necessarily: — a heginning; as will pyesently he seen. VOL. X. Ff And, * Whoever wishes: for a) more ample ‘account iof: Tine: will!iteceive abun- dant satisfaction, on perusing: the: profound, and :yet perspicuous: treatise: of Dr. Watson, Jun. on Fime, published: by Johnson; i IW V78Sie : 222 And, yet, eternity cannot be said .to be a, perpetual instant, as some thave called» it; ‘for that is an express contradic- tion, and even more) glaringly: contradictory, than ‘the: punctum stans of some scholastics; for instant denotes ‘the ! minutest portion of: time or —o om Later the! greatest duration. 9) 5 df cri &t dood - Hence, we may learn dies true: import of: some vusual ex pressions. ( From all eternity; that is, without beginning. To all eternity; that is, without ever ending. ; Hence, also, we may collect, that eternity cannot be called a quantity; for its notion implies no magnitude whatsoever, but barely existence unlimited; and, therefore, cannot be said to be infinitey;nor even equivalent to an infinite succession; fori such: a succession is impossible; and purely chimerical.. © 6 dieuo | out 2 The notion of eternity is positive,’ Feat not iventtl nega~ tive, as Locke supposes; ‘though -it includes a double ne- gation. For notions, that are commonly called negative,* or privative, are those which directly import the non-ex- istence or absence of something: positive; as darkness does that of light, sélence that of sound, ‘death the cessation of life, &c.: whereas eternity directly imports ‘existence; and, indirectly, the absence of epetiinne, positive, namely, a beginning ; * I have substituted thé term notions for that of zdeas,y which Locke has employed too generally. The word idea should never be used to denote any thing, but representations of objects perceived by sense. 223 =, beginning ; andy also, ‘of something ‘negative, rameély, a ter- mination: “or, ‘in other words, existence, unorigmated ‘and interminable! It cannot be even called continued exist- énce: for contituance implies a’ beginning, ‘an existence begun, and thenceforward prolonged. era ~The ‘Supreme! Being, ‘to whom ‘alone the notion of ‘eter- nity is” applicable, bavitle ‘bestowed existence ‘on other be- ings; on comparing thé Conimencement’ of’ these,’ with the existencé’ of’ that(Being? from whose will and power they originated,’ the rabeibnw of thé priority: of the latter,* and the postériority ‘of the former; necessarily arise. Now, pri- ority and posteriority: coiistitute” succession : ‘but this suc- cession is not that of ‘timé'for,: in? this; “the! prior parts of the succession: instantaneously beéonie | past ; “whereas,” ih the ‘former, | the: prior. ‘existence is ‘constant ‘and’ unaltered. The’ interval’ betwixt: both is: ‘unmeasurable; as we have! no standard, nor indeed ‘is any possible, which can be. applied to it. ‘Thus,! we! cannot say, that the? existence of God preceded’ that’ of any created | being, a’ million of yeats, ‘or only’ a single: instant; as the uantity of the interval, or distance, is” necessarily’ unkrioWb.” fod Sail¥ t91hs 0 Hence}! the’ ‘question, whether: God ‘could not have cre- ated: the universe sooner,’ implies” ‘an absurdity: for the WOFd S00 exptEsses a! Gomnparison ‘of times: Whereas tome began only on the creation of succession:"?’ oT -Teply''to® “sottie? ‘Captions: questions)” it" should” ‘bé | ob- served, that) sifice the’ “creation, the duration of God ‘¢o- exists’ With® succession! “Hehee, ’ ‘thowsh 7 caimot be Said, sal Ff that 4 924 that the duration of God has.now subsisted; longer, than it has done, at any other period, subsequent to the creation; yet, it may be said, that its co-existence, with created beings, is now longer than it was at any period ibtors 3 the present. 7 The only important. point, that, now, remains to be con- sideted is, whether any created..bemg could have been eternal; as some imagine the universe, or at least some part of it, to have been? To,me. it appears sufficiently clear, that creation,.and eternity, exclude each other. Cre- ation implies, at least, an instant, in, which. the created being did not. exist; otherwise .existence could mot have been bestowed upon it: it must, therefore, have had a beginning; whereas . eternity excludes a beginning. Tn answer to this, it has been said, that,.if the sun were eternal, its light would also be eternal, though produced by it. But it is easy to see, that, if the sun were eternal, its light would indeed be eternal;.because the sun is es- sentially lucid; for, without light it, would not be a sun, But it does not follow, that the light was produced by) it, but rather that both were co-existent; the.one being \it- cluded in the notion of the other. This cannot be said: of the notion of the Supreme Being, and any creature; for he may well be conceived toy exist, without creating any being whatsoever. ,, ; Another much more plausible objection is made by the scholastics. ‘The existence of the world, say they, is eter- nally possible; and the Divine Omnipotence is also eternal: all 225 all which is true. But their inference, that the effect, re. sulting from an eternally omnipotent cause, could also be eternal, is inadmissible; as causation essentially requires priority of existence: without priority it could not be un- derstood; it would be. perfectly unintelligible—And the reply they make to this exactly confirms it; for they say, that priority of nature is sufficient. Now, what else is _priority of nature, -but that priority, which the nature or notion of causation essentially implies, namely, that of ~ existence? Any other feigned priority is unintelligible— Their further assertion, that, according to this statement, an infinite succession of ages must have been possible, before the creation of any being, is perfectly chimerical: not only. ‘because the interval betwixt the creation, and the pre-existence of the Creator; is unknown, as already said; but, also, because an infinite succession is impos- sible, even in the divine ideas; a commencement being essential to succession, as I shall now demonstrate. Mr. Locke says, we derive the idea of eternity from these of succession, and duration, by adding the periods of duration as often as we please; and thus suppose it a duration, exceeding as many such periods as we can reckon,* without ever coming to an end. Now, it seems to me very clear, that this is rather a fruitless attempt to.gain an idea, or rather notion of eternity, than an actual acquisition of that notion: for, after all these at- tempts, * B. Il. c, xiv. §..28,.81, $2..and ici xvi. §.°8. 226 tempts, we are as far from gaining it as we were at first; as he himself acknowledges. Hence, he thinks, that “ if ** we cannot separate succession from any duration what- ‘“* soever, our idea of eternity can be nothing but that of * infinite succession of the moments of duration, wherein ‘“‘ any thing does exist.”* a, ; The notion, however, of an actual infinite succession of moments, implies an evident absurdity: for such a succes- sion should consist of as many years, nay millions and centillions of years, as ‘it should of moments; and thus the whole, and the parts composing the whole, would be equal. If we suppose an infinite number of years, as- suredly the number of moments, of which ‘those years consist, must be still greater, and exceed infinity; which is absurd. Thus, if an infinite succession of moments had passed before the creation of the world, must it not be - increased by the number of them that have elapsed. be- twixt that time and the present? And, as to the eternity of our world, let it be. consi- dered, that motion, namely, ‘a successive progression round a common center, is necessarily attributable to those pla- nets, which form what we call the world: and that our globe, in particular, includes numberless beings,’ that exist in endless succéssion to! each other. Now, an unoriginated or eternal succession, implies. an absurdity, as* has been just shewn; and may be farther demonstrated thus. From * Chap. xvii. §. 16. 227 From the motion of the earth, for instance, round its axis, and round the sun, the succession of days, nights, and years, originates. Now, the days necessarily precede the years: therefore, the years must have had a begin- ning, and could not, therefore, have been eternal. In like manner, the days must have preceded the nights, or the nights the days: one or other of them must, therefore, have had a beginning. Moreover, no portion of time can be said to be past, that was not once present, and ante- cedently future: therefore, the whole infinite ‘collection must be supposed to have contained an infinite number of ‘days and years past, and the same infinite number of days and years future; which is a contradiction so palpa- ble, that Doctor Gregory Sharpe* found no other way of avoiding it, than by asserting, that there is a time, now actually past, that never was present; which is equiva- lent to saying, that a time has existed, which never was in existence. The opinion of some scholastics, that eternity is a punc- tum stans, or a permanent moment, being utterly unintel- ligible, is, I believe, at present, generally abandoned. * See his Defence of Dr. Clarke’s Discourse on the Attributes, &c. p. 27. AN EXPERIMENTAL ENQUIRY INTO THE NATURE OF GRAVELLY AND CALCULUS CONCRETIONS, IN THE HUMAN SUBJECT; AND THE EFFECTS OF ALKALINE AND ACID SUBSTANCES ON THEM, IN AND OUT OF THE BODY. BY THOMAS EGAN, M.D. M. RB. I. A. ———=3 9900 006—— READ, MARCH 6", 1805: THE constant occurrence of these afflicting complaints, in Simpson’s Gouty Hospital, to which I have been phy- sician for several years, first turned my serious attention to the most probable means of alleviating or removing them. But, to obtain this desirable end, an examination into the nature of the predisposing and proximate causes; of the chemical and other properties of gravelly matter it- self; and that species of calculus, most generally resulting from its aggregation; as well as of the remedies, and their mode of operation; became indispensably necessary. I must also acknowledge, that I was not a little excited to this enquiry, by the consideration, that, whilst the medi- cines, now most confided in, by modern practitioners, are VOL. X. Gg supposed 230 supposed to exert no energy on those substances, out of the body; yet their beneficiak effeets, ‘taken internally, stand uncontroverted, by the experience of almost every physician. Induced by these motives, I Had) as’. fay back. as the year 1799, instituted a series of experiments, in hopes of throwing some more light on this subject: and, perhaps, chemically explaining, upon what. ground, alkaline sub- stances in general alleviate, whilst acids as, constantly ag- gravate, this afflicting disease. But, knowing that Messrs. Fourcroy and Vauquelin had been, for many years, particularly engaged im the analysis of urine, and its morbid concretions; and expecting, from their superior abilities in researches of this kind, that the object, which I had in view, would be more satisfacto- rily fulfilled; I did not wish to imtrude any observations of my own on the public. After, however, most anxiously attending & the result of their scientific labours on this subject, as they have been, since that period, successively detailed by M. Four- croy, in the Annales de Chimie, Memoirs of the National Institute, and latterly, in his great and elaborate work, the Connoissances Chimiques; and finding little, if, indeed, any thing, illustrative of the subject, to which I would wish to point the attention of the Faculty, as well, as the public in general; I again latterly repeated, with much care, my experiments of 1799, and added some. more, which 231 which may probably prove interesting, in a practical point of view. These, with some observations, and deductions from them, I now, with diffidence, offer to the candor and con- sideration of the Academy. I must. here premise, that the limits of an academic. dissertation necessarily confine me, chiefly, to the consi- deration of gravelly matter itself, and that species of cal- culus, which most generally results from its aggregation. Though determined to intrude as little as possible on their time, by an useless quotation from ancient authors, who could have no clear ideas of the subject: yet the better illustration of my ;object, as well as a sense of jus- tice, oblige me to go. as far back as Van Helmont, whose great, though eccentric genius first observed, that the sub- ject matter of calculus existed in the urine itself. But the flighty extravagance of his ideas, of which he has given us a specimen on this subject, in his Treatise de Lithiasi, (a wonderful production for the time,) caused lit- tle attention to be paid to his opinion; and it was reserv- ed for the capacious and learned genius of Boerhaave, first to ascertain, beyond future doubt, the presence of gravel- ly matter, as a natural. constituent part of urine, kept in chemical solution in it, and eliminated by it, out of the system. Of this important fact, no material use was made, until the all-prying genius of the immortal Linnzus in- duced him to request his friend Scheele, to turn, for a moment, his great chemical abilities, to the investigation Gg2 of 232 of this subject; with what success is but too well known. And from this again had arisen the further prosecution of this enquiry, by the celebrated Bergman. The result of the analysis of the latter was highly ho- nourable to the former chemist; as they perfectly agreed in almost every particular, with the exception of some small quantity of insoluble matter, and the presence of lime, observed by Bergman: a difference now very easily accounted for; the former having examined calculi of the pure lithic acid, or, as it is now termed, uric kind, (by far the most common species,) and entirely soluble in pure alkaline lixivia, and nitric acid. The latter, those of the mixed kind, consisting, also, chiefly, of lithic acid, but with interposed lamin; or, probably, a nucleus. of either calcareous phosphat, or oxalt of lime, which frequently oc- curs, in a very large proportion of these concretions. We may also observe, that Bergman had not, at this period, an adequate idea of the large proportion and insolubility of animal matter, contained in them. From their joint analysis, it was, for the first time, proved, that the subject matter of gravel, and of a very large proportion of calculi, was present, in a state of _real chemical solution, in all healthy urme; that it was possessed of the following distinguishing chemical pro- perties. . Insipidity, inodorous, crystallizable, nearly insoluble in cold water, and only soluble in some thousandth parts of its weight of boiling water: separable again from this, 335 ‘this, upon cooling) in a beautiful: and’ peculiar crystalline “form, of easy solubility, in pure alkaline lixivia, which it -rendets sweetish,' and neutralizes: ‘precipitable from these ‘again, by the weakest acids, and still possessing its original crystalline form and properties: | That, from these circum- -stances, with that of. turning thé vegetable blues red, it was of an acid nature, soluble’ in’ nitrous acid with ef- fervescence: this solution tinging the ‘skin, and other animal matters, red, and, upon evaporation to dryness, assuming ‘a red rose colour? this‘last property being peculiarly cha- -racteristic of ‘this substance; subliming in part by. distil- lation, without any alteration in’ its’ properties, and af- fording ‘carbonate of? amthonia,’ and ‘other usual animal ‘prodacts,’ partly from ‘the admixtire of animal matter, and ‘propably’some adhering’ urea. To these‘distinguishing che- «mical' properties of the Swedish'chemist, Fourcroy has since added the following. When triturated with a lixiviam of either of ‘thé fixed ‘alkaliés, it forms’ a’ matter ‘ofa’ sapo- naceous consistence, very ‘soluble with exééss of alkali, but little ‘so without it.. The saturated urats of pot-ash and soda aré little sapid, soluble, or ‘crystallizable. By preci- ‘pitating their dilute solution, by muriatic’ acid, we’ obtain the lithic acid, im’ brilliant, needle-like: crystals, very vo- luminous; a little coloured, tending to the yellow, or fauve, (as he calls it). Ammonia exerts little, if any, solvent power upon it: lime-water takes up a little.’ The alkaline carbonates |have no action upon ‘it: and’this Jast circum stance, ‘I> would ‘beg leave ito observe} has -eontmued to LBVESTS ' be 234 be the opinion, to/ this) day; but how far founded, will appear in. the sequel... To this matter Scheele gave the name of lithic acid; by. which it continued to be known, until our, countryman, Dr. Pearson, has latterly proposed that. of .uric; a.change greedily adopted by the French chemists, as being.more particularly indicative of its ori- gin. And, though I would presume to think,. that the for- mer known appellation might be retained, without dan- ‘ger of leading into error, as to its mature; yet, in,com- pliance with the philosophers of both nations, I shall, in future, term.it uric, acid; and the concretions of that na- ture, calculi of the wric¢, acid kind. We must naturally suppose, that the publication of ,Scheele’s, Essay excited the experimental .enquiries of both,chemists .and , physi- cians. His experiments were, accordingly, repeated, by se- veral of our countrymen in particular; but with various, and,,in, many instances, different results,’ It was already cursorily observed, that .Bergman’s ana- lysis differed, from Scheele’s, in some, circumstances, which he, even at that period, was disposed to attribute to a difference in the nature of the calculi, which they respec- tively examined;..and this conjecture has been fully esta- blished, by every subsequent inquiry, since that time. We accordingly find a, paper of Dr. Dawson’s, in the London Medical Transactions for the year 1769, shewing these concretions to be of very different and opposite kinds, and, of course, soluble in very different and opposite kinds of menstrua: as also a letter from Dr. Saunders to Dr. Percival, 235 Percival,.of Manchester;, published, inthe third volume of Perciyal’s; Philosophical: and Experimental Essays, in 1776, detailing several. experiments; from which he fairly con- cludes,. that. the ‘Doctor’s: énthusiastic hope, of dissolving all calculi, im, a solution ‘of carbonic acid, must: prove groundless,’ from, the very, different nature of their compo- nent. parts, \as; ascertained: by his own experiments. . This was placed beyond further: doubt, by our own learned and ingenious’. professor, Mr. William) Higgins; who, in an ana- lysis of a, calculus; of which hei gives an account, in his comparative, View. jof »thePhlogisti¢é and Antiphlogistic Theories, (a work of singular merit’ for that: period, to _which we. will afterwards’ refer,) and published so far back as 1789, enumerates the many various substances contained in ene, specimen only. ‘Phe-researches' of Austin, Lane, and Brugnatelli, led to similar results. But to the learned and accurate Dr. Wollaston we stand indebted; for the first clear and distinct discrimination .of the:component parts of these substances._ In a paper, read to the: Royal Society in the year 1797, which would not discredit either a Bergman or a Klaproth, he has most accurately demonstrated, both ana- lytically and synthetically, the component parts of three distinct species of calculi; namely, :the fusible, as he terms it, or the ammonico-magnesian phosphat of Fourcroy; the mulberry,, or, Oxalt, of, lime kind; ‘and bohe- earth ‘calculus, or, phosphat of lime;: which; with) thé uricj}welbiknown to us, since. the time; of Scheele, left: us: then acquainted with the, four species, of \calculi,.. of most frequent~ occurrence. ") Under 1} yk 236 Under these circumstances, I cannot help expressing my surprise, at finding M. Fourcroy still assuming the merit of the discovery, of all the different component parts of calculi; the uric acid, and phosphat of lime, excepted. This circumstance must appear the more unaccountable, when we consider, that the communication of Doctor Wol- laston’s experiments, was through the medium of the Trans- actions of the Royal Society for 1797. Finally, M. Four- croy, to whom Europe stands not a little indebted, for the present general diffusion of chemical knowledge; and to whom the medical profession owe the greatest obliga- tions, for his unremitted application to animal chemistry, has, in conjunction with Vauquelin, given us the result of his researches upon five hundred calculi: from which it appears that they contain the seven following ingredients. Uric» acid. . Urat of ammonia. . Phosphat of lime. . Ammonico magnesian phosphat. . Oxalt of lime. Silica. . Animal matter. NYonUkoON From the prevalence of any of these ingredients, ‘or their relative proportions, he divides them into''four genera; and’ these again into twelve species: for an account of which I must refer to the tenth volume of the Connoissanées ' Chimiques, 237 Chimiques, and the Memoires of the National Institute; not proposing to go into their chemical properties, farther than may be necessary to my present inquiry; namely, of how far acids may be conducive to the formation, or al- kalescent substances to the prevention, or even solution, of a large proportion of gravelly and calculus concretions. We have already remarked, that, to the sagacity of Boer- haave, we are indebted, for the knowledge of gravelly mat- ter being a constituent part of urme, kept in chemical solution in it; and, happily for mankind, only separable from it, after being some considerable time out of the body. After minutely detailing the ingenious means made use of by Boerhaave, to ascertain this important point, to which I beg leave to refer, his commentator, Van Swie- ten, goes on to observe. j “ Hoc calculi rudimenta adsunt etiam in urma homi- “ num sanissimorum; que, si una cum urina secernuntur, “ antequam ab urina secesserint, et concrescere inceperint, * nullo modo sanitatem ledent. Cum autem observatum “ fuerit, illam separationem rudimentorum calculi citius “ fieri in quibusdam hominibus, tardius in aliis, patet, ** illos magis calculo obnoxios vivere, in quibus citius hac ‘“* separatio arenularum obtinet. An quandoque illa sepa- * ratio contingit jam in renibus, et in vesica, antequam “ urina expellatur de corpore? Certe videtur. Vidi szepius, “* una cum urina excretum sabulum nephriticum expulsum fuisse, statimque, calente adhuc et fumante urina, in *fundo matule subsedisse. Contigit aliquoties, inventam VOL. X. nh © fuisse 238 ‘ fuisse, in linteis sanorum infantum urina madidis, co- piam sabuli nephritici, satis duri, quod videtur una cum urina excretum fuisse. Cum enim magna cura habere- tur, ne hi infantes, (illustri genere nati,) diutius urind, vel aliis sordibus, conspurcati manerent, et urina statim per lintea penetret, vix videtur possibile fuisse, ut in urina jam emissa hoc sabulum productum fuerit, intra ‘** unam alteramve horm.” And, again, he adds, “ Hoe sabulum, in urina etiam sanissima concrescens, vocari posset calculus nativus; a quo nemo liber est; at qui tunc tantum metuendus videtur, si cito in urima concrescat. Felices illi, in qui- “ bus tardissime hoc fit. Propriam sepius examinavi uri- nam, letusque vidi, rudimenta:illa prima caculi sepa- rari quam tardissime, requiri quandoque horas viginti “* quatuor et ultra, antequam in sabulum majoris molis “ concrescere potuerint. Sed et, licet decimum tertium ** eetatis lustrum emensus jam fuerim, ab omni lithiasi “ immunis Vixi.” The mode and appearances, attending the separation and crystallization of this substance, from healthy urine, is one of the most beautiful, that, probably, chemistry affords. But, as the circumstances are so minutely and correctly detailed by Boerhaave, and his commentator, Van Swieten, in his treatise De Calculo, Vol. V. page 201 and 202, and correspond so much with my own experiments, so often repeated; I must refer to him. On this passage, however, I must observe, that the space of twenty-four hours, 239 hours, mentioned by him, as the period of spontaneous separation, is by far, in the healthy state, too short, and. that it extends to two, three, and, sometimes, more days, according to the existing temperature, and other circum- stances. Nothing, therefore,’ I will presume to say, is more erroneous, than the assertion, repeated in almost ‘ every chemical book, that the uric acid separates from urine, upon cooling. When this occurs, which frequently happens, particularly with children, the urine is certainly surcharged with this very insoluble substance. An increased temperature hastens the incipient decom- position of urine; and its first ammoniacal degeneration is always attended by the deposition of its uric acid, in its crystalline form. This did not escape the fase nase of Hales, who tells us, that urine, tending to putrefaction, affords most of this acid substance: and, indeed, were it to be deposited upon cooling, or within the space of twenty-four hours, or even more, as is so generally asserted, it should,, every day, present itself to physicians, who so constantly attend to the state of urine in glasses; but this is by no means the case: and we find Fourcroy, in his last publication, men- tioning from twenty-four to forty-eight hours, which cer- tainly only applies to summer heat, or the circumstance already mentioned. Our next great obligation is, undoubtedly, to Scheele; who has made us acquainted’ with its nature, and the very distinct chemical properties already enumerated. nh 2 : While 240 While, in the state of gravel, it is ever the same, whe- ther passed immediately with the urine, or spontaneously deposited, or precipitated from it: a circumstance that, for a long time, continued to give me much surprize, con- sidering the variety of calculi; but of the truth of which I was convinced, by the examination of many hundred specimens, for many years back. I was, therefore, pleased to find, that Fourcroy, for ee first time, in his Connoissances Chimiques, asserts, “ les ** sables des reins sont presqué toujours de l’acide urique.” And, in another place, he says, speaking of the uric acid, * cét lui qui forme les sables, qui se crystallize et s’at- “‘ tache aux parrois de vaissaux.” : No wonder, then, that calculi of this kind should be of most frequent occurrence; and that, of five hundred, ana- lyzed by Fourcroy, one fourth should entirely consist of it, besides its occasional admixture with the remainder: and, of three hundred, examined by Pearson, the greater number were found to be of this nature. Having premised these necessary observations, we have now to consider, to what circumstances we may attribute its separation, m a crystallized or aggregate state, from its natural solvent: the only condition, in which it can be productive of inconvenience, or diseases of this kind. And first; I would observe, that, being a natural secre- tion, of which the urine is only the vehicle, destined to carry it out of the system, it must be subject to the same derangements, with the other secretions of the human body ; 941 body ;)"and may, of course, sometimes exceed in quantity, and, at other times, be more deficient; which last circum- stance seems to take place, AEH the continuance of acute diseases. That ‘a morbidly send taeib secretion does frequently occur, and that, too, independent of external causes, we have the most satisfactory proof of, in the hereditary dispo- sitions of many families to this complaint. And, indeed; when we consider the same ‘to take place, relative to the functions, ‘and secretions of the liver; we must not be sur- prised at ‘similar deviations in those’ of the kidneys: Here, truly, they are of more mischievous tendency, as, from the very sparing solubility of the uric acid, (even in its own natural menstruum,) the smallest excess in quantity .must subject it to precipitation. Having premised these necessary considerations, I shall proceed to enquire into those circumstances, which the experience and observation of all times have pointed out to us, as the most frequent’ occasioiial \causes of these maladies; and how - far: these -opmions. may: be confirmed by experiments, instituted . for. that purpose. And first. It is a matter of notoriety. 2 that the period Of this practical Sib peaigcil we have an interesting confirmation, inserted in the second volame of the Me- moires of the French National Institute, Mathematical and Physical Sciences, year 7. Under the former happy re- a gime, 242 gime,. there was instituted, about forty years ago, at Lu- neville, in Lorraine, an hospital for the exclusive relief of. calculus and gravelly patients. In that interval, sixteen hundred and twenty-nine, of both sexes, were admitted, and operated upon. Of these, fifteen hundred and sixty- four were males, and}only sixty-five females. . Citizen Saucerotte, an associate of the institute, to whom we are indebted for these interesting details, annexes ta- bles indicative of the number of these patients, that oc- curred at the different periods of life, from the age of one, up to seventy-eight. To these, as too extensive to be inserted here, I would beg leave to refer; and shall satisfy myself with some extracts only, expressive of the general result. AGE OF PATIENTS, NUMBER OF PATIENTS. MALE SEX. 1 year to Qeseeeeeeaseeee J] yy) Yearseserreeees peace «lexan 14 Drikive sa inwitere Wes d Red «we "79 Brrr. TOC FINS. DOME tan 131 Uy, ores ws 2 sane e lel ele atecere /m vrela 145 pu petenots a cipial elsusickeieiayaiers! sr atolls 147 From this age, which afforded. the maximum of the number of patients, we find a gradual declension, as fol- lows. AGE | 8 YCATS+ + ae ele Sie laie ole ea rmeerse 121 Of the sixty-five’ females. 2)" sIIBG fr .yisioos to aes ent to “asibls SG oF PATIENTS. eIILIG * Ant ‘NoMBER OF PATIENTS.) |) + < f Liyear tO Bester eee see dened fiSs 2 OFT 7 te [if . j ia 3 ve SOG 2h Alle essen owe VG ¥.10 9 tf oF SID * From which period, down to seventy-eight, there occurs but one:or two upon each year:) From these then we learn, rc Stil . how 244 how much more subject the male sex is, to those com- plaints, than the female;..and -the earlier periods of life, than the more. advanced,. For, among. the males in the sixth year, we find. 147, (the.greatest number,) and among the females, only: -five . at eight. . From. these periods, in both sexes, the numbers. rapidly. diminish. These facts would -lead- us to conclude, that some phy- siological cause, peculiar -to the functions of this early stage, may give rise to this. difference;. and I will not pretend to say, but-this. may - possibly. exist: but, when we consider, that, in -every: country; the infant poor are the greatest sufferers, -we are induced: -to. inquire further, and suspect the existence of some general cause, affect- ing and applicable to,them all.. That a similarity of diet, (in the children of this class of society, in particular,) must every where nearly take place, is evident: and that this is, but too often, of. the. kind most: prone to the acescent tendency, such.as pap,- gruel, sour milk, &c.; all which it is not-always-in the power. of the parents to renew, or administer, in-a recent and sound state; an error not unfrequently. occurring, from the negligence of nurses, even in the upper ranks, but irremediable in the lower: where this acescent. tendency cannot. be corrected, by the seasonable admixture. of. broth, or -other light ani- mal food; their. unhappy. situation confining’ them exclu- sively, like their cattle, to the sole use of vegetables, and the farinacea. To pass on, from infancy, to ig een periods of life, 245 life, and jbegin with, our own island; we find, that, consi- dering the jextent of .our population, the. disease is of re- lative rare occurrence. So much so, that the Jate Mr. Dease, (whose premature death we haye still to deplore, as a national, calamity,) with all his, well deserved cele- brity, as 1a lithotomist,, never. operated, upon more. than sixty... A small number indeed, when we consider, that the operation is seldom, if ever, attempted in the country. And why this should happen here, we shall be presently, perhaps, better able to judge... The reyerse.of this occurs inthe sister kingdom; and the Inish student feels astonished, at the frequency of the operation; in all the London hospitals, though also per- formed in .these.of the more considerable country towns: and, upon enquiy,-he finds, that a large proportion of these patients come up from the cider countries of Here- ford, Devon, &c. And it must naturally occur to him, that the general use of fermented liquors of every kind, beer, cider, perry, and ,factitious wines, which prevail in England,, renders the disease, of more frequent occurrence there, than with us;|jthe great mass of our people being deprived of these luxuries. If we pass over to the Continent, we find our neigh- bouring provinces, Picardy, Normandy, and Brittany, in particular, still more subject to affections, of this. kind: so much so, that the late, Mr. Dease could not give credit to the extraordinary number of patients operated on, in one year only, in the hospital of Rouen; though many must have, of course, repaired to Paris. The same, though, in VOL. X. ra a lesser 246 a lesser dégree, ‘takes: ‘place in’ Champagne; and it is: al- most unnecessary to observe, that the general beverage ot the northern provinces consists of cider, or of poor wine, equally acescent ih its nature,’ and prone to the acetous fermentation. The’ Champagne, though somewhat less’ so; is’ repléte ‘with carbonic acid’ gas, and disengaged tartarous ‘acid; and though, ‘in the moré southern provinees, this malady cannot be considered as endemial, yet ‘it is of fre- quent occurrence in the hospitals of Montpellier. For, even in these favoured climés, where wine «is of so little value, and withal sospirituous; the unfortunate pea- sant is obliged to content himself with an inferior quality, prepared by a second maceration of the mare of the grape, which he denominates ’ picquet; a patois appellation, most happily applied to its highly acid quality. In that once happy ‘country, Switzerland, on the con- trary, as’ Baron Haller assures us, the disease is by no means frequent, and chiefly confined to the children of the poorer sort; their mountainous and elevated situations affording them little or no vinous ‘liquors: whereas their neighbours, the inhabitants of the Rhine and Moselle, as well as some tracts on the banks of the Danube, are: pe- culiarly afflicted. The truth of this observation we find confirmed, by the medical authors of all times. Silvius observes, ‘ Vina acida “ tenuia et Rhenana, magis nocere calculosis quam opi- “ ma;” and the same is particularly insisted ‘on, in Dole- us’s “ Encyclopedia, Ephemerides nature curiosorum,” and Rivinus’s “ Morbi endemici,” &c. | Now, the wines in these eee these. countrics sare, well known, to be of an. acid quality; and , Hoffman asserts, | and, that. tao from experiments, that they. abound in the tartarous acid: having found them to contain ja,double relative. quantity;of that in other wines; and, to, this. we qmay,;add, no, small. proportion, of. carbonic - acid,., " Linnzus, in ;his dissertation “ De Genesi Calculi,” inserted ; (in. the second volume of the “ Amenitates Acade- ‘{omuce,.’ seems more, particularly to pomt out acids, and agescent,, drinks, .as, the.chief causes of. calculus. affections. He says,,“* aciday. fermentescentia omnia, calculum promo- **.vent;, hine, yina, aciday genesi calculi magis favent, quam ha lala Qui. acida vina copiose ingurgitant, podagre et * calculo; plus, exponun tur, quam illi, qui, terras calidiores « inhabitant, et, dulcia,,vina, hauriynt,., Nec. mirum, cum “¢yini . Rhenani. libre quatuor _dgstillatione., dant _spiritus * acidi) )dxachmas quingue; et, vini, ‘Tocariensis _prebet spi- ce ritus acidi, tantum semidrachmam, ‘teste Hoffmanno. Sa- “‘ nissimus quisque a potu acido, sepe stranguriam incur- “ rit, o;quod;ab_acidis ingestis ,particule terrestres pre- “ cipitantur:” And again; “ quin.podagra igitur et calcu- “ lus ab.acido generentur, snullum, -est..dubium; id etiam “ab eorum communi cura; ad., quam, pergimus, luculen- *“* tius patebit.” Beverovie, De -Calculo, 80, also obseryes, “% ¢ fim, mullo vino, tantum tartari, apud nos accrescit, quam “ Rhenano. De me, ipso,, quod , etiam ex, plurimis audi- “* visse memini, possum, testari, nunquam Rhenanum assum- ‘“ sisse paulo largius, quin copiose arenulas excernerem.” The reverse of all this is observed to take place, where Peeks, the 248 the use of wine is prohibited. Rivinus observes, that, in the city of Batavia, where the pursuit of commerce brings together a vast assemblage of the neighbouring Asiatic nations, whenever the disease occurs, it is almost always in’ the 1hstance of some Hollander, who, in his passage to India, drank freely of bottled beer, and used sour crout. In Persia, the same author, in his excellent treatise, De Mor- bis Endemicis, observes, that whenever calculus affection occurs, either in Ispahan, or the provinces, it is, assuredly, in the instance of some Armenian, (fellows, to use his words,) who, in every latitude, drink more wine than water. Again, in Grand Cairo, where the proximity of the Gre- cian islahds, and ‘ready conveyance by the Nile, render jwiné of easy acquisition, and ‘drunkenness and public- houses as common, as in any city of Germany; we learn, from Prosper Alpinus, that the disease is of very frequent occurrence: for, besides a mixed population of Franks, Armenians, Arabs, &c. the Mamelukes, as well as many other Turks of the higher ranks, do not, in deference to the Mahometan law, refrain from wine. The Cyprian and Grecian wines, if not adulterated, or become acescent by dilution, and the warm temperature of that city, are, in themselves, among the least objectionable. But, when we consider, that Paris is chiefly supplied with Burgundy, and that, yet, in no part of the world does there occur more mischief, from the attempts to keep down and cor- rect its acéscency, we will easily form an opinion of the quality of the wine retailed in Cairo. To 249: To this abstinence, then, from: wine and fermented li- quors; as also, perhaps, to the admixture of a large pro- portion of the warmest spices, in their vegetable food, tending to correct its acescent tendency-; we may ascribe the rare occurrence of this disease, in the more southern climates. Now, these more general remarks, we find peculiarly to: coincide with the observations of the patients themselves, as well as that of the physician: for such as have laboured | under these complaints, a sufficient length of time to be- come acquainted with the juvantia and ledentia, most scru- pulously abstain from acids, and acescent drinks of all kinds, and, what they find most particularly pernicious, beer, or ales, turning over to the acetous fermentation, or hard, as they are generally termed. And, indeed, nothing is more common, than that an indulgence in cyder, cla- ret, or acidulated punch, nay, a draft of hard beer or por- ter, should be followed by a fit of the gout and gravel. “The connection between these diseases forms an inte- resting and curious subject of physological, as well as pathological inquiry: but, proposing to offer some obser- vations on this subject on a future occasion, I shall; at: present, decline entering upon it, and pass on to observe, that’ the bad effects of all acidulous drinks, are fully con- firmed, by the experience of our many sufferers in Simp- son’s Hospital. Hewson, who lately died there, at the ad-= vanced age of 102, never tasted the beer of the house, during the summer months, and substituted milk to it; . being 250 being taught by experience, that its acid tendency, du- ring that period, always induced his gravelly: paroxisms. And Clapham, who suffered much from gout and gra- yel, and was, for many years, a ship-captain, informed me, his voyages to America were always succeeded by fits of both; which he attributed to a free indulgence in the use of cyder, a beverage to which he was then peculiarly attached: and that, at any time, he could excite a pa- roxism of one or the other, or both, by drinking acidu- lated punch, or claret. Khensk, our greatest martyr, (hay- ing all his articulations. distorted by gouty concretions, and who once lived in easy circumstances,) assured me, that the severest and longest protracted fit of the gout and gravel, he ever experienced, was occasioned by a sur- feit of a poor vapid claret. And I shall conclude. this part of my subject, by observing, that the clergy of the Ro- man Catholic church are peculiarly liable to these com- plaints, and form no small proportion of the number ope- rated upon in this city: which I would attribute to the use of a small and sour wine, during thei residence in their seminaries abroad. These facts being pretty well .established and acknow- ledged, it is time to inquire, how far we may account for them; and whether experiments, instituted out of the body, may not throw some light on this subject. Dr. Saunders, in a letter to Dr. Percival, ‘ Percival’s Essays Medical and Experimental,” Vol. III. on the subject of carbonic acid, as a solvent of calculous concretions, observes, “ if ** a more 25r «qa more powerful and active solvent, than any Intherto “ known, shall be discovered;. it is highly probable, that “such a discovery can only be made, by a. rational and * chemical inquiry, into the powers of different bodies of “ combining with the contents of the urme, and preserving « them in a fluid state out of the body.” Now, on the other hand, we may. presume, that, whatever substances cause:a separation, or precipitation of uric acid, in. an aggregate state, from healthy urine, will give rise to these disorders: For, we are not to forget, that the uric acid, whieh forms so large a proportion of caculous concretions,.and the en-< tire of the gravelly, is a natural secretion: from the bloods performed by the functions of the kidneys, and excreted by the urine; and can only be prejudicial, by a previous morbid separation from it, within the body. With this- necessary view of ‘the subject before us, (for which we are; as already observed, indebted to Boerhaave,) I resolved to try, First, what might be the effects of. acids: of: diffe- rent kinds, on healthy urine, as to their influence, in caus- ing this same. previous precipitation; and, Secondly, that of alkaline substances, in preventing it. And, here, it must be observed, that, to draw any satisfactory conclusions; from experiments, made with these substances out of the body; we must suppose they reach the! kidneys, and. blend with the urine, still possessing their relative distinctive pro- perties: and, that this takes place, we have every reason to presume. Doctors Percival and: Saunders, Mr. Bewley, and others, have ascertained the presence of carbonic acid, in « 252 in an uncombined state, in the urine of those, who drank the mephitic water, for some days; an acid certainly foreign to its recent healthy state: for, after repeated trials, by heating it to nearly ebullition, in one of Priestley’s air-bottles, I never could procure the separation, or tran- sition of a single bubble of carbonic acid, into a jar of lime-water. And, if this weak acid reaches the kidneys, utidecomposed or uncombined, we will have less difficulty in believing, the more powerful ones may do so. That the ‘tartarous acid, in the combination of the acidulous tarta- rite of potash, exerts powerful effects on the functions of the kidneys, is well known; and, that the urine is, at the same time, rendered more acid, I have repeatedly ascer- tained, by the usual tests. We may say the same of the other vegetable acids, — which manifest also diuretic powers, and increase the na- tural acidity of the urine. Linneus, in his second volume of the Amenitates Academice, De Genesi Calculi, already quoted, mentions his having made the following experiment to this purpose. He says, “‘ hisce diebus ipse experimetum institui cum urina; hec communiter a solutione lacmus parum admodum rufescit; at si libram unam vel alte- ram vini Rhenani, vel alterius vini acidi hauserim, ‘post horam unam vel plures, valde rubra et rutilans evadit ‘ urina, ab affusa solutione Jacmus; certo indicio, acidum vini totum corpus permeasse, et urinam infecisse.” Nor should we wonder, that these energetic substances should pass unaltered to the kidneys, when we find so many mild vegetable « a 258 vegetable matters do so. I will not mention the commu- nication of so volatile a principle as odour, but will more particularly dwell on that of colour. Rhubarb, turmerick, madder, and many’ other substances, so completely impart their colour to urine, that they would appear to be very little altered. Nay, the juice of the beta vulgaris, a mild esculent of the pentandrious class, so deeply reddens it, as to cause it to be mistaken for bloody urine, of which a late instance’ has occurred in my practice. As to alkaline substances, it has been at all times known, that they communicate their properties to this excremen- tious liquor. A perseverance in the use of the agua kali puri, of the shops, for a few days, even in small doses, converts its acescent into the alkaline state; and we have every reason to suppose, that the same takes place with the carabonates, which are taken in so much larger quan- tities. This» seems confirmed, by experiments made in London and Paris; and the alkalescent impregnation of the urine was ascertained by the formation and precipitation of the acidulous tartarite of potash, upon the addition of the tartarous acid. Yet, from a good deal of experience in these matters, I) may aver, that, as to the carbonates, the dose must’ be considerable, (which was the case in London,) and continued for some time; having frequently given two scruples of desiccated soda, (containing, accord- ing to Mr. Kirwan, 23,94 gts.) in the twenty-four hours, for some days together, without any diminution of ' the usual ‘acidity of this liquor. VOL. X, Kk For ‘ 254 For the information of such of my readers, as may not be of the medical profession, 1 must here observe, that physicians distinguish two kinds of urine: the one ren- dered immediately after meals, and much dilution, before the process of digestion, or state of sleep can take place; always more or less limpid; being comparatively less charg- ed with the natural component parts of urine, (the urée, or extractive colouring matter, in particular,) and called urina potus, to distinguish it from the urina sanguinis, ren- dered, many hours after meals and sleep, the taking no more than a necessary quantity of liquids, and contain- ing the usual proportion of saline, and other ingredients; more especially the urée, to which it owes its natural ci- trine colour. This last, therefore, was that employed in the follow- ing experiments, if not otherwise specified: with the chemical history of which I must suppose gentlemen of the profession now tolerably well acquainted; being so fully and accurately detailed, in the tenth volume of the Connoissances Chimiques. Having, in the preceding pages, insisted so much on the acids, and acescent drinks, as occasional. causes of these complaints, the first object seemed to be, to ascer- tain whether the urine of those most subject to them, or actually labouring under them, was more relatively acid. We have already seen, from a register of these patients, , kept for forty years in the hospital of Luneville, that the early period of life, from two to six years of age inclusive, is 255, is most liable to calculus affections. Now, the urine of healthy children is always found more acid than that of adults; generally, in the proportion of two to one. Whilst several drops of the latter are requisite to redden a given quantity of infusion of litmus, a single drop of the former turns it to a clear red. Paper, stained with an infusion of turmerick, and reddened by an alkali, was immediately restored to its colour, by a single immersion in the urine of children: an effect, which required some time in that of adults. And that this should be the case, we will not be so much surprised at, when we consider the nature of their diet; and that, in addition to the phosphoric and uric, their urine contains the benzoic acid in considerable quantity: the proportion of which is found afterwards pro- gressively to diminish with their advancement in life. - The constant opportunity I have, of attending to those subjects, enables me to say, that the urine of. gravelly patients, when fresh rendered, nay, after standing many hours, in'a temperature of sixty degrees, is relatively more acid than the healthy; sometimes as much so as the gouty; and. frequently continues so, even after depositing its gra- velly matter. An exception to this, however, sometimes occurs in gouty habits; their urine depositing copiously this acid substance, and yet manifesting no increased, but sometimes rather decreased acescency: for, with them, a considerable diminution of the quantity of the usually ex- created super-acidulated phosphoric salt often takes place, as shall be fully explained upon another occasion. Kk2 Having 256 Having premised these observations, it is now time to consider what effects acid substances are productive of, when mixed, out of the body, with this very complicated liquor.. And here, to prevent repetition, I will observe, that that generally used, was rendered fresh in the morn- ing, in the quantity of from three to four ounces, (unless otherwise specified;) being that most easily retained at one time in the bladder. ‘The quantity of acid extremely small, for obvious reasons, and seldom increasing its aces- cent properties (as ascertained by the usual tests) beyond what frequently occurs, in the urine of those who use acescent drinks, or are afflicted with gout or gravel. A standard quantity was always laid by for comparison; and the temperature from sixty to seventy-five degrees, being in autumn, 1799. And to begin with the vegetable acids. EXPERIMENT I. To four ounces of the urine of an adult, was added one drachm of common acetous acid, which (like every other - acid) caused no immediate change in it; but, in a very short time, and before it cooled down to the temperature of the atmosphere, some extremely minute shining spi- cule, observable only by a lens, were seen floating in it: these gradually increased in number and size, began to reflect the light, and, from being perfectly transparent, soon became coloured, to settle upon the usual cloud, or nubecula, which now began to form, adhere to the sides of 257 of the glass, and partly fall to the bottom, in the shape of small bright red crystals. In the standard, after twelve hours, nothing more observable, than the usual nubecula; nor was there any sign of crystallization, or separation of uric acid, even. after twenty-four. ' EXPERIMENT II. To the same quantity of adult urine, were added one drachm and half of acetous’‘acid;' which ‘caused a more copious separation and crystallization of this substance, with the foregoing appearances. None observable in the standard after twenty-four hours. | BXPERIMENT U1. “To four ounces of urine of a healthy child, who never was observed to pass gravel, and of the usual degree of acidity, was added one drachm of acetous acid, which soon caused an evident ‘and copious separation of crys- tallized uric acid. The crystals were, however, not quite: so coloured; the urine! of children not being so much im- pregnated with the urée, or colouring matter. No such appearance in the standard after twelve hours or more. - EXPERIMENT Iv. To four ounces of adult urine, ‘rendered very soon after a ‘tea breakfast; and nearly in a state of urina potus, was added 258 added one drachm, of acetous jacid,,.After three hours, a crystallization of minute: sandy. particles. took place, None in the standard, even after three days, EXPERIMENT V. Thirty drops euly, of acetous acid, were added to four ounces of the urine of a gouty patient, zt. sixty, and who sometimes felt some slight gravelly tendency. A very co- pious precipitation of this matter quickly took place. Some observable in the standard; also, the next day. EXPERIMENT, VI. To three ounces of healthy adult urine, were added a few drops only of citric acid. A distinct crystallization, but extremely minute, took. place. No appearance of any in the standard, after many hours. The experiment was repeated with one drachm of filtered citric acid, which only hastened the separation, and increased the quantity of jerystalline matter... .- , Finding, by these experiments, and. numberless others, with. a detail of which it would be unnecessary to ‘take up the time of the Academy, that the acetous and citric acids, blended with the urine, separated its uric acid in a crystallized state; I thought it might be interesting, to investigate what the effect of the tartarous acid might be: being that, which, in an uncombined, and partly combined state of acidule, as in, the acidulous tartarite of potash, chiefly 259 chiefly prevails in the wines: and: beverage of those coun- tries most subject: to'these complaints. HXPERIMENT VIt. To four ounces of healthy adult urine, were added some drops only of pure tartarous acid. To the same quantity, one drachm of acetous acid; which brought them nearly ‘to the same standard ‘of acidity: a circumstance always attended to in the comparative trials with different acids. In that with the tartarous acid, the crystals were not only larger and darker coloured, but exceeded in quantity . any thing before observed. In that with the acetous’ acid, a much smaller proportion of minute crystals took place. a L i i LAvt EXPERIMENT VIII. - To four ounces of urine, were added’ two drachms' of a filtered solution: of acidulous: tartarite of potash, of the temperature 55 degrees: ‘The usual separation’ and: crys- tallization took place, in large proportion: « the crystals, however, much smaller, and less coloured)! than those: with the uncombined tartarous acid:' The’ two Jast SoBe iia PoRanai, i naga dca the same Pape | ‘EXPERIMENT TX. oe MB D1nOdtB9 : 14 i} ; ii | eet . 4 ‘ Pe ie | hab ‘I ; " son - The result of theabove experiments having led to some Sots as to the! good effects' of the barboiic- acid gasi so a much, 260 much, at one time, recommended by Doctors Percival and Saunders, previous to) its:: more, modern) alkaline combina- tion, in our mephitic, as well as super-aerated soda waters. Into the middle part, of Nooth’s. apparatus, were intro- duced four pounds of fresh rendered healthy urine, and exposed ‘to, a stream, of carbonic acid gas. After a few hours, a copious and beautiful precipitation of uric crys- tals tock place, (notwithstanding the constant agitation, from the transmission of the, gazeous bubbles,) larger than any»1 before observed, that from the tartarous; acid. ex- cepted... In, a standard, quantity, no) distinct erystalliza- tion, even, after two. days. A repetition of the ‘same ex- periment afforded similar results. Vio i iv EXPERIMEMT X. Finding the carbonic acid gas productive of similar ef- fects, with the other acids hitherto examined; it) was na- tural to inquire, how far its combination with the portion of alkaline. matter, contained in our mephitic and soda waters, so highly surcharged with it, may prevent a sepa ration of this,uric acid, Half an ounce, only, of the common, oh water of the shops, prepared by Mr. Kinsley, was added to four ounces. of healthy urine. A similar quantity was impregnated with carbonic acid gas. In the former, after forty-eight hours, or more, no more than the usual nubecula: nor could a single crystal be discovered, even by a, magnifier. In the latter,an early, copious, and beautifal, crystalliza- tion, 261 tion. On the result of this experiment, frequently repeat- ed, with various proportions of the mephitic alkaline wa- ter, I shall afterwards have occasion to make some re- marks. Though the mineral acids, in an uncombined state, en- ter not into the matter of our diet, and are no longer considered as lithontriptics, since the notion of the earthy nature of these concretions has been abandoned; yet, as they are sometimes. prescribed with other indications, I thought fit to extend my researches (though in a summary way) to them also. EXPERIMENT XI. To sixteen ounces of urine, were added eight drops of very dilute sulphuric .acid. To a similar quantity, two scruples of citric acid, to bring them to nearly the same standard of acidity. After a very short interval, in, that with citric acid, the usual appearance of transparent float- ing molecule. reflecting light, and gradually becoming Jar- -_ger,. were. observed, and began to adhere to the glass; whilst in the other, after five hours, no such appearances took place. Yet, after forty-eight, here also a precipitation took place, of smaller crystals, and_ Jess in quantity ; for, being collected on a filter, and carefully dried, they weighed only two grains; whilst the former amounted to three. And this, i is nearly the largest. proportion Lever found the. above quantity, of. healthy ‘uyine to, contain. ry SokAisoby A nt Peete EXPERIMENT’ XIl. As the nitrous acid is one of the most active solvents of this matter, out ‘of the ‘body, I was curious to ‘ascer- tain, whether, in the very dilute state in which it must reach the kidneys and bladder, (where its action must have been facilitated, by the actual state of solution of this substance,) it would manifest its eae: in eee its separation. Yo three ounces of urine, rendered:a few hours after breakfast, and, of course, scarcely acid, were added five drops of weak nitrous acid; which did not seem to add very materially to its acescent properties. To a similar quantity Were added’ four scruples of ace- tous acid. In less than an hour, ‘the former deposited a distinct quantity of gravelly matter, in considerable |pro- portion. ‘This, perhaps, we should not be surprised: at, when We consider how the action of this acid, in that fluid; may be determined ‘by superior affinity. In the lat- ter, the separation did not take place for a considerable time after. We see, then, that the nitrous acid speedily and pubene tk a 8 ee this aed 4 lggiage EXPERIMENT “X11. To six ounces of urine,' shewing a strong acescent qua- lity, were added only three apt iicgd strong’ marine acid: A cloudiness 263 A’ cloudiness and transparent granular precipitation took place,:followed by the formation: of extremely minute gra- velly concretions, which, even after ‘two days standing, did not: assume iso redijia tinge as that with vegetable acids. Thisimayyoprobably, «depend npon some action of this , acid) upon pthe ourée; or colouring matter: but, as to the smallness’ of ‘the crystals, that. evidently: depends upon the more speedy!:precipitation, throwing them down before they can»assume their natural size, and leaving but a shade of difference between the crystalline and pulverulent deposits. (es9Teob i pos OC vised 195 yi ont Ee Seta ‘PXPERIMENT “XIV. oFrom ithé/ above, - then) we. are »satisfied, that the vege- table: and mineral acids: cause a premature separation and crystallization of the! lithic contents of recent healthy urine: but fitemay!/be observed, that this only takes place, under circumstances not at all applicable to the living system; viz. asmuch inferior temperature ; and, in some instances, -a contact with: the atmosphefic air: two powerful, promot- ing causes of) crystallization in: general, but more especially -of the:less: soluble’ salts. To. determine, therefore, this most essential point: >)» feo yd yoni ., JLo! sixsounces! of cold but recent urine, (in a well closed ‘phial,) » were added | five drops covered, «witha muxture | of ‘crystal line, and red pulverulent matter: the latter in great pro- portion, and, probably; prevented ‘from crystallization, by its hasty deposition. Here, then, that encreased propor- tion of icalcaréousi:plesphat: and’ animal: ‘gelatinous ‘mat- tersy; (whith always:takes place gout,) and: could »not be rexpected oHeré,)vivould seem. onlpewantings to forma sortrof synthetic approximation’to the aoutyosediments) The unusual proportion of! deposited) uric’ acid; ein! this experiment, created some! Suspicion; that» the¢ phosphoric acid might, ‘by: a combination with someiaof the. principles lis VOL. X. Mm of 270 of this. very compound. fluid, give rise..to some artificial formation of it, on this occasion. To the filtered. liquor, therefore, of ; pemack 3, “were again superadded five. drops; which; in twenty-four hours, caused a farther separation’ of a very few crystals only. It was. filtered,,a third time, and eight drops more added; but without the smallest appearance of a single crystal, after four days. The additional acid, then, only more ef- fectually and speedily determined: the) separation of | the quantity, naturally contained. in -urine: its more divided pulverulent appearance adding considerably to its volume. It now only remained, to. demonstrate the identity of these various precipitates, with the maturally deposited matter of gravel... For, though it could not be well ‘mis- taken, for any other saline composition in urine; yet, as external characters-are, even in the hands of a Romé de Lisle, or an Abbe Haiiy, fallacious, the following, and concluding one, on the. subject: of acids,; was instituted. is EXPHRIMENT XV. To two drachms of this artificial) gravelly matter, was gradually added one ounce of nitrous acid; which) acted on it, with effervescence, and dissolvedthe whole, »with the exception of some small, floating; floculent, animal particles, so well described by Bergman. | The evaporated solution reddened the: skin, and, after some time, deposited crystals of oxalic acid; as happens in all 271 all coricentrated fitrous’ solutions of ‘calculi, of the uric acid kind. To another small quantity, was added some pure alkaline lixivium; which very soon took it up, became coloured, sweetish, and deposited the usual silky crystalline sediment; upon the addition of acetous acid. No doubt, therefore, ‘could retiteie, ‘as“to its identity, with that na- — thirally deposited. © ~ And here, though irrelevant to my present’ object, sea merely with a view to excite the’ attention of the facul- ty, may I be permitted to ask; how it happens, that, in the very worst ‘kinds of typhus fever, there is very little diminution of the secretion, or excretion of the acidulous phosphat of lime? as appears by the acidity of the urine, lime-water, and the’ quantum of precipitate, afforded by the oxalic acid: whilst’ a very considerable one of the uric acid takes place, and continues so, until nearly the ter- mination of the disease, when it begins gradually again to manifest itself; first, by the usual tests only; but pre- sently, upon the crisis taking place, in such quantity, as to become insoluble; and, therefore, quickly precipitates, (with some additional mixture of calcareous phosphat, and animal mucilaginous matter,) under the form of our criti- cal sediment or deposit? Or, are we not here, again, to to admire the wise economy of the Author of nature, which, by keeping up the considerable and necessary bony excretion of the system, prevents the dangerous accumu- lation of it, which must ensue, from its retention, dur- ing the long protracted Bee of many fevers? I might Mm 2 here 272 / here offer some conjectures, in explanation, but will re- serve them for another place. Having already trespassed so much upon the indulgence of the Academy, I shall here content myself with briefly stating, that, from the above experiments and observations, we may presume to say, acids of every kind are prejudi- cial, and give rise to the formation of gravelly and cal- culus affections, by causing a separation, and crystalliza- ‘tion of the lithic acid contents of urine, within the body: not pretending, however, to deny the existence of other causes, inherent in the system itself, occasionally produc- tive of similar effects, as has been already observed. I shall now proceed to the second part of this inquiry, namely: how far, or in what manner, alkaline matters are conducive to the alleviation of these complaints, PART ‘ 273 PART II. THE bad effects of all acid and acescent substances, being generally felt and acknowledged, we cannot be sur- prised, that sufferers from these maladies should naturally expect an alleviation of their complaints, from substances of a very opposite nature; or that, perhaps, in the general anxiety of mankind to discover a solvent of these concre- tions, the active agency of alkaline matters could not be overlooked. We accordingly find, that, from the remotest antiquity, up to this day, they were, and still are, though under. various modifications, chiefly resorted to. Our an- cient physicians prescribed waters’ with mineral alkaline impregnation; such as Seltzer, Carlsbad, and others: and, in latter times, we find our own countrymen more parti- cularly engaged in these pursuits. Lime-water, recom- mended by White, (to whose numerous and interesting ex- periments I must beg leave to‘refer): lime, and pure al- kaline matter, forming the bases of the celebrated reme- dies of Madam Stephens, Hartley, and others. And, in our own days, the caustic lixivium, again forgot, to make room for the more modern ‘and fashionable introduction of both our alkaline, sub and super-carbonates; the vegeta- ble, as in’ Faulknor’s mephitic alkaline water; or in the’ crystallized carbonate of potash; the’ mineral, in’ a’ desic+ ate? cated 274 cated state, as recommended by my learned and indefati- gable friend, Dr. Beddoes; or in that of the well known soda waters, first introduced in Geneva and Paris. Now, in whatever of the above forms these saline mat- ters are employed, their decided good effects are univer- sally experienced and acknowledged. The Aqua mephitica alkalina I consider the most valuable gift, bestowed upon mankind, by our modern chemistry: and, to Beddoes’ de- siccated soda pills, my colleagues must join with me, in acknowledging our greatest obligations. But how account for these good effects? or what can their modus operandi be? Hic labor, hoc opus. Carbonates, we have always been given to understand, exerted no solvent power on gravelly or calculus matter: and this continues to be the opinion of philosophers, as well as medical chemists, to this day. We find Fourcroy, in his late elaborate work on this subject, still continuing to assert, (in mentioning the action of various matters upon uric acid,) “ les carbonates alkalines n’ont “aucune action sur lui.” Nor does the difficulty diminish, with respect to the pure alkalies; for, in the stomach and prime vie, they must return again, to either a carbonated or saponaceous state. My ingenious friend, and master in chemistry, Mr. Wm. Higgins, (in the work already quoted,) emphatically exclaims, “‘ why not at once give soap? why “ not turn our attention to the mild mineral alkali?” With regard to the common alkaline carbonates in use, it may be observed, that the saturation is not complete; and that the uncombined portion of alkaline matter may still exert its 275 its specific powers, obseryable by its detergent quality; as has been so long since well explained by Mr. Kirwan. This explanation, however, could not extend to the potassa carbonata, or crystallized vegetable alkali, lately introduced, and with equal success. May I be permitted (notwith- standing its use as a test, and mon-deliquescence) to enter- tain some doubt of its complete saturation? for that, pre- pared with the most scrupulous care, still retains its alka- line taste, and acts, with energy, on the vegetable blues. The carbonic may, probably, be too weak an acid, to en- tirely annul its alkaline property, in any proportion that we can possibly unite them, in the solid state. I am in- formed by Mr. Kirwan, however, that this can be effected; but the saturation is temporary, and contiiues only during its most recent state. This we’ now accomplish, by me- chanical means, in the fluid one of our soda, and other mineral waters; where, indeed, the alkali may be consi- dered as in the super-carbonated state. Now, the success attendant also upon their exhibition, completely does away my former hypothesis; and we are left to conclude, that either the opinion, of their want of action, wpon gravelly and calculus matter, is unfounded, or that the animal éco- nomy may be possessed (among the multiplicity of its wonders) of some unknown chemical agency, whereby it may, in their course through the circulation, disengage their carbonic acid gas. This would not appear more extraordinary, than the for- mation of the different and most opposite secretions; such as 276 as bile, and milk, from one and the same fluid: nor than what we every day observe to pass, in the functions of the vegetable department of the organized kingdom. The salsola kali, salicornia, and other maritime plants, afforded to Chaptal’s analysis, in their early state of growth, muriate of soda: when the plant was more advanced, this salt, with excess of alkali; but in a full state of maturity, the same quite disengaged, and uncombined with muriatic acid. . Here, then, we have one of our most refractory Salts, and that resists the action of our greatest fires, com- pletely decomposed, by the vegetative powers of an hum- ble plant. - In this state of uncertainty, I determined upon a course of some experiments, which might throw some light on this subject; and go to explain how, or upon what principle, alkaline earths, or carbonates, become re- medies in those complaints: And here, again, I must bring to our recollection, that whatever retains the uric acid in a state of solution, whilst in the body, must pre- vent the formation of gravel, or calculus. matter of that kind. eae f And to begin with lime-water, so generally prescribed since the time of White. In this, the quantity of pure earth in solution (being only one grain in 700 of water) is so minute, and it is, withal, so readily decomposed, that we could not, a priori, expect much from its agency. On conversing, however, with my friend, Dr. Harvey, on this subject, (of whose professional acumen it is, unne- cessary to make mention here,) he observed, (with that strength 277 strength of reasoning peculiarly his own,) “ Whatever may “ be the result of your future inquiries, can you, for a “* moment, imagine, that physicians of the first eminence, “and of all nations, would still consent to tread in the “ path of empiricism, by persevering in the use of this “ remedy, if they were not retained in it, by the irresist- “ible evidence’ of a successful practice and observation? * or that the late Dr. Smyth, a gentleman of great’ dis- ““ cernment, and extensive knowledge, would, so generally ‘“‘ and promiscuously, prescribe lime-water, in gout and * gravel, if he were not satisfied of its efficacy, as well “as of the great similarity of these complaints?” ai EXPERIMENT I. To four ounces of healthy urine, was added one ounce of lime-water. A similar quantity of urine was set aside as a standard; both in close vessels: temperature varying from 60 to 75 degrees, being in August, 1799. In the ‘first, no sign of the slightest separation, or crystallization of uric acid, after three, five, or seven days. Some ob- servable in the standard, after the third day, which en- creased in quantity to the fifth. EXPERIMENT II. To the same quantity of urine, was added half an ounce only of lime-water, with the same appearances as- before. VOL. x3 Na No 278 No sign of uric acid after several days. The standard de- posited a few crystals, on the third morning. EXPERIMENT III. To the same quantity of urine, were added two drachms only of lime-water; which, though insufficient to neutralize the disengaged phosphoric acid, yet seemed as effectually to prevent the separation of uric acid, as the greater quan- tities employed in the former experiments. EXPERIMENT IV. To three ounces of the urine of a child, six years old, still warm, and subject to deposit gravel upon cooling, were added two drachms of lime-water; which effectually prevented all separation of this matter; whilst the standard precipitated, copiously, this saline substance, after three hours. EXPERIMENT V. To three ounces. of the same kind of urine as in the preceding, was added one drachm of lime-water: the re- sult the same as in the former. Some precipitation in the standard, as in the preceding experiment. When we consider the small proportion of lime kept in solution in water, and that the lime-water, used in my experiments, 279 experiments, was far from being recent, we must be asto- nished at the minute quantity, that proves sufficient to keep the uric acid in solution: but this wonder ceases, when we recollect, that the proportion of it, in the above quantities of urine, is extremely small, and that it is scarcely acid; as we may learn from the controversy that took place, between two such able chemists as Pearson and Fourcroy, on this subject. Finding, then, our com- mon lime-water exerting such powers, in preventing the separation or crystallization of this substance, it occurred to me, that much more might be expected from barytic lime-water, as containing a larger proportion of saline mat- ter in solution; and that, though, from its poisonous effects in the carbonated state, the internal exhibition would be ‘hazardous, yet it might prove an useful remedy, when in- jected into the bladder. But how uncertain are our appa- rently best founded theories, when not deduced from experiment ! : F EXPERIMENT VI. To three ounces of urine, was added one drachm of ba- rytic lime-water, which immediately seemed to decompose the whole, render it turbid, and give it the appearance of the urina jumentosa; for reasons easily and satisfactorily explained by Fourcroy, to whom I must refer. After two days, I was surprised to find some small crystalline matter adhering to the sides of the glass; and, upon examining - ; . wn 2 the 280 the copious precipitate from this re-agent, I found it blended with as much crystallized uric acid, as appeared in the standard. A repetition of this experiment, both since, and at that time, afforded the same results. Now, the strength of barytic lime-water is, to that of the com- mon, nearly as 13 to 1; the former keeping in solution, at the temperature 60 degrees, 13 grains to the ounce. Has the barytic, with all its superior energy, less affinity for the uric acid, than the calcareous earth? Or, does a superior affinity, to some other ingredients of the urinary compound, supersede its union to this? I regret, that the small quantity of stronthian lime-water, which I possessed, did not permit me to extend my in- quiries with it. Finding, then, that our alkaline earth of lime, in the weakest possible state of solution, and in the smallest pro- portion, effectually prevents the crystallization, or keeps in solution, the lithic acid of urine: if we only suppose, that it reaches the kidneys and bladder, in the smallest quan- tity, it must produce similar effects there, obviate the fur- ther formation of gravelly matter, or further accumulation of pre-existing calculous concretions of this kind. Let us now proceed to enquire into the effects of the pure and carbonated alkalies themselves. The action of the former being well known and acknowledged, I shall content myself with one experiment, and pass on to the latter. EXPERIMENT sR Wik. 5081s a4 boss F iG go1sl SviK { vit 1 To four ounces of the vyine. of a, child, dine a a gravel, :on, cooling, were added. ten drops, of the, aqua, kali puri of the shops. After seven ,days,. no ‘sign.,of,.separa~ tion: some observable in the standard, after some hours. 14 Mid DAE EXPERIMENT VIII. . r f fr } <1} to owy D yb ba oy Thay oO OSTA? OF To. gens ounces of urine;, batty added shee: Eo only of crystallized carbonate; of;,potash, the purity of which was ascertained by Dr. Perceval and myself; and, contain- ing, according to Mr. Kirwan, 1,23 grains of alkali. After several days, no appearance of, crystallized matter: some in the standard, after forty-eight hours. ; rye 5 " EXPERIMENT IX. ; \ To the same quantity of urine, were added two grains only of the same: with the like result. From the pure and carbonated, Jet us: now proceed to the super-carbonated and sub-carbonated states. EXPERIMENT, X. To three ounces of urine, in a well closed phial, was added half an ounce of the aqua mephitica alkalina, pre- pared 262 pared according to Dr. Faulkner’s proportions. No crys- tallized appearance, after seven days. This result we might well expect, from the relative large proportion of its al- kaline salt; having already seen equally good effects, from half an ounce only, of Kinsley’s soda earers containing a mere fraction of alkaline matter. EXPERIMENT XI. To three ounces of urine, were added two grains of the coiimon salt of! tartar’ of ‘the’ shops; containing, accord- ing to Mr. Kirwan, 0,82 of alkali. The same’ results,’ as’ in the former experiments, even after six. days. ‘PeRBRIMENT Xr OO 4k Having no pure mineral alkali, three grains of the common crystallized soda of the shops, containing, according to Mr. Kirwan, 0,64 of alkali, were added to four ounces of urine.’ The result ‘asin the’ former: which was equally produced, by two grains only; and, perhaps, would have been equally so, by one. Wishing to be more fully convinced, that the very large proportion of disengaged carbonic acid gas, in our soda waters, did not counteract the usual alkaline effects: EXPERIMENT 283 EXPERIMENT XIII. To four ounces of the urine of the same child, which was generally surcharged -with gravelly matter, I added half an ounce of -Kinsley’s soda water,;)in its full state of effervescence; the phial well corked, and removed jirito a cold cellar, temperature 42 degrees. After four days, nay, a week, nothing but the usual calcareous sediment, with- out an atom of crystallized, or otherwise precipitated uric acid, ; ' From the above experiments, then, we learn, that pure lime, in the state of lime-water, the pure alkalies, the sub- carbonated, carbonated, and super-carbonated, all prevent the separation of the uric acid, by uniting probably with, and retaining it in solution. That they should still exert their power, in the super-carbonated soda water, is rather singular: and we must suppose, that, in the temperature of. the human. body, this superabundant gas (which, for the greater part, is only retained by compression) would be disengaged, and leave the alkali to exert its usual pro- perties; and.so, I would presume, it happens. A half-pint of soda water was poured into a large glass, and exposed to the influence of the atmosphere, in a. tem- perature of from 60 to 75 degrees. After two days, it continued to turn litmus red, and only ceased to do so, at the end of three. But, in Experiment X. we find it in its full gazeous state, still possessing its alkaline influence on 284 on the uric acid; which-I would be disposed to attribute to its very weak union: to-the carbonic acid, in the fully carbonated and super-carbonated states; as well as to the very weak degree of acidity of! the ‘uric acid itsélfy render- ing the most!/minute portion of all ‘alkaline ‘matter suffi- cient to its!saturation, * However this may ‘be, it is obvious, that the extraordinary quantity’ of gas, ‘with which these waters are surcharged, is undoubtedly superfluous, and ‘may, probably, prove dangerous. “In gouty habits (so sub- ject to these’ complaints) there is always danger of: their inducing spasmodic affections of the stomach. This’ 'has frequently occurred: and if, to prevent it, we’ are ‘obliged -to add’ spirituous tinctures, and brandy, why not as well omit this super-saturation ‘at once, and: content’ ourselvés with that pleasing degree | of ‘it, which ler eines oe little that of saturation? yt DEB Nor have the -predisposed to ocepperplensy teat to apprehend. And, in these cases, we find our own physicians, ‘as well ‘as those ‘of the sister: kingdom, preferring carbonated pot- ash, or desiccated ‘soda. But, recollecting that I'am act- ing, on this occasion, the part only of the experimenter, I shall now proceed to consider, what the action of. these saline substances: may be, on the uric acid, iii ‘its coneérete -or ¢alculousistate; as well as on a few others of these con- -cretions; which, though of a different’ nature, are ‘of: fre- quent occurrence, and easy solubility. The nature of those employed “in the following. experiments; was always pre- viously ascertained and specified; they were also carefully weighed | 285 weighed and dried, both before and after immersion in their several menstrua. Dr. Percival, of Manchester, as well as others, having experienced the solvent power of the plain mephitic, or carbonated water, on urinary calculi, it was thought proper to repeat his experiments. EXPERIMENT I. A fragment of a calculus, weighing twenty-three grains, and of the uric acid kind, was suspended by a thread, for forty-eight hours, in Nooth’s apparatus, already nearly filled with highly impregnated aerated water, and still exposed to a stream of carbonic acid gas: temperature 58 degrees. When taken out, and dried, weighed, as before, twenty- three grains. EXPERIMENT II. A fragment of a calculus, of the same kind, weighing forty grains and three quarters, was suspended, as before, in Nooth’s apparatus, for forty-eight hours: temperature varying from forty to fifty-five degrees. On being taken out, and dried, was found to have sustained no loss. EXPERIMENT IIIf. An entire calculus, of a rough and sandy appearance, chiefly of the uric acid kind, but with some extremely OL. Xx. 00 - minute 286 minute intermixed particles of the ammoniacal magnesian phosphat, weighing fifty-two grains, was suspended, as be- fore, for forty-eight hours, in Nooth’s apparatus. ~After being taken out and dried, was found to weigh fifty-one grains and a quarter; so that there was here a loss of three quarters of a grain: undoubtedly, of the ammoni- acal magnesian phosphat. EXPERIMENT IV. Wishing to see, whether even increased temperature would add to the solvent power of carbonic acid, a frag- ment of calculus, of the uric acid kind, weighing: twenty- two grains, was immersed, as before, for forty-eight hours, in three ounces and a half of highly impregnated carbo- nated water, in a well closed phial, and laid on a sand heat, which did not exceed the temperature of 100 de- grees. After being taken out, and dried, the weight was found, as before, twenty-two grains. From these experiments, then, we may conclude, that ealeuli, of the uric acid kind, are insoluble in carbonated water; and that Dr. Percival, whose character as a philo- sopher, as well as a physician, deservedly stands so high, must have operated upon concretions of a different kind; more especially as, in his experiments, there was a loss of several grains, in only a few ounces of mephitic water; whilst none appeared in ours, though in several pounds of that 287 that fluid. He must have then operated upon some of a different and highly soluble kind. EXPERIMENT V. One half of a calculus, of the ammoniacal magpnesian _kind, weighing 100,5 grains, was suspended, as usual, for forty-eight hours, in Nooth’s apparatus: temperature 50 degrees. Upon being taken out, and dried, was found to weigh 92,63 grains; so that its loss amounted to 7,87, or rather more than seven grains three quarters. And here we have an explanation of the result of Doctor Percival’s experiments; by supposing that the calculi he employed must have been of this species: the extreme solubility of which, in so weak and innocent a menstruum, should ex: cite the earnest hope of our young gentlemen, in the sur- gical department, of effecting its solution, by injections of carbonated water into the bladder. To such safe trials they must be encouraged, by the pleasing consideration, that this kind forms a large proportion of the human uri- nary calculi. On these occasions, the water should not be too highly impregnated; lest the sudden expansion of the gas, under the human temperature, might excite the blad- der to reject it too quickly. This inconvenience, however, must be in part obviated, by the necessity of previously warming the injection, to about the temperature of 80 de- grees: a precaution never to be omitted. But to return to the alkaline earths and salts. 002 EXPERIMENT EXPERIMENT VI. One half of a uric acid calculus, was suspended for forty-eight hours, in four ounces of lime-water: tempera- ture as before. After being dried, was found to have lost seven grains three quarters; and the surface to be covered with a granular efflorescence, which, in drying, detaches itself. The calculus was so much softened, as to leave little doubt of its entire destruction, by a few more immer- sions. It was again suspended, for a month, in the same quantity of lime-water, in the temperature of the atmo- sphere only, without any renewal of the menstruum; when it was found to have lost twenty-four grains. Now, if the lime-water had been frequently renewed, and its energy as- sisted, by the standard heat of the human body, no doubt but it would have been entirely broken down, in a much shorter time. We find, then, lime-water, not only prevent- ing the separation of uric acid from urine, but acting powerfully upon it, in its most compact form. How well founded, then, were the experiments of Whyte, as well as the opinion of Doctor Smyth; and how little deserving the latter the obloquy of his contemporaries, for his predilec- tion to it. Now, this result, corresponding also with Scheele’s, points it out to us, as one of our most safe and active agents, when injected into the bladder, with the necessary precautions, And we must feel surprised, that no 289 no, attempts. of that kind have been made, since the time of Whyte.. EXPERIMENT VFi.. A fragment of calculus, of the uric acid kind, weighing seventy-nine grains and a quarter, was suspended, for for- ty-eight hours, im a mixture, consisting of. four ounces of distilled water, and twenty-five drops of the weak aqua kali puri of. the shops, which merely gave it an. alkaline taste. It was then placed on a sand heat: temperature varying, occasionally, from 60 to near 100 degrees. After being taken out, and dried, it weighed seventy-four grains and three quarters; so that the loss amounted to four grains and a half. This weak lixivium, it appears, then, operated upon it, acquired a yellow colour, a. sweet taste, and precipitated, with a few drops. of muriatic acid, a white sediment, easily recognizable, by the small, silky, needle-shaped, crystalline appearance, peculiar to the uric acid. EXPERIMENT VIII.. This, same fragment of calculus, after. being well washed, and dried, was again immersed; for forty-eight: hours, in a lixivium, consisting of only twenty drops. of agua kal puri to four ounces of distilled water, and under the same cit- cumstances. Upon being taken -out, and. dried, it was found 290 found to have lost four ‘grains’ and a quarter. The solu- tion was of a yellowish green colour, lost all alkaline taste» and precipitated, as before, with either the acetous or muriatic acid. EXPERIMENT Ix. A fragment of calculus, of the same kind, weighing ty AO grains, was suspended, ‘as before, for forty-cight hours, in a mixture, consisting» only of fifteen drops of the same alkali, to four ¢ ounces ‘of distilled water, which scarcely imparted an alkaline taste. After being taken out and dried, it was found to have lost one grain and three quarters; the specimen consisting chiefly of the external laminz, much more slowly acted upon. EXPERIMENT X. This same fragment, washed and dried, was again im- mersed, for forty-eight hours, in a similar lixivium, and under the like circumstances. The loss now amounted to nearly four grains; and, from this we learn, how con- siderably the energy of the menstruum is increased, by each succeeding immersion; so much so, indeed, that a few repetitions enable it to disunite the lamin, and cause them to crumble into a pulverulent state, easily voidable -with the urine. To the happy result, therefore, of this ex- periment, let me earnestly solicit the attention of our youne practitioners. ‘ EXPERIMENT 291 EXPERIMENT XI. As children are such frequent sufferers, Mr. Richards suggested the propriety of ascertaining, whether the alka- line influence might be weakened, by the addition of su- gar. One half of a calculus, of the uric acid kind, weigh- ing 185z grains, extracted by my friend Mr. Richard Dease, and (though under the most unpromising circumstances) with a dexterity and success, not to be exceeded by his late father, was suspended in a lixivium, consisting of eight ounces of distilled water, and twenty drops of weak aqua kali puri (partly aerated), and scarce imparting an alkaline taste. ‘To this were added thirty-six grains of su- gar, which were found adequate to sweeten it sufficiently, After remaining forty-eight hours, in a temperature, vary- ing from 55 to near 100 degrees, or a medium one of 74°, being dried and weighed, it was found to lose ten grains three quarters. The addition, then, of saccharine matter cannot diminish, but may add to the alkaline energy. EXPERIMENT XII. Ten grains of very pure crystallized carbonate of potash were dissolved in four ounces of distilled water. In this filtered lixivium was suspended a fragment of calculus, of the uric acid.kind, weighing seventy-two grains and a quar- ter, for forty-eight hours, on a sand heat, varying from 50 to 292 to 100 degrees (for the fire was not kept up during the night). Being taken out, dried, and weighed, it was found to have lost seven grains and a quarter. The solution had a yellowish green colour, different from the light yellow tinge of the pure alkaline ones. It also lost its taste, but without becoming sweet. A quantity of flocculent animal matter was separated, and the dissolved uric acid was, for the greater part, again precipitated, upon the mixture cooling, to the temperature of the atmosphere. “EXPERIMENT XIII. ‘The crystallized carbonate of potash, being generally prescribed, in the: proportion of one drachm to four ounces of water: in a similar mixture was suspended an euitre calculus, of a very compact, rough, and gritty appear- ance, weighing forty grains and a quarter. After remain- ing ferty-eight hours in the above temperature, it was ta- ken out, dried, and weighed, and found to have lost three grains three ‘quarters. ‘The solution here more’ highly co- loured than in the former: some spontaneous precipitation ; and an immediate one, on ‘the addition of a few drops of weak marine acid. We then find the vegetable alkali in the fullest state of saturation, with carbonic acid, that we can procure it, in the solid form, acting powerfully on these concretions, when assisted by degrees of temperature, even much inferior to that of the human _body. 2 Now, 295 Now, as to the mineral alkali, nature presents us with ‘similar, nay, more extraordinary results, in the mild, mi- neral, alkaline impregnation of the waters of Carlsbad in ‘Bohemia. Here are several springs, varying in tempera- ture from 114 degrees, to that of the Brudel, at 165°. According to Elliot, they contain, in the gallon, of aerated lime 36 grains; muriate of soda 48; aerated soda 102; vi- triolated soda 6 drachms; some minute proportion of iron, and a considerable carbonic acid impregnation. But Klap- roth rates the proportion of mineral alkali still higher. Of the lithontriptic effects of these waters, Springfield gives us a very surprising account indeed: founded, how- ever, upon numerous experiments, instituted upon the spot, by the immersion of many calculi, in the sources them- selves; where they were either entirely dissolved, or acted upon, with an energy that must appear incredible, if we did not consider the nature of the menstruum, its high temperature, and constant renewal, by the flowing of the stream. Nay, the urine of patients, who used these waters for a few days, was found to possess powerful lithontrip- tic effects; as appeared by the immersion of many calculi in it. For an account of these highly interesting experi- ments, too numerous for insertion here, I must beg leave to refer to his Treatise De Prerogativa Thermarum Caroli- narum, in dissolvendo Calculo Vesicea, pre Aqua Calcis vive. From these experiments, as well as the highly beneficial effects of these waters, taken internally, by the numerous calculous and gravelly patients, who frequent Carlsbad, he VOL, X. Pp establishes 294 establishes their superiority over the different alkaline and other remedies, hitherto in use; not excepting Whyte’s oyster-shell lime-water. Now, the lime in these being car- bonated, and only kept in solution by their highly aerated state, we can be at no loss, in those days, to attribute their superior agency to the alkaline impregnation, assisted by so high a temperature. Klaproth affirms, that a person, who drinks these waters, in the usual quantity, for twenty-six days, takes of mild mineral alkali 3913 grains, or 8 ounces, 1 drachm, and 13 grains; which amounts to two and a half drachms per day, besides the other saline ingredients. Doctors Rutty and Smyth, who gave us a valuable ex- tract from this publication, in the Memoirs of the Me- dical and Philosophical Society of this city, (now in the library of the Royal Irish Academy, but which, we have sincerely to regret, were never published, and are now dis- continued,) conclude their account by the following query. “ May not some alkaline lixivium be contrived by art, ** that would possess similar effects with these waters?” And has not this partly taken place, in the instance of our soda waters? But may we not make a nearer approx- imation, by a solution of the above specified proportion of mineral alkali, in the relative quantity of water, with the addition or omission of the carbonic acid, and the other saline ingredients, as may be thought proper; after- wards heating, however, each separate dose to 160 degrees? We find, then, the alkaline carbonates, in the great laboratory of nature, as well as in our experiments, exerting considerable oe 295 * considerable solvent powers upon these animal concretions, contrary to what has been hitherto supposed. EXPERIMENT XIV. Into a filtered solution of ten grains of salt of tartar, in four ounces of distilled water, were introduced two frag- ments of calculi, weighing seventy-four grains and a quar- ter. The mixture was set aside for forty-eight hours in a cool room; temperature varying, from 47 degrees at night, to 55 degrees im the day. After twelve hours it began to be coloured, and continued to be more so, until the tem- perature fell to 51 degrees, when a precipitation took place, and continued during the night; so that it appear- ed to deposit, at the temperature of 47 degrees, what was taken up at degrees somewhat exceeding 51°. These frag- ments, on being taken out, dried, and weighed, were found to have lost three grains and three quarters; the lamine disposed to crack, and the strata to separate and crumble. This weak lixivium, then, exerted much energy, even in a very low temperature. ; EXPERIMENT XV. _ A fragment of calculus, weighing seventeen grains three quarters, was immersed in a lixivium of similar’ strength ; but now exposed to a temperature, varying, from 51 de- grees at night, to about 95 degrees in the day. After Pp2 forty- 296 forty-eight hours, it was found to lose five grains and a half: a prodigious quantity, when we consider the small surface presented by this fragment, weighing only seven- teen grains three quarters. The solution, upon cooling, became turbid, as before, and precipitated a large pro- portion of the dissolved uric acid. EXPERIMENT XVI. A fragment of calculus, weighing forty grains three quar- ters, was immersed in four ounces of soda water for forty- eight hours, and exposed to a temperature, varying from 55 to about 100 degrees. Its loss amounted to one grain. A repetition of this experiment afforded nearly the same result; and demonstrates, that though the soda, in this su- per-carbonated state, still exerts some energy, on concre- tions of the uric acid kind, yet it is but feeble; and that these waters appear more capable of preventing their for- mation, than effecting their solution, when they once ac- quire the aggregate state. The same fragment, in a simi- lar quantity of soda water, in the temperature of from 50 to 55 degrees only, sustained no loss, after forty-eight hours. And here we have another proof of the necessity of seriously attending to the degree of temperature, in all researches of this kind. \ But it may be observed, as to the internal use of alka- line substances in particular, that their effects must be considerably weakened, upon their immediate admixture with 297 = with the urine: as the small quantity, that can be con- veyed there, must, in the first place, neutralize the un- - combined phosphoric acid, in all urine; the benzoic, in children’s; and decompose the ammoniacal and magnesian phosphats, in that of every period of life. It must be acknowledged, its efficacy is partly counteracted by these circumstances, which should never be overlooked, and al- ways taken into account, in practical application. Referring to Fourcroy’s instructive essay on this subject, Memoires of the National Institute, and Connoissances Chimiques, let us here once more appeal to the test of experiment. EXPERIMENT XVII. A fragment of calculus, weighing eighteen grains one quarter, of the uric acid kind, was suspended, for forty- eight hours, in an alkaline lixivium, consisting of four ounces and a half of recent urine, and twenty drops of a very weak, and partly aerated, caustic lixiviuam: medium temperature about 74 degrees. On’ being taken out, and dried, it was found to have lost one grain three quarters: a considerable quantity, from so small a specimen. To the filtered solution, were added a few drops of dilute marine acid; which, after a few minutes, precipitated a reddish crystalline matter, in a triple proportion of what generally occurs in the natural state of urine. From the above experiments, therefore, it appears no longer doubtful: First; that pure lime, even im the small ; proportion 296 proportion contained in lime-water; and. the. pure alkalies, in an extreme state of dilution, in temperatures, even some- what inferior to those of the human system; exert an ac- tive solvent power on, calculi of the uric acid kind... Se- condly; that the alkaline carbonates, under similar cireum- stances, are possessed of similar posers, though in am in- ferior degree. And Thirdly; that, by our having ascertained this point, we have removed a long established error, sub- ‘stituted a-discovery highly interesting to animal chemistry, and likely to be productive of|a more enlightened and suc- cessful practice, im the ‘treatment of these diseases. In these expectations we will appear to be the better founded, when it is considered, that, for want of entire specimens, (preserved here like the oriental bezoars of old,) we were obliged to operate upon fragments, presenting small surfaces. only to our solvents: that these last were neyer renewed during the course of the experiments, which would not have occurred in their application in the form of injections; as they should, in that case, be so often re- peated, and act, of ceurse, “with renewed energy: that, either taken internally, .or used in form of injection, the smallest proportion .of alkaline matter, in a great state of dilution, assisted by the human temperature, answers our purpose: and that the temperature, in our experiments, was never permanent, and might be rated at the, medium one of 74 degrees, Having now fulfilled the second object of this essay, I would no Jonger presume to trespass on the indulgence ogo of 299 of the Academy, if I were not actuated by the sanguine hope, of turning the attention of my surgical friends, to the humane consideration of obviating, as much as pos- ‘sible,: the most dangerous of operations, by the prudent application of a few-safe solvents, injected into the blad- der. How far they may succeed, with calewli of the uric acid kind, may be already conjectured, from the preceding experiments: but with those of the next most frequent occurrence, ‘there is much less difficulty to encounter, and every(reason to hope for a speedy and -safe result. The ammoniacto-magnesian phosphat is partly soluble in water; highly so,-in the carbonic acid, (as we have: already seen;) and, consequently, more’so, in the weakest possible acid impregnations that can be devised: nothing more’ being necessary, than the addition of as many drops only of weak muriatic acid, as will scarce impart an acid taste. But as precept should, in every imstance, be as mitch as possible assisted by experiment, I shall, for the encourage+ ment of the young practitioner, exhibit a few, on this very soluble species, the more willingly; as he has no assistance to expect from his professional books: these subjects being only treated of in Philosophical Transactions, Memoires of the National Institute, and a few other foreign chemical publications, if we except Whyte’s Treatise on Lime-water, to which 'we would willingly refer him: EXPERIMENT 300 EXPERIMENT XVIII. An entire calculus, of a reddish, gritty appearance, exter- nally, proved to consist of ammoniaco-magnesian phosphat, weighing forty-six grains one quarter, was suspended, for forty-eight hours, in a mixture, consisting of four ounces of distilled water, and ten drops of weak marine acid. After being taken out, and dried, it was found to have lost six grains three quarters. The mixture was whitish, lost its acid taste, and precipitated, on the addition of a few drops of fixed alkali, the ammoniaco-magnesian phosphat, under that beautiful crystalline form, so accurately described by Doctor Wollaston. ‘We will readily conceive, how much more the loss would have amounted to, in this case, in the short space of for- ty-eight hours, if the menstruum had been frequently re- peated, under the regular influence of human temperature. EXPERIMENT XIX. A fragment of the same species with the above, weigh- ing twelve grains, was immersed, for forty-eight hours, in three ounces of distilled water, without addition: tempe- rature from 60 to near 100 degrees. After being taken out, and dried, it was found to have lost one grain three quar- ters, became so friable as to crumble, and the solution to precipitate with a few drops of pure ammonia. ‘This spe- cies 301. cies, of calculus, therefore, is,soluble in water, at tempera- tures even inferior to that of the human: It is unnecessary I_should enter into a, further detail of experiments, made, upon calculi of the mixed kind, having the: uric acid, phos-~, phat of ammonia, and, ‘sometimes, though rarely, phosphat of lime, intermixed in their strata... Suffice it to say, that the very dilute marine, acid speedily takes up the earthy phosphats, leaves the Jaminz of the ‘uric acid bare and distinct, ready; to..crumble, ‘and, of} easy solution, in the: weakest alkaline lixiyia; -and: still, more so’in lime-water. A most important ghana in’ a practical point. of view. It would be trespassing too sale on the already tried indulgence of the.Academy, to go further into, the’ detail. | of the cireumstances necessary to be attended to, and ac- quainted, with, to insure. success in the application. of these principles.. ‘These are already tolerably well detailed, in the Connoissances Chimiques. To the gentlemen, ‘profes- sors in. the school of surgery, it more particularly belongs:. and, from the zeal.and, talents now: in full activity there, what may not be expected? Created; only the other day, by a Cleghorn, (a name as. deservedly’as universally re- vered ;) fostered, afterwards, by; the: anxious care and_ ta- lents of :Mr.'Dease} we find it already.artived at a. state of perfect, maturity,) and holding‘out, to the student, ad- vantages, no where to be rivalled, if indeed ‘equalled: and, . that nothing may be wanting, to’a complete medical,, as. well as surgical education, establishing a: chair ‘of botany, VOL. x. Qq supported 302 supported’ by the acknowledged abilities of Doctor Wade, both as a botanist and teacher. Frony tlie! above! experi- ments ‘and: observations, we may Shey to draw = fol- lowingi conclusionsi!) geived .dotl boxim oft te tluolso cou That acids, and acescent’ drinks’ on all Miedspcgvi fad to gravelly and calculous. ‘affections, by causing’! separa-” tion, and precipitation, of the native: wie acid of. rire! within the body. That’ all acids, ‘vegetable or -sisineral)\| nay, the native phosphoric acid’ of urine)’ ii exeestp are equally- productive of this effeet; : the’ tartaric; “perhaps,” somewhat moreso. ° That, onthe ‘other hand, we find! lime, both the fixed alkalies, pure as well as aerated, (even ’ inthe smallest proportions,) serviceable‘in ‘these disorders, byaniting’ with, and keeping in‘ solution, this acid’ sub+' starice:: "That they;' also; in thestallest proportions,” and‘ diluted state,’ ‘exert strong solvent’ powers’ on this’ acidy! ini) its: aggregate form of calculus; provided their action» be’ favoured by degrees of temperature approaching to ‘the human. That,’ under the same’ circumstance, contrary to what was generally supposed, the! carbonated, sub-carbos nated, nay; the super-carborated;’ exert similar influence,’ though in an inferior degree. That lime,. even in the small proportion it presents itself to us’ in lime-water isa. most ‘active and safe solvent of caleulij-of the tric) acid kind, and its: various combinations; as has' been‘ long ‘since ascertained by Whyte. That, weight for weight, it exceeds» even the caustic alkali, im any state of dilution that the latter can be applied to the’ living body. ‘Phat, finding’ four 303 _ four ounces; of |limie-water, icontaining only two grains three quarters, take up, or detach; seven grains three quarters, , _ from, a! very. compact calculus, we may be led to suppose this may arise, from its action on, the agglutinating me- dium; its affinity to, and. energy.on animal matter, being so well, known: and,.if so, may we not expect something, from its power .on the mulberry: calculus, our most. formi- dable enemy? ‘For, though it cannot touch the oxalt of lime, it may the cementing medium, with which it pecu- liarly abounds... 6) 40 For, the, application: of flies ‘eoklaked facts to useful purposes, I must, refer)to) my surgical friends, being all now possessed. of the necessary degree of chemical acquite- - ment; and I am happy to find this career already entered ,.on, ‘by my -friend. Mr,,Crampton,: who thas favoured. us with an analysis of,a pulmonary icaleulus, in the. Philosophical Transactions; and from whose’! professional, as well as sci- entific talents; wechave every thing:to expect, in fulfilling (even on this occasion) his duties asa teacher. ) Having now,endeavoured to accomplish the chief object of this Essay, which was,)/to establish experimentally a more icleatand;ijcomprehehsive: view, \of ithe mature of these ma- ladies, ‘and the remedies jemployed to combat) them, than ove shitherto: possessed; v1 .should not»have trespassed. fur- -ther-ion)-the) time ‘of; the Academy, were: it not properly suggested, by my jfriend,; Dr. \Clarke,ithat it; would be of importance to ascertain,: how) far! the facts and) notions, brought forward in it, may stand: confirmed or. contradict- Ae eq 2 ed, 304 ed, by the result of our practical application of them, in Simpson’s Hospital: an establishment . affording. the best and most extensive field of observation, of this kind, of any -in Europe, that of Luneville, perhaps, excepted. The benefit of this charity extends equally to the blind and gouty. In the year 1795; I found it to contain thirty- two of the latter: and, since that period, thirty-four have been admitted; in all sixty-six gouty “patients. Of these, the greater number have either complained of gravel, or passed it, without any previous or concomitant ineonve- nience: a circumstance which I had, every day, occasion to observe, whilst attending to the state’ of gouty urine. Among the blind and gouty, however, we may count about twenty-two, as specifically more afflicted: having occa- sionally complained of marked and distinct symptoms ‘of this disorder. Of these, we find sixteen among the gouty, -and six, only, among the blind. Now, as the severity of gout is uniformly diminished, nay, in many instances, the disease entirely removed, by a residence of a few years only, in the house; we must’ expect to find the same. take place, with respect) to gravel; to which it is so strongly and nearly connected. And this singular alleviation of both diseases we can only attribute to the influence of tempe- -rance, and a manner of living, very opposite to that of their former habits. The diet, in our house, consists’ of bread and milk, for breakfast and supper; beef or mut- ton, with table beer, for dinner; all of the best quality, and administered with the greatest propriety and: regula- rity ; 305 rity; whilst the introduction of ardent spirits is prohibit- ed, and sobriety enforced, by the strict discipline of the house. On the other hand, we find that, previous to their: admission, they were either addicted to intemperance, or in the habit, at least, of muddling in public houses; ‘where, after a libation with porter, they indulged in the free use of acidulated punch, (the constant nocturnal practice of our middling tradesmen and shop-keepers, who furnish the greatest proportion of our patients). The keeper of a por- ter-house, of considerable resort, informs me, that, to please the generality of his customers, he finds it necessary to add the juice of an entire lemon to about two quarts of punch; and that, from this circumstance, he would have expe- rienced a considerable diminution of his profits, if he did not occasionally substitute cream of tartar, or the dilute sulphuric acid: an innocent and safe practice, in his opi- nion. Now, so satisfied are our patients, of the pernicious effects of acids of all kinds, that we find many of’ them refuse to make use of our table beer, during the summer months; through the apprehension of its acescent ‘quality, (as was before observed;) and which continued to be the practice of Hewson, Khensk, Clapham, and others, for years back: nor do our present two greatest sufferers, Sing and Cox, venture on it, at any season, but with the’ greatest caution. ~ “ Pir ‘To a removal, then, from the former occasional causes, we may attribute no small share of the alleviation of Hi TIOg Go those \ 306 those. ,diseases;which, takes place..with us: a practical ob- servation, that, cannot be too generally known. But to return to my subject., On the slightest appearance of gra- velly symptoms, unconnected with fever, or mflammatory tendency of the,-urinary system, our patients have recourse to,an.alkaline medicine, the gravelly pills, (as they term them;). which. consist. of desiccated soda, in the most con- venient form for hospital practice, as well as most suited to gouty stomachs. Of.this, (as. first advised by Beddoes,) one drachm,, with the addition of a few grains of capsi- cum, or drops of essential oil, and the necessary quantity of hard soap, or extract, is made into twenty pills. Of these, from three to six, or more, are taken in the twenty- ‘four hours; and are found sufficient, not only to alleviate or, remove these complaints, but even to render the inter- ference of the physician but seldom necessary. We have had -also occasion to remark, that several of our patients, induced by their marked beneficial effects, carried these pills about them, so as to have occasional recourse to them, without much attention to either dose or number. . To this practice, then, we would be disposed to attri- bute,,the very pleasing and interesting consideration, that, among so many gravelly patients, there has not occurred, in the course of ten years, a single operation of lithotomy ; nor has the catheter, even in the hands of our expert and able surgeon, Mr. Macklin, been able to discover the smallest occasion for it. We could therefore, have no opportunity 507 opportunity’ of ‘ascertaining the efficacy of injections: into the bladder, as recommended by Whyte, Foureroy, and myself. ° I shall conclude by observing, that it would be interest- ing, to have it in our power to extend these researches, to’ the urine of those, who live habitually on different ali- ment’ and drinks, particularly of the acescent kind: as well as to that of those, who drink waters, with mine- ral alkaline impregnations. ° But. this’ desirable object can be only obtained, by’ the’ concurrent exertions and atten. tion of gentlemen of the Faculty, in different countries'and situations. In private practice it is not to be expected: for here, wherever experiment is surmised to be the ob- ject, mistrust and suspicion take place of professional’ con- fidence. ‘The use’ of the nitric acid, in our veneréal hos- pital, I hoped, would’ afford’ some useful’ facts, as tov its effects, wpon the saliné! contents of urine; the uric’ acid in particular. But I had not, as yet, sufficient leisure for that! eriquirys! nor could ‘T, hitherto, obtain the urine’ of those using it, with all the circumstances, necessary to en- able nie, dt this moment, to draw any direct conclusions, from my examination of it. Ti many instances, a morbid state of the! ‘urinary system (the urethra’ in particular) took place. In’ otters, the ‘combined! effects’ of ‘mercury inter- fered: and in all, no ‘certainty: of ‘its. not being ‘blended with the urine of others, not using this acid. I could not, however, help observing, that the few specimens, sent to me, agreed in one particular, viz. their exceeding very little, 308 5) little, if at all, the usual healthy standard ofacidity. This. - circumstance must excite our attention the more forcibly, when we consider, that two drachms of nitrous acid, nay, sometimes three, diluted’ in the proportion of one pint of water to each drachm of acid, were taken daily; whilst, on the other hand, a few drops of the acid elixir of vi- triol, or tincture martis in sp. salis, nay, the weak: ve- getable acids, and cream of tartar, persevered in for a few days, impart an additional degree of acidity to the urine. Would not this observation, (if founded),, conjoin- ed with the easy decomposable nature of the acid itself, and, its action on animal matter, induce us to lean to the opinion of those, who have already asserted, that this acid is partly decomposed in the system, imparts its oxygene to it; and that, perhaps, to a degree, capable of annul- ling or destroying its properties as. an acid? And it may be here further remarked, in confirmation of such notion, that those gentlemen, most conversant with it here, as well as most capable of judging, entertain strong doubts of its supposed diuretic effects; allowance being made, for the necessary quantity of its watery vehicle. If it be, then, truly deoxyginated in the system, why be deterred by its failure, as a radical cure of syphylis, from extending our trials with it here, to other chronic diseases, as they have already done, in India? 309 I have, in the» former pages, expressed a wish, that physicians should attend to the influence of acescent ali- ments and drink, upon the state of urine of those who habitually used them; as well as of alkaline matters, upon that of such as occasionally must’ have recourse to these substances. For it is obvious, that observations and expe- riments, of this kind, must be more decisive, and less sub- ject to lead us into error, than the most ‘accurate that could be ‘devised, upon: this, or any other of the human fluids, when once excreted out of the system, and no longer ‘acted on, ‘by ‘the powerful ‘agency of the principle of life itself. ; : ' This desirable object, I now find, has been, in part, al- ready fulfilled, by the industry and ‘ability of Mr. Alex- ander Philip Wilson, who, in a publication on ‘the Remote’ Causes of Gravel, published in Edinburgh, so far back as! . 1792, and dedicated to Doctors Black and Monro, (but which I have to regret, only latterly fell into my hands,) details a number of interesting experiments, made upon himself and others. The result of a few of these, as not’ only highly important’ int themselves, but as naturally con- nected with mine, instituted out ‘of the body, I must re- quest the indulgence of the Academy briefly to relate. From his first experiment, upon himself, it appears, that~ the natural: deposit of uric acid, ‘from a’ given quantity of his urine, whilst living, as usual, on a’ diet of vegetable and animal matter, amounted to one grain and a half; VOLLA MEd ae RY) io but 310 but was increased to three grains and a half, upon eating four lemons in the twenty-four hours. From the second experiment, upon a healthy boy, et. 15, living upon an acescent diet, of bread, milk, sugar, sour cream, and honey; that the natural deposit, varying from three quarters of a grain, to one grain and a half, totally disappeared, upon the use of a diet chiefly ani- mal; and was only observable, where indigestion of the acid kind supervened upon so unusual and unnatural a regimen. The third experiment, we find merely corroborative of the furmer. But, from the fourth, as well as some others, we learn, that even acid ingesta, or lemon juice, where the action of the skin is vigorous, and assisted by exercise, contribute very little to the increase of the uric acid de- posits of urine; and from this and other experiments, insti- tuted upon himself, as well as others, while under the in- fluence of sudorific medicines, he concludes, that the uric acid passes off, (in part at least,) by the skin, under the circumstances already mentioned. From the fifth, on the same boy, that, whilst living for twenty-four hours, chiefly on beef and salt fish, (though with an allowance of small beer and potatoes,) no deposit of uric acid took place; but, upon turning over, for the same interval of time, to bread, milk, apple-dumplings and sugar, it amounted to one grain. ) From the sixth experiment, upon a healthy boy, et. 20, that, living entirely on vegetable matters and milk, and eating 314 eating three lemons im the day, a deposit of two grains of uric acid took place; which entirely disappeared, upon his omitting the lemons, and living chtefly on animal food. From the seventh experiment, on the same person, that a diet of animal food, for forty-eight hours, was produc- tive of no deposit; but amounted to half a ‘grain, upon living, during the same interval, upon a diet, chiefly ve- getable, with the addition of three lemons. I shall finally conclude with the result of his tenth ex- ‘periment, upon a young man, et. 19, in good health. Here the natural deposit, of one grain, was increased to two, by eating one pound and a half of apples only. In confirmation of the result of this experiment, I ‘beg leave to add, that, in the course of my-attendance upon chil- dren, I had often occasion. to. observe, that this acid ex- cretion was, considerably increased, by ihe: use. of - grapes, persevered in for a day or tivo ‘only. We may now, therefore, presume to- ‘asserts ‘from the medical history of this disease, as delivered in the first part of this essay, as well as from experiments, instituted in, and out of, the body; that acids, and acescent in- gesta, may be considered, as remote causes of gravelly complaints. ny 3 © to S : ge Lito . arr) fo} Oo ~~ ERRATA. —)ea— ranrral ir ont pale W Féin tHe top, for CALCULUS read CALCULOUS. — 3,,from the bottom, for Insipidity read .Insipid. =< 6; , for ammonico read ammoniaco. 9, - for ammenico read ammoniaco, - 3, from the top, for calculus read calculous: 7, from the bottom, for Beverovie read Beverovic. 4, » for carabonates read carbonates, 3 , for excreated read excreted. — 10, » for lithic read uric. © — 3, from the top, for nitrous read nitric. aL — '—. 4, from the bottom, for deoxyginated read deoxygenated, = POLITE LITERATURE. VOL. X. , A Baty? « ig 4g ay < he terre 7 ‘ : 4 conection ESSAY ON THE QUESTION “ ARE THE ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF THE POLITE “ ARTS, IN ANY COUNTRY, CONNECTED WITH, ** AND DEPENDING ON, THE POLITICAL STATE OF “ THAT COUNTRY?” Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, And every conqueror creates a muse. é WALLER. BY WILLIAM PRESTON, ESQ. M.R.I.A. ——=189 06a ‘ READ, MARCH 4h, 1805, Tue present question, proposed by the Royal Irish Aca- demy, is grand and comprehensive; and includes various discussions, bearing on, and influencing some of the most important interests of society, and most interesting topics of polite literature. At the same time it is very difficult of solution, from the multitude of enquiries, to which it jeads, and the extent of literary research, which it demands. I state these difficulties, not by way of enhancing the merit of this Essay, but to bespeak the indulgence of the reader, to its defects. It is not easy to return a precise answer to the present question; because the theoretical tendency, and natural a2 influence 4 influence of governments are controlled, and counteracted, by collateral causes; in such a degree, that reasonings, from general principles, are opposed by facts; and no rule can be drawn from abstract reasoning, to which history does not instantly suggest some striking and remarkable objection. These collateral controlling causes are climate, religious and moral institutions, the temper, genius, and characters of particular individuals. Thus it may: happen, that a despotic government, un- favourable in itself (as we shall see, in the sequel of this Essay) to every species of cultivation, and liberal improve- ment, may be adorned, in the most eminent degree, with the fine arts, and become the residence of opulence, ele- gance, and commerce. But this-effect must be ascribed to the influence, and peculiar character of individuals; as, for instance, of Augustus Cesar; of some dynasties of thé Egyptian, Persian, and Moorish princes ; of Pope Leo X., and of Lewis XIV. While the inductions, which might be drawn from history, may be, sometimes, at variance with the conclusions of general theory, and the conclu- sions: of general theory may be opposed by objections, drawn from history: yet, when the subject comes to be duly examined, this seeming contrariety will demonstrate a perfect uniformity of principle; and the theory will be confirmed by the very circumstances, which, at first sight, seem to be exceptions. I shall endeavour to maintain the affirmative of the question, by considering what is meant by the expres- sions, 5 sions, “political’ state; ‘and, afterwards, by, shewing the ne- céssary’ influence of certain forms of government, and other political circumstances, on the fine arts.. I, shall next con-_ sider, how certain great historical events, by changing the political relations ' of countries,;; and influencing the -state of society; have, at the same time, influenced, the, state of these arts. Lastly, I shall adduce a few striking facts, from the history ‘of the arts themselves. 2o"The expression} political state of a country, is exceedingly ‘omprehensive.’It extends, not’ only, to;the particular form ‘Of government) in sahy: given -country,. and to the degree ‘of civil liberty, which its inhabitants enjoy; but,, also, to other’ circumstances, influencing the well-being, the feel- ings, and‘ character »of.;a: nation as. extent of territory, “commerce, foreign relations.:;:If, this isa fair explanation ‘of the phrase, political stdtey it: may be seen, what a vast “field of discussion Is cable ay the question pro- ‘posed. > ~5 But, I‘ trust,: the narrow | Himitss bs inal an Essay of @this nature is necessarilye:circumscribed, will, concur, with ‘the scanty information, and) humble talents of the writer, to’ plead his excuse,'ifor the imperfect execution of the ‘task, proposed by the Academy.. Among the political | scr die ofa country, the ~form of: government has the: greatest influence on, the, cha- ‘yacter and‘temper of ‘the nation, and the destiny. of the arts. But there are collateral circumstances, which may imperiously control the genius and: tendency of govern- ment, 6 ment, or even dictate what form the government shall assume. Some of these are natural and permanent; others are accidental and transitory. The former are, soil, cli- mate, and position, with respect to other nations and coun- tries: the situation, whether continental or insular, mari- time or inland. The latter are, prevalence of religion, ta- lents of a ruler, character of neighbouring nations. In the early stages of society, where the mind of man is little cultivated, or varied, by institutions; his desires are simple, and easily satisfied: he is not many degrees removed from the mere animal: his gratifications are mostly of the sensual kind: his artificial wants are few and trifling; and the arts, which minister to them, are proportionably rude, and, comparatively speaking, insigni- ficant. Such is human nature, in the stages of the war- rior and hunter. The rude decorations of their armour, the trophy of victory; the song, that rouses the warrior to battle, celebrates his atchievements in fight, or attends him to the tomb, when his breath has fled; the hymn, that ac- companies seed-time and harvest, that praises the Gods for their bounties, or deprecates their wrath by prayer; these, it should seem, are the only tribute, that the sturdy and rough children of the heroic ages deign to levy, from the fine arts. The pastoral age may require somewhat more. Ease and quiet, and a state between labour and rest, pro- ducing a relaxation of mind, with a sufficient degree of bodily health and strength, dispose men, more power- fully, in this state, than in the heroic, to the union of the sexes. 7 sexes. Hence arise the passion of love, the solicitude to appear amiable,* the desire of pleasing, and being pleased. To satisfy this desire, the fine arts are called in aid. The dance,is\led; the song, the strains of the shepherd’s pipe, are heard im every grove. , The hand of the lover, guided by. passion, attempts, to pourtray the features, that have captivated his. soul, and remain imprinted in his, heart. Hence. results a more diligent, cultivation, a more extend- ed use, and a more exquisite relish of the fine arts. The heroic, hunter, . and. pastoral states, gradually settle, into the elaborate and. complex forms of civil government; which, in) time,. supersede: that, sort of family rule, that -patriar- chal, or despotic form: of government, which universally obtains, among the primeval) races of men; a, form of go- ernment naturally growing out of their original state, and well suited to. the simplicity of their early conceptions. » What are called the fine arts, arise, from the exertions of the human talents, to multiply the enjoyments or com- forts of life.. They..are the objects of those appetencies, which prevail, in. a,more perfect state. of society, and a more cultivated period of the human intellect; and are the consequence of}a satiety of the enjoyments, which are merely necessary to the preservation of the, human, race. It is. this constant endeavour of man, to encrease. his com- - forts, and enjoyments, that. gives activity .to his, existence, and furnishes employment, to,his various faculties, of me- Wehaeien a oh, comers, * See Essay on Amatory Poetry, in the preceding volume. 8 mory, invention, combination, reasoning; to ‘the physical powers, which are momentarily put in action, at their! te- quisition; and to his feclings, also, of love, hate, joy, and gratitude. Various moral causes, therefore, : will concur, to render these arts more or less necessary to the happi- ness of men; and to pfoduée’a more or less successful exercisé of them. The one is not always so much’ the necessary concomitant of’ the other, ‘as we might expect. It does not follow, that, because mén pursue with eager- ness ‘the fine arts, and find them necessary -to their happi- ness, they shold excel in them. “We find inveterate scrib- blers, in poetry: execrable performers, in music: and mise- rable daubers, in painting; who delight themselves, as much as they ‘annoy the rest of thé world. The villas and im- “provements ‘of many a citizen, and many another person, with ‘a vulgar taste, may shew’ us, that an ardent love for the arts, may not always be joined bag a true taste for exercising or employing them. “The successful cultivation of the jine arts, requires many combined ' particulars, asa foundation; a happy disposi- tion ofthe human’ mind, a ‘desire to be pleased, a cul- tivation of the human intellect; and a full possession of all its powers—memory—taste—fancy—judgment—teason ; and the attainment of knowledge, to profit by the dis- " coveries of past times, to perform cértain ‘works; whether thental or pliysical, with certaintyand ‘précision, and With the ‘least possible labour, delay, and expence. In this chiefly consists the difference, between the efforts of po- lished 9 lished; and learned nations, and those of people in a more early stage of society. ‘The productions of the lat- ter may, perhaps, shew more genius, but excellence in them is more rare; and they seldom exhibit accuracy and correctness. In reducing excellence to principle, consists the utility of criticism, and systems of rules, for exercis- ing the fine arts. In some stages of society, certain feel- ings will peculiarly predominate: these will call for some displays of the ine arts, in preference to others; and will also enable men to exercise those arts more successfully. Thus, poetry, and music may be more cultivated, and with, greater success, in one stage of society than in ano- ther. Heroic poetry, and the graver lyric, may be the fa- vourites and the ornaments of one stage of society; love- poetry, the drama, and satire, of another. But, in a gene- ral view, and, abstracting from particular and local circum- stances, all the jine arts will be most valued, most culti- vated, and carried to the greatest perfection, where hu- man society is in the most advanced and _ perfect state: that is to say, where man is in the fullest and freest en- joyment of. the exercise of all his faculties; and where those faculties.are improved and cultivated, in the highest degree, by a*course of education. Man will not apply much to the gratification of artificial wants, while he is besieged by those which are natural and real...He. will not pursue, or even understand, the refined luxuries and gratifications of the mind, while he is sunk, and engrossed by those which are merely sensual. He cannot cultivate VOL. X. B the 10 the fine arts to the best effect, unless, previously, his fa- culties are fully cultivated. They cannot be cultivated, but by a good education, of precept and example; there- fore they cannot be duly cultivated, unless the form of government is good: that is to say, free. Or, supposing these faculties fully cultivated, man cannot exercise them, with the greatest advantage and proficiency, if this exer- cise of them is interrupted by fear, and restrained and fettered by the constant influence of a tyrannical and jea- lous government. Thus it will be seen, that, of neces- sity, the progress and relative prosperity, or decline of the fine arts, must be very much connected with the preva- lence of particular forms of government. Nations, as well as individuals, have particular charac- ters, dispositions, and temperaments; as appears, by what the ancients have told us, of the Thracians, the Beoeotians, the AZolians, the Spartans, and the Asiatics. "These pe- culiar characters and temperaments are to be ascribed, partly, to forms of government, and education: partly, to the influence of religion: (if we are not rather to con- sider that as a part of education:) partly, to the force of climate; to which, though I would not allow such a won- der-working predominance, as is done by Montesquieu, I would still attribute great ferce. It is evident, that the preference of particular branches of the fine arts, and the happy cultivation of them, will result much from the na- tional character and temperament. For instance, among a people, mild, amorous, gay, and fond of pleasure, such as 1k as. were the people of Ionia, much time will be devoted to amusement; and men will cultivate the lighter strains of poetry, particularly erotic poetry, and the softest and most luxurious modes and measures of music. The acute and subtle character of the Arabians, inflamed and subtil- ized by the influence of a. burning sun, under which they lived, led them to intricate metaphysical disquisitions; platonic conceits and refinements, in poetry; florid figures, in eloquence; and elaborate conceits, and far-fetched or- haments, in architecture. Here, then, is another aspect, under which the political cireumstances of countries’ are’ to be considered, with respect to the growth and prospe- rity of the fine arts. We are not to consider: those wonderful phenomena, the poems of Homer, as forming an exception to the general principles, which may be laid down, respecting the state of the fine arts, in a particular stage of society. They are standing miracles, in the history of the human mind; since! they contain notices and views, poetic beauties, and va- rious traits of refinement and knowledge, which should seem to belong to a stage of society, much more advanced and perfect, than that in which we know they were pro- duced. Another aspect, under which the political cireum- stances of a country may be considered, is its influence, with respect to morals. It is obvious, that certain forms of government are most favourable to morals. For exam- ple; the republican, the principle of which is virtue, incul- cates strictness of morals, and a love of justice, with a , B2 spirit 12 spirit of equality. It is equally obvious, that there is an intimate connexion between purity of morals, and a true and refined taste, which must be accompanied by purity of mind, dignity, and elevation of sentiment, a love of decorum, symmetry, grace, beauty, and good order. It is evident, that such a spirit is an admirable preparative for great exertions, not only in active life, but in the fine arts: that it tends to treasure up the stores of exalted con- ceptions, of great and magnificent ideas, from whence the poet, the painter, and the sculptor, derive the wonders of their respective arts. An imitation of the Divinity will impress the mind with divine thoughts and notions: and a refined taste in conduct, an abhorrence of the low, the base, and the little, will lead to a refined taste in compo- sition; a feeling of the good, the great, and the fair.. The characteristic of this will be, a noble and divine simpli- city, a true and unaffected grandeur, not of tumid words, but of noble sentiments; a rejection of sordid and puerile conceits, of florid and affected ornaments. On the other hand, where corruption and vice predominate; where the lust of gain, and the rage of pleasure, bear sway; in pro- portion as the mind is corrupted and depraved, the taste is vitiated. All the forms and appearances of things, then, are distorted into error, by the gross and pestiferous atmosphere, in which virtue cannot breathe. All our views of life and conduct are inverted: all our notions are con- founded: false measures of estimation and dishonour are introduced: the basest and most unworthy pursuits are followed 13 followed with the greatest avidity; while the most digni- fied and truly interesting ‘objects are’ neglected and con- temned, or ‘even reprobated and vilified.’ Where luxury and corruption of morals universally prevail, frivolous and contemptible amusements, and base and sensual gratifica- tions, will take place of refined pursuits, and elegant plea- sures. Horace complains, that, even in his time, in the Augustan age, this began 'to'‘be the case among the Ro- man knights, the most fashionable part of a Roman au- dience: *migravit jam ab aure voluptas, ad incertos oculos et gaudia wana. Thus,’ impure pleasures, and’ frivolous amusements, particulaly gaming, will supersede the refin- ed, the intellectual enjoyments, which the fine arts afford. They will do more: by depraving the general mind, and vitiating the public taste, they will introduce a corrupt and despicable style, into ‘all the productions of the fine arts. If these arts are still called for,.by the vanity; the luxury, and prodigality of the age, they will become ve- nal and sordid; they will endeavour to conform to the miserable taste of the ignorant, and the’ profligate indi+ viduals, who pay and patronize ’'ithem) Nauseous flat- tery, trivial conceits, false wit, tumid and: inflated elo- quence, extravagant and ridiculous. attitudes, will become their characteristic marks. The poet, the painter, the sculptor, and the musician, will be bribed, to prostitute their arts; to stoop to the most degrading tasks; to be- tts come * Epist. I, Lib, I. ad Augustum. 14 come the panders' of vice, and’ corrupt) the: rising gene- ration, by perpetuating. the, monstrous images of the ex- cesses and enormities of their shameless and brutal patrons. Propertius. inveighs, witha truly poetical spirit, »invigo- rated by honest indignation, against the Jicentiousness of his, time: and yet the; Romans had then travelled but half way in the road of depravity: We must not think, that. it; was merely through the baleful effects of despotism, (though that had undoubtedly a great share,) that poetry and eloquence declined, as they did, at Rome, after the .dewnfal. of republican govern; ment. We are to attribute this base and melancholy change, as much, at. least, to the corruption of morals, and the depravity of the Roman people, as to the op- pression of the government.. The satires of Juvenal, (making every allowance. for poetical exaggeration, and the rage of a man, who seems to: haye beem spited at. the world, by neglect and. misfortunes,) give a dreadful pic- ture of the general and unbounded profligacy, which per- vaded all classes of people, in his time. The prevalence ~ of corrupt and dissolute manners, the reign of luxury; avarice, and prodigality, conjoimed, will depend much on the political circumstances of the country, the commercial relations, the extent of empire, the riches, the possession of foreign colonies. Hence we find it is, that the true poetical spirit has declined, in these modern times. Hence I should not be much disposed, notwithstanding the great professions of the French government, and its literati, to augur 15 augur, any great proficiency towards excellence ‘in the Siné arts, while the morals\of the people remain so profligate as they are at present.[t is, withy concern and pain; that a friend) to: literature observes -the paucity of ideas’ and multitude..of. words,» the: trite; and flimsy productions, which \oceupy too! much: space; in: the’ volumes’ of thé National : Institute.) This, however, cannot. justly be‘im- puted, either to the: French nation, who ‘are! endowed, by nature, with. ‘talents, and \activity in employing them; beyond) most! people; or!to the: presént goveriiment of France; ‘or yet to the revolution: nor ‘does vit ‘tend ‘to ‘ene tradict \the assertion, that a’ reptiblican® form of governs ment’ is: peculiarly favourable!)to: the fine lirixy and! the exertion of genius. «It is! owing? tothe: want ‘of! education -in. the present generation; to: the poison of ‘unparilleled frivolity, and corruption*; of manners; When a State sinks into luxury. and degeneracy ; | thougl' the’ artificial wants encrease,: and,| of ‘course, the . preater’ sums! are employed to feed them; less:éxpenditure’is allowed | to «the encou- ragement of. the fine arts. The: passion -of''gaming fre. quently swallows up. every other expensive) pursuit. Juye- nal mentions the rage for gaming, which prevailed. in his. tame: “ positd sed luditui ared.” This horrid passion, which seems to prevail chiefly among’ the most savage and bar barous nations, (such were the Gauls, in’ the times of Cree sar, and the. Germans, ‘as. described by Tacitus,) and the AVOS TO eiltOi Thost -* See a late entertaining work—Paris’ as #'was and is, 10 elit. 16 most, effeminate and) corrupted: ):from. the ‘same’ ‘cause, a mind vacant of ideas, incapable of good, devoid of. ele- gance and refinement, wholly engrosses the mind, ‘to the exclusion, of other, objects: or, if room: is'spared for other enjoyments, they are the pleasures! of: the» table, idle ex- pense,, fantastic extravagance, »and_ tasteless )magnificence. Dress, toys, baubles, gluttony, .now consume the sums, which. were formerly, expended,);by a» national opulence, under the control of taste;»on the valuable. productions of painting, sculpture, and architecture.,.; Even: theo go- vernments, of }:countries, take':aclead..in these “frivolities; and,, by following;and pendants, they were used to resist: the will, and) despise the resentment of their sovereign: they are led to commit their persons into: the ‘hands of the monarch, in a state like that of hostages. Jt) is said, that'the!court of Vienna* practises this. policy. at present, to ensurerthe dependency G 2 of * See ‘Townson’s Travels in Hungary. 52 of Hungary, of whose inhabitants it is extremely jealous; because the people anciently had formidable and extensive rights, and a great liberty; -and still have retained a fond remembrance of them, and shewed a disposition to claim and assert them. The nobles have vast possessions; and a power, which, if they*acted in unison, might prove fatal to their connexion with Austria. It, therefore, has stu- diously endeavoured at accomplishing the ruin and subjec- tion of the Hungarian nobility; by attracting them to court, and implicating them in heavy expenses. *Henry the Third endeavoured to practise the same artifice, with respect to the French nobility of his time; and to engage them, by his example, in frivolous pursuits, and inordinate pleasures. He fell the victim of his own artifice. His vi- gour was relaxed, his understanding clouded; he sunk into a premature debility, and impotence of mind and_ body; while, at last, he pursued that from inclination, which, at first, he practised from policy. The spirit, which thus originates in the sovereign, and those immediately about him, is diffused through the na- tion; affects every individual with the poison of luxury, and disposes the people to expense in clothes, equipages, furniture, the pleasures of the table and amusements. Hence, an universal patronage will be afforded to all the arts, which minister to luxury and amusement; to various manufactures, which produce elegant superfluities, and flatter * See Hume’s History of England, and Davila, Guerre Ciyili di Francia. 53 flatter the artificial wants. Thé love of pleasure will de- mand, the disposition to expense will remunerate exertions, in various branches of the jine arts, as subservient to ma- nufactures, as contributing to the accommodation and gra- tifications of luxurious men, as furnishing or improving the means and modes of amusement. Stich are painting, sculp- ture, architecture, music, and certain branches: of poetry, particularly the drama. Love and gallantry will prevail, and supply subjects, while they afford encouragement to other branches of poetry. The poet will thrive, and be at ease, under the patronage of a splendid and opulent court. The free and pleasurable intercourse of the sexes will con- tinually furnish new occasions of resorting to the muse,; and new incitements to excellence. “ As- riches; (says “ Montesquieu,*) by the very constitution of monarchy, are unequally divided, there is an absolute necessity for luxury: were the rich not to be lavish, the poor would starve. It is even necessary here, that the expenses of the opulent should be in proportion to the inequality of fortune; and that luxury should encrease in proportion, and grow more and more extensive, as it arises from the labourer to the artisan, the merchant, the magistrate, the nobility, to the great officers of the state, to the very prince: otherwise, the nation is undone.” The re- public and monarchy both encourage the fine arts: the re- public, in the spirit of parsimony; the monarchy, in the spirit 66 sé 66 “cc 6c * Spirit of Laws, Book VI, chap. iv. Eng, Trans, 54 spirit of luxury: the republic, in the spirit of public mag- nificence; the monarchy, in that of private expense: the republic, by the elevation of mind, and the correctness of taste, to which it gives birth; the monarchy, by the love of pleasure, which it encourages: the republic uses the fine arts as means of ambition, and engines of government; the monarchy, as ministers of those indulgences, and pleasura- ble enjoyments, which it is its policy to promote. The jine arts, which are respectively cultivated, in a republic and monarchy, have always differed, in conformity with the different character and principle of the two governments. The first are more noble, severe, and exalted; the others more light, graceful, and pleasurable: the first, connected with action, serious occupation, and the administration of public affairs; the other,» resting in mere amusement, and much connected with the gratification of the senses.* It * The kingly government of the Jews may be considered as a limited monarchy ; being governed; partly by the code of the Mosaic law, and partly by the great power and credit of the hierarchy. The reign of Solomon, which was Jong and glorious, may be regarded as the Augustan age of the Hebrews: and what we know of it may serve to shew the connexion between the political state of the country, and the progress of the fixe arts. The prosperity of the Jewish nation, at this period, not only enabled them to cul- tivate the arts and sciences, but induced foreigners to visit and assist them. Instances of this we find, in what is related respecting the Queen of Sheba, and Hiram, King of Tyre. As the Romans, in the time of Augustus, and his successors, were indebted to the Greeks, for a great part of their knowledge in the polite arts; so the Hebrews, under Solomon, had assistance from Egypt, and from Tyre. As to music and poetry, which seem to have been put on so respectable a footing, in the former reign, they appear to have had O pw» JI It is under the mild atmosphere of limited monarchs; where a variety of arts and professions exists, and, at the same time, there is a great number of idle and dissipated people; where the free sallies of humour and ridicule are not only tolerated, but favoured, as sources of amuse- ment; where luxury, idleness, and the desire of pleasure, dispose men to intrigue, and to an indulgence of all their whims and. propensities; that the comic muse fixes her abode. ‘The free and sportive character of society and conversation, the intercourse of the sexes, the volatile and frivolous character and pursuits, which courts and their re- tainers produce, and the free display of all the vanities and humours of men, furnish abundant materials for come- dy; while a splendid and well-frequented theatre, which is always among the pleasurable establishments of a. free mo- narchy, encourages. and. rewards the display of her powers. It seems, then, that, if all other circumstances are equal, a mixed monarchy should be favourable to more branches oe the fine mien and. ‘aaa greater. perfection in them, than had their, share of attraction in that of Solomon. In Ecclesiastes, he speaks of music among the vain luxuries, and vexations of spirit, with which he found himself satiated: ‘* I got men singers, and women singers, and the delights ‘© of the sons of men, and musical instruments of all sorts.” The poetical parts of the Old ‘Testament are sufficient to convince us, that poetry was car- ried to a very high pitch of perfection, among the ancient Hebrews. The description of the magnificence of Solomon, particularly of the structure of the temple, and its embellishments and furniture, may convince us, that they had carried architecture to an equal pitch of excellence. 56 > than any other form of government; since it will unite the elevation of mind of the republic, with the pleasura- ble disposition, the varied characters, and free expense of the monarchy. We have seen, that a monarchy is fa- vourable to the comic and satyric poet. Eloquence also flourishes in mixed monarchies, where deliberation is ad- mitted: and assemblies, discussing the political interests of the state, though not absolutely popular, are sufficiently large to give the popular form, to afford a theatre for the display of oratory, and incitements to excel, that may call out exertion, by a numerous audience, and the idea of a public exhibition. There was no eloquence in the Roman senate, after the accession of the emperor. Yet, even in the parliament of Paris, bold and sublime strains of ener- getic elocution were not unusual; as, when a member fell on his knees, and invoked the spirit of St. Lewis. The English senate. is a great school of oratory, a grand the- atre for the exhibition of eloquence: the subjects of de- bate are so important: the persons, who engage in them, are selected from such various classes of society; the deli- berations are so free and public! The English government, being a mixture of various forms, it should be most favourable to the progress of the fine arts; as comprizing, in itself, all that is most fayour- able in each, to their advancement. It has popular assem- blies, to promote, nay, to render necessary, the study and advancement of eloquence. There is so much of the de- : mocratic 57 mocratic form, and the people, on the principle of re- presentation, have such a share in the government, such an importance in the state, and are impressed with such a sense of their own dignity, that it produces an inde- pendent spirit, and an elevation of mind; while the splen- dor of an imperial court diffuses the love of pleasure, and the opulence of the merchant joins with the pomp and expense of a wealthy nobility, to supply an ample en- couragement to all the arts, that minister to luxury, plea- sure and magnificence. ? When the great duke of Florence, Cosmo,. prevailed in his schemes of ambition, and, under the affected simpli- city of manners, and affectation of a love of equality, ren- dered himself master of his country; we are not to ar- gue with respect to a monarchy, nor yet with respect toa republic, from what then took place at Florence. ‘Though, nominally, there was a republic; yet, in reality, a mo- narchy was established: and, though single domination was established, a strong free spirit remained. Hence we shall find, in the admirable works of art and literature, which Florence produced, something mixed, something that sa- vours of the expense and magnificence of a monarchy, and, at the same time, breathes the free and elated spi- rit, and shews the noble and independent sentiments, pe- culiar to a republic. I shall conclude this part of my Essay by observing, that, as in various departments of nature and art, extremes ‘are found to meet; so it is, with respect to the influence VOL. X. ie: of 58 of the political circumstances of countries, on the progress and prosperity of the fine arts. The extremes of despotism and anarchy operate alike: the one, by a jealous gloomy control, uniformly acting; the other, by occasional licen- tiousness, and bursts of popular fury, more sensibly violent and tremendous. ‘These aggressions on personal safety, property, freedom of speech, and superiority of talent, so cruelly inimical to the fine arts, proceed, in both cases, from the same cause; from a sense of weakness, from an apprehension of hostility, arising out of the consciousness ef deserving to have foes. Both governments, (if they de- serve the name,) endeavour by the same means, (namely, by terror) to obtain the same end, self-preservation: both are equally prodigal of blood, equally destructive of hu- man nature and human happiness; of all that contributes to embellish the former, and promote the latter. I proceed to consider the difference of climate. The va- rieties of climate affect the fine arts: directly, by their in- fluencing the temperament, disposition, national charac- ter, and intercourse of society; and indirectly, by their predisposing men, to concur or acquiesce in the establish- ment of certain forms of government. As climates are distinguished* by degrees of latitude, so are they, also, by those of sensibility. The different effects of the same pieces and performances, on an English and Italian audience, are surprising. This difference of sensibility must have a striking effect on the growth and progress of the fme arts. Of course, the varieties of cli- mate * Montesquieu, 59 mate must be more or less favourable’ to them. Where there is most sensibility, the fie arts, if the operation of that sensibility is not controlled, by the operation of other causes, which are unfavourable, must be most pre= valent and prosperous. It is true, that political imstitu- tions may, and often do, control and counteract the sof= tening effects of climate. Thus the severe and uniform manners and discipline of the Spartan republic, inculcat- ing an. inflexible sternness: of nature,. and proscribing: plea- sure, relaxation and soft indulgences, must have been un- favourable to the fine arts. In the North are people, who have few vices, many virtues. In northern climates, scarce has the animal part of love a power of making itself felt (says. Montesquieu).* “In temperate climates, love is! at- “ tended by a thousand circumstances, and endeavours “ to please, by things that have the appearance, though “ not the reality of this passion. In warmer climates; “ love is liked for its own sake: it is the only cause of “ happiness; it is life itself.” In southern climates, the machine, of a delicate frame, but strong sensibility, resigns itself to love. In the northern regions, a machine robust and. heavy, finds pleasure in whatever is apt to throw the spirits into motion; as hunting, and other athletic ex- ercises. The general love of music in Italy, the unrival- led excellence in painting, the extraordinary faculty of the Improvisatori, are proofs of the superior sensibility of H 2 the * See Spirit of Laws, B. XIV. c. ii. Nugent’s Translation, V.I. p, 327, et sequentes, 60 the Italians. In fact, the rapid and unstudied effusions ‘of the Improvisatori, are proofs, rather of superior sensibi- lity, than of poetical talent. It appears that haste, an absence of thought, and exclusion of preparation, seem necessary to the exercise of this faculty. It seems to have an intimate and inseparable connexion with music. ‘The extemporaneous effusion is usually some address to the company, or allusion to some local or occasional circum- stance; or a descant on a string of similies, suggested at the moment. It is not merely recited, but sung out to some tune, with much vehemence; and the musical air always seems to suggest the lines.* As their climate is yet more genial, the sensibility of the Greeks surpasses even that of the Italians. It formerly produced pre-eminence in all the fine aris: a pre-eminence which the Greeks might still maintain, if the influence of a most happy climate, and the capabilities of their natural endowments and ta- lents, were seconded by the enjoyment of freedom; and the influence of a rational and patriotic government. Mo- dern travellers speak in high terms, of the amiable man- ners, the gay temper, and lively genius of the Greeks, at this day, sunk as they are in deplorable ignorance, and prostrated under the iron rod of a barbarous and unre- lenting despotism. The penances of the Indians, so full of barbarity, the heroism of the women of Malabar,’ who burn them- selves * Such was the character of the recitations of Signor Negri. + See Guy’s Sentimental Journey inGreece, Abbe Mariti, Sonnini, Olivier, &e, 61 selves with their husbands, form no- objection to what has been said, about the great sensibility of the natives of warm, climates. . This, sensibility, though it makes ‘them fear death; makes them fear other things even worse than death. This |degree of sensibility made them early arrive’ ata proficiency in the arts of music and poetry, which the delicacy of their organs. enabled them to practise in the. greatest perfection.; This. refinement: of: their organs made. them receive ‘strong impressions: ‘from surrounding objects: hence they excelled in music, of which they have: a vast number of modes or measures; and sublime strains of descriptive and figurative poetry. It disposed them to the love of pleasure, and made Jall: their passions violent in ‘the extreme:* hence the platonism of their love poetry; the ardour,, the delirium, with which they describe the in- toxicating sentiments. of love; and the strange mysticisi of their religious, poetry. The influence. of climate, on thevarts and rsurberits of a people, .may be| seen, in what ancient. writers: tell us of the .music,, the, poetry, and: other; literary. compositions ‘of the ‘ancient, Greeks, of Asia ‘Minor..Nothing ‘could: be more ,relaxing».and; seductive than the climate: the very air seemed) to, diffuse the spirit of sensuality, pleasurable indulgence, aud libertinism. ‘The Lydian: mode of music was. remarkable, for its efleminacy and fascinating power: love * Even their religious, poems. adopt \the tone- of) love;, + Sir William Jones’s Works, Vol. I. ‘ Qn the Mystical Poetry of the ‘s+ Persians and ‘Hindas.”” ” 62 love and poetry, were the progeny of this soft climate. The Milesian, fables, the. prototype of the modern novel, were the productions of;Lonia, celebrated: for its: opulence, ‘its commerce, the, number of its colonies on the borders of the Propontis,,.the Tanais, and the Nile; and not less ce+ lebrated for, the; effeminacy of its: inhabitants. In this pro- vince, where, the, Meander: winds: through a most delicious country ;, where, groves, of myrtle, the almond, sweet wil- low, and the orange; perfume the air; all nature inspires the most voluptuous sensations. [lere the Milesian tales originated;, and Aristides, who. distinguished himself in these, compositions, according, to: Plutarch, must have writ- ten before the tume ofi-Crassus: for, after his defeat, a copy. of these, fables, was found in the baggage of a Ro- man. officer, and brought to Surena. The warlike Parthians despised a nation, which, in the midst of its military pur- suits, could give itself up to such amusements. The influence. of climate, and the love of pleasure, may have encouraged the various. branches of the fine arts, that are connected, with the pleasures of sense, and minister to luxury. This, in some. degree, served to counteract the tendency of arbitrary power to discourage arts and: sciences. Thus, we find, that the delightful: regions of Asia Minor were ever the favourite seats of “love and: poetry; where the son of; Bacchus and Venus was peculiarly worshipped ; and the voluptuous spirit of the climate breathed through its poetry. While the political state of the country pre- cluded the sublimér éfforts of poetry, the epos, and the drama, 63 drama, and the rousing and animated strains of a mascu- line eloquence, it relaxed the mind into indolence and soft indulgence: it produced the Lydian measure of music, effeminate and voluptuous in the extreme: it produced a race of amorous poets, who celebrated love, the prevailing sentiment of the country, with all the truth of nature, and all the embellishments of fancy. Thus were the chains of the people so entwined in myrtle and flowers, that they were concealed from view, and scarcely prest on ine limbs that bore them. Climate may influence the fine arts, in a less direct man- ner, by predisposing men to receive certain forms of go- vernment;, and: contributing, in other respects, to their establishment. The East, the original seat of patriarchal authority, seems to have been, at all times, the chosen re- sidence, and head quarters, of arbitrary power. Montes- quieu endeavours, with much. ingenuity, to explain the cause. ‘ In Asia, countries, which are very cold, border “on others, which are very hot; as Turkey, Persia, India, “ and Japan.* In Europe, on the contrary, the temperate “ gone is very extensive, though situated in limits very “* different from each other; there being no affinity between *“* the climates of Spain and Italy, and those of Denmark ‘‘ and Sweden. But, as the climate grows insensibly colder, “on our proceeding from south to north, according to the “ latitude of each country, it follows, that each resembles, in point of climate, the country soasipeetinca that there is “no * See Spirit of Laws, B, XVII. c. iii, Nugent’s Translation, Vol. I. p. 393. 64 no very extraordinary difference between them; and that, as I have just said, the temperate zone is very extensive. Hence it comes, ‘that, in Asia, the strong nations are op- posed to the ‘weak. The warlike, brave, and active peo- ple, touch immediately on the indolent and timorous: the one, therefore, must conquer; the other, be conquered. In Europe, on the contrary, strong nations are opposed to strong; and those, who join each other, have nearly the same courage, ‘This is the grand reason of the weakness of Asia, and the strength of Europe; of the liberty of Europe, and the slavery of Asia. That liberty in Asia never increases: in Europe, it is enlarged or di- minished, according to circumstances.* The nations, in the north of Europe, conquered as freemen: the nations, of the north of Asia, ‘conquered as slaves, to satisfy the ambition of a master: such are the Moguls, the Afghans, and the people of China and Tartary. The genius of the Getic or Tartarian nation, has ever resembled that of Asia; the whip is every thing. The Tartars diffuse slavery; the Goths freedom. Asia has much larger plains: it is cut into much more extensive divisions, by moun- tains and seas; and, as it lies more to the south, its springs are more easily dried up. The mountains are less covered with snow; and the rivers, not being so large, form less powerful barriers. Power, in Asia, must be despotic; else there would be a division, inconsis- tent with the nature of the country. In Europe, the “ natural * Spirit of Laws, B. XVII. c. vy, Nugent’s Translation, V.I. p. 395, et seq. 65 * natural division! ‘forms many nations of a moderate ex- *>tent:'Pke | North* of Europe has‘been called, the forge ** of the human race. In Asia, they have always had great ©gmpires: in °Barope, they could’ never be: established. *. Here’ observe (bythe way) thé effect of a country being “! divided’into\.a number ‘of small ’states; as ancient Greece “ for’ instance, “ancient Italy,‘modern Italy, Germany, and * the rest of Harope, at this'day; with respect to the en- **_couragement of €ormerce, letters, and arts. In Europe, the ‘ruling® by laws isnot‘ incompatible with the main- * tenance ?of the state,"but favourable to its continuance. * [tis this; which has ‘formed a genius for liberty; which “has rendered every’ part difficult to be subdued by fo- “ reign ‘powers... On the contrary; in piel servile met Shas | ‘aniforinly reloned. 0 On'the very principle on which ‘slavery prevailed, “ge- ~ * nerally, Gn Asia, it will be seen, why Egypt, if we “ are ‘to ‘eallvit part) of Asia, Egypt long formed an ex- © ception to alkthat/has becn said, respecting the loca- * lity of: Asia) ¢Lt\is: difficult of access almost on every ‘part; ‘affording. seat impediments to’ an invasion, and * powerfulymeans) of defence against ‘a foreign enemy. -On «the side: of the Mediterranean ‘sea is a very small line “of coast, in proportion to the ‘general ‘extent and impor- “tance of thecountry, and this is very difficult of ap- ‘proach. At each mouth of the Nile are formidable whirl- se pools. and quicksands ; on each flank of Egy pt, it is. de- “ fended by a esta desert of vast extent, where..the EDTA HG. otigGhl asign to 7 olgitiss 9d) 996 shifting 66 ‘ shifting sands threaten,to overwhelm, whole, armies, at * once. Such are. the, effects,of climate, and . eee zraphicel position.”* ct ul -orl}.do The ieee ‘af heen, may be 5 Ae eth RS ano- ther political ,circumstance,, which. has (a powerful, share in promoting, or resisting the \pregress, of, fine, ants. i The influence of false religion, and the;supexstitious, worship of images, in the time of ancient paganism, manifestly tended to bring the arts of sculpture, and, painting to. per fection. The, utmost magnificence of, expense, ,and,| en- couragement were employed; to render. these..symbols» of the Deity, and the edifices in which they, were placed, truly worthy of a divinity.+- Thus artists were stimulated to display their. abilities, in exhibiting the;forms of the ancient heathen divinities in the,’ sublimest manner; and in, adorning their temples with pictures, seulptures,) and other decorations. Poetry and music, in-all ages, and. all states of society, seem to have supplied» ja'|part, of: reli- gious worship; and, the natural enthusiasm of the bard received new inspirations from the feelings ofj religious fer- vor. Poetry, thus animated and ‘exalted,osupplied the pa- gan ritual with hymns, in honour of the Deity,,. Most, of these devotional poems of the ancient heathens have. pe+ rished, perhaps through the zeal, of;the,,first Christians: but (Gf we may judge from poetical history, or, from: the . Femaiirs * The author begs to be excused, for having extracted so largely fom Montesquieu. + Such were the temple and statue of the Olbipan Jupiter, .at Athens. 67 remains of Greek and Roman devotional poetry, which have happened to; reach us) the compositions ‘of classical times, on sacred subjects, were not inferior in merit, to the other ancient productions of the fine arts. The: dithyrambics of Pindar are said’ to have been the noblest effusions of his genius; ‘they’ were devotional hymns in honour ‘of Bac- chus: The hymns ascribed to: Homer and Orpheus, and those of Callimachus; are preserved; and shew: how much the spirit of devotion ‘may elevate and adorn poetry. The same may be ‘said of the carmen seculare’ and other odes of Horace:” The ancient: pagan mythology was singularly adapted: td» warm and’ captivate the imagination, by the wildness’ and: variety of its fictions. ‘The traditions and fables of paganism were, many .of them, +highly ingenious and beautiful: susceptible, at once, of an allegorical mo- rality,; and of all the charms and graces of poetic ma- nagement.. The descriptions of divinities and their attri- butes, and the rites by which they were adored, and the solemn addresses ‘to them, which occur in the ancient epic, tragic’ and lyric ‘poets, are among the noblest: and most striking passages! their works.» Among the wonderful remains of ‘ancient art and magnificence, which ‘are yet to be seen, in Egypt,* Greece, Italy,{ Palmyra, Persia, and even’ in ladiolt and astonish the’ on some, by AS YE. pg 13¥ tA their * For the monuments of Egypt, see Bruce’s Travels, Denon, ae a work of great merit, Mayer’s Views in Kgypt. + See Chandler’s Travels, Stuart’s Athens, &c. ft See Ruins of Postum), Piranesi, phi 2a Stolberg” a ‘Travels, § See Ruins: of Palmyra, by’ Wood. © || See Chardin, &c. &c. 68 their sublime greatness, and stupendous dimensions ; ‘some, by their exquisite grace and beauty,, their: just propor tions, the harmony of their parts, and the elaborate: per- fection’ with which they are, finished; and_ others, ‘again, by a combination of all these different attributes: many of the principal were edifices, erected for, religious: pur- poses. Indeed, in every period, and through every stage of society, religious enthusiasm has,,occasionally, and often without directly intending it, been.a promoter of the fine arts, (with the: solitary exception of the Christian religion, at some particular periods, and in;some particular, sects.) Even the rudest ages had their idols: and the darkest. and most savage rituals, even those, which streamed with the blood of human sacrifices, were not without their choral hymns and religious melodies.* a The first introduction of Christianity, was, certainly, un- favourable to the fine arts.}- The course of life, and edu- cation of many of the primitive teachers of the new doc- trine, rendered them unfriendly to every species of ele- gance, pomp and refinement. ‘Their religious: notions, par- ticularly their abhorrence of the idolatrous worship of the heathens, accompanied by an active zeal, led them to consider, as a most meritorious sacrifice to the true God, the destruction of heathen temples, and the graven images with which they were decorated. By this spirit, many of the * See, in Asiatic Researches, and other books, an account of eastern mo- puments. + The reader will find the influence of various forms.of religion, on the manners and tastes of men, considered much at large, in an Essay on the Effects of the Reformation, by Villers. 69 the finest monuments of antiquity were destroyed; while the rage against images was carried even to a pitch of extravagance. When the new religion had extended its sway, and the Christian church grew wealthy, the hierar- chy suffered political considerations to mingle with the concerns of faith. The ministers and votaries of religion began to feel the effects of pomp and decoration. Mo- dern Christianity, like ancient paganism, sought to capti- vate the imagination, and excite superstitious veneration, by a_ powerful appeal to the senses. Thus the religion, which*had gloried in the naked simplicity of its worship, and set itself in decided hostility to the splendid super- stitions, and pompous ceremonial of paganism, adopted an imitation of all that it before decried. The idols of the heathens yielded to the crucifix, and images of the Virgin and samts: the walls of churches were covered with paintings and sculptures: the choirs resounded with vo- cal and instrumental music. Christianity, in her turn, be- came the patroness of the arts; and invoked their aid, to trick her out, in all the beauty of holiness, with gor- geous vestments, stately temples, statues, pictures, sculp- tures, solemn processions.* It is well known to every tra- veller, / * «© The Saxons, from the first introduction of Christianity among them, ‘¢ had made use of images: and perhaps Christianity, without some of those ‘* exterior ornaments, had not made so quick a progress among idolaters; but “* they had not paid any kind of worship or address to images; and this abuse ‘* never preyailed, among Christians, till it received the sanction of the se- *¢ cond council of Nice.” Hume, Vol. I. end of chap, ii. «© The 70 yveller, how much of the labours of modern artists, since the revival of letters and the fine arts, in Europe, have been dedicated to religious structures and sacred sub- jects. But I shall find occasion to resume this topic. Let us now proceed, to consider the operation of certain grand historical events, on the fine arts. “6 ce 46 “cc 66 “é “cc “c 66 iT “ «6 “ ity It is observed, by the philosophical historian,* “ The rise, ‘progress, perfection and decline of the arts and sciences, are curious objects of contemplation, and intimately con- nected with the narration of civil transactions. The events of no particular period can be accounted for, but by considering the degree of advancement men have made in these particulars. Those, who cast their eyes on the general relations of society, will find, that all the im- provements of the human mind had reached nearly to their state of perfection, about the age of Augustus: There was a sensible decline from that period; and men, thenceforth, relapsed gradually into ignorance and _ bar- barism. "The unlimited extent of the Roman empire, the consequent despotism of the monarchs, extinguished all emulation, debased the generous spirits of men, and depressed ‘« The more to facilitate the reception of Christianity, Pope Gregory (sur- named the Great) enjoined Augustine to remove the idols from the heathen altars, but not to destroy the altars themselves; because the people (he said) would be allured to frequent Christian worship, when they found it celebrated in a place which they were accustomed to revere as sacred. He also exhorted these missionaries to imitate the pagan festivals.” Sec Hume, Vol. I. chap. i. * Hume, Hist. England, Vol. III. page 247, et seq. 71 ‘“* depressed that noble flame, by which all the refined “arts must be cherished and cultivated. The military ‘** government, which soon succeeded, rendered even the “‘ lives of men insecure and precarious, and proved de- *‘ structive to those vulgar and more necessary arts of ‘* agriculture, manufacture, and commerce; and, in the “end, to the military art and genius itself; by which alone the immense fabric of the empire could be sup- ‘“< ported. The irruption of the barbarous nations, which ‘soon followed, overwhelmed all human knowledge, which “ was already far on its decline; and men sunk every age “« deeper into ignorance, stupidity, and superstition, till “ the light of ancient sciences and history had nearly suf- “ fered a total extinction in all the European nations.” One of the most stupendous and dreadful historical events, with which we are acquainted, is the deplorable destruction of the Roman empire, by fierce barbarians. The confusion of all the orders of society, the erasure of all the arts of peace and elegance, all the institutions of civilized humanity, all the fairest inventions of human in- tellect and genius, from the face of the ravaged earth, was the consequence. To renovate the vigour of our degraded nature, it perhaps became necessary, that the arts of effe- minate and slothfal luxury, together with the beings, who exercised and enjoyed them, should be swept away; and that the milder and more finished tribes of men, who were fated, to. disappear, to vanish, like a vapour or a dream, together with their inventions, their monuments, their arts, their 72 their habitations, and their sciences, should be replaced by a race of gloomy, joyless, and furious demons of extermi- - nation, ministers of human chastisement, whose only virtue was an unreflecting, ungoverned, and headlong valour; whose only joy was the calamity of their fellow-creatures, whose science was destruction. All the ingredients of hu- man happiness and comfort were dashed to the ground. All the elements of civil society were confounded, in dis- cord and anarchy, by swarms scarcely human; whose man- ners were as rude and barbarous as their language and their names. The world was immersed in a general chaos; and the fine arts were not only unknown, but forgotten. Sic erat instabilis tellus, innabilis unda, Lucis egens aer, nulli sua forma manebat, Obstabatque aliis aliud.——Ovip. Such is the picture, which historians are fond of giving us, of the destruction of the Roman empire. However, it must be confest, that the irruptions of the Goths, the Vandals, and other barbarous swarms, which overspread the Roman provinces, did not destroy as much, as, at first glance, might have appeared. They found the people sink- ing fast into the barbarism of ignorance and. depravity, through the effects of luxury and evil government: a’ bar-. barism more fatal, in spirit and essence, though less dis- gusting and terrific, in form, than that of their fierce’ and uncultivated conquerors. All love of fame, all true taste for the fine arts, all sense of right and wrong, were fled. It is 73 is true, that, in the miserable devastation’ which ensued, many noble cities were overthrown; many admirable works and monuments of antiquity were destroyed: but, on the whole, perhaps, society and the arts did not lose so much as is generally imagined; nor was the human race so much changed, for the worse, as we are too ready to allow. Let any person impartially read over the history of the latter ages of the Greek empire, and he will be obliged to’ con- fess, that the total extermination of such a degenerate and unworthy race, could not have been a subject of much just regret, or any great loss to the civilization and virtue of mankind. That vast and hateful capital, Constantinople, then was, and so it remains, a sink of abomination. The bloody intrigues, the relentless vengeance, the cruel punish- ments, the all-powerful sway of women and eunuchs, the unbridled domination of ignorance, fear, folly, avarice, lust, . incapacity, and blindness, weré just as great then, as they are at the present hour. Had not the human race, whose enormities were fully ripe for such a tremendous chastise- ment, been then overwhelmed by warlike barbarians, it is probable, that their own unmanly vices and degeneracy would ultimately have exterminated them, and depopu- lated the country; or, at least, plunged them in a degree of ignorance and blindness, equal to that which prevailed among their conquerors in.the dark middle ages. Let the reader consult Gibbon, an historian worthy of the period he has chosen for his theme, with respect to the astonish- ing depravity and turpitude of the times. Any person, VOL, x, K who 74 who looks into the miserable productions* of those ages, may perceive, that taste and literature were then so de- based, that they could not well fall lower; and that there is no real cause of regret for the loss of such false know- ledge and base refinement. At this fatal period, from the east, and from the north, countless swarms of gloomy and ferocious barbarians, ignorant of every art, but that of de- solation, poured over the Roman provinces: they swept away the monuments of former science and magnificence, the institutions and enjoyments of peaceful times. In conformity with this political state of society, was the state of the arts; which seemed to be extinct, and swallowed up, in the vast abyss of general ruin. The me- morial rhymes and incantations of the Druids; the bardie songs of the ancient Gauls and Britons; the hymns of the northern Scalders, often the harbingers of battles, some- times the prelude to human sacrifices, and fraught with all the horrors of a gloomy and sanguinary mythology; cannot be considered as forming an exception to what has been said, respecting the absence of the fine arts, at this period. It is further to be observed, that whatever might be the science or talents of the Druids and bards, they seem * See the mob of Augustan historians; Ammianus Marcellinus, respectable in point of historic fidelity, detestable in point of stile; Ausonius, Prudentias, Juvencus, Sedulius, Nonnus, Quintus Calaber, Serenus, Sammonicus, Martia- nus Capella, &c. &c. Ke. Claudian is a prodigy for his time: Dion Cassius, and Anna Comnena, are splendid exceptions: vari nantes in gurgite vaste. 75 seem to have been confined exclusively to these classes of people, who endeavoured. to secure their ascendancy over the minds of men, by preserving to themselves a monopoly of the small portion of knowledge and accomplishments, which then existed. « There is an ultimate point of depression,” (says Hume,) *“ as well as of exaltation, from which human affairs na- “ turally return, in a contrary progress; and beyond which “ they seldom pass, either in their advancement or de- “ cline.” There is, in fact, in nature a constant and uni- versal effort, and tendency to rectification. The tree, which is planted in a*crooked position, endeavours to make it- self upright. Out of the very obliquities, errors and vices of man, springs the. endeavour to correct them. What happened, after the destruction of the Roman empire, il- lustrates fully this wise order of guiding providence. Out of the state of chaos we have described, arose, not a cure, but a palliative, the feudal system; the existence of which is a most signal fact in history. The feudal system, which began in the ninth century, continued in full vigour, to the middle of the twelfth. This system was perfectly mi- litary; -out of it sprung the institution of chivalry, which is referred, by the best writers, to the eleventh century.* Romance was the offspring of chivalry. These three causes had a powerful influence, to generate the character and K2 _ Manners * See St. Palaye, Memoires de Chevalerie, Memoirs of the Academy of Inscriptions, the preface to Fabliaux e Contes. 76 “manners of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and the spirit of love and adventure, so favourable, in many re- spects, to poetry, music, and even to other arts.* The period in which the people of Christendom were the lowest sunk in ignorance, and, consequently, in disor- ders of every kind, may be fixed at the eleventh century, about the reign of William the Conqueror. From that zra, the sun of science beginning to re-ascend, threw out many gleams of light, which preceded the full morning, when letters were revived, in the fifteenth century. The Danes and other northern people, who had so long in- fested all the coasts, and even the inland parts of Europe, by their depredations, being settled in fertile regions, un- der milder climates, had now learned the arts of agri- culture, found a settled subsistence at home, and were no longer tempted to desert their industry, in order to seek a precarious livelihood by the plunder of their neigh- bours. The feudal governments, also, among the southern nations, were reduced to a kind of system. And though that strange species of civil polity was ill fitted to en- sure either liberty or tranquillity, it was preferable to the universal licence and disorder, which had every where pre- ceded it. In the course of. the century or two, next from Char- lemagne, almost the whole allodial property of Europe ehanged into feudal. Why and how this change took place, * The first romances were the production of the twelfth century. 17 place, is particularly explained by Montesquieu.* In the ybarbarism of those times, there was no magistrate who possessed the power to bring criminals before him, or en- furce his decisions. Luxury, greedy and expensive, though rude; and artificial wants, importunate and wasteful, in proportion as they were few in number; required and pro- duced great inequality of property. Each petty chief re- garded himself as the equal of his prince. In time of war, the power of the sovereign was considerable; in time of peace, it was nothing. As property became vested in few hands, the evil became enormous. The great feudal barons of Europe, despising the feeble authority of the sovereign, carried on private wars against each other. Such a state of society was not favourable to the progress of arts and refinements: and the existing arts, such as they were, all accorded with the state of society, and were subservient to the taste and pursuits of these turbulent and ferocious times. _In the period, after the Norman conquest, archi- tecture} was most diligently cultivated: but its style ‘and destination were influenced by the political circumstances of the country. Partly, through the warlike spirit and insecurity of social life in general; partly, through the wealth * See Spirit of Laws, B. XXXI. Chap. vili.; the title of which is, “ in what manner allodial estates were changed into fiefs.” \ + From the estimation in which architecture began to be held, arose that extraordinary institution of free-masonry; at least, it gave name to the secret * regulations, which were adopted, for the correspondence and mutual aid of strangers and pilgrims, in these times. ~ 78 wealth of the church; architecture produced either for- tresses, or churches and monasteries; but scarcely any other edifices, for public use or private accommodation. Thus we find, that the arts, under the feudal system, were in a rude and uncultivated state; and that all their pro- ductions were uncouth and barbarous, like the people for whose use and gratification they were intended. Architec- ture was of a rude and massy character; chiefly employed, as I have said, in the construction of castles, gloomy and inconvenient, but strong, and not ill calculated for pur- poses. of defence, according to the imperfect military sci- ence of the times, where the baron revelled with his nu- merous retainers, or from whence he sallied forth, to spoil the surrounding country; or of churches, vast, dreary, dis- proportionate, damp and dark, affording a type and image of the chearless and oppressive darkness, the gross fabri- cations, and dismal superstitions, which then prevailed over the world. Sculpture was little known; and as imperfect, in its conceptions and execution, ‘as. the architecture of the age. Poetry, if it deserved the name, had received as little improvement as the two former arts. The exercise of it was confined, almost exclusively, to the minstrels; and its object was merely the amusement of a race of rude uncultivated and savage warriors, in their hours of festi- vity. In conformity with the bigotry, ignorance and cre- dulity of the times, the metrical productions of these rude ages were, either uncouth dramatic. pieces, founded on stories taken from scripture, and called mysteries; or ro- mances, 79 mances, which were originally sung at festivals, accompa- nied by musical instruments, and recounted the exploits of preceding warriors; or fabulous legends of giants, en- chanters, spectres and fairies. From this state of chaos, into which the feudal system had degenerated, a new light seemed to expand itself, and illuminate all Europe. Among other monsters, to which the feudal system gave birth, - was the universal prevalence of the judicial combats; when the appeal to the sword superseded all expedients, and the person accused for treason, rape or murder, threw down his gauntlet, and defied his accuser to mortal combat. In those days, when wickedness and impiety had arrived at the highest pitch, it was proposed, that the valour and generosity of individuals should form a supplement to the weakness of law. Combinations were then formed, to pro- tect ecclesiastics, virgins, widows and orphans, and for redress of injuries in general. All the young men of fa- mily entered into these societies: hence, when it came to be patronized by the sovereigns of Europe, as well as the church, the order of chivalry arose. ‘Towards the close of the eleventh century, Gregory VII. formed the idea of uniting all Christians against Mahometanism. It was then the wild and romantic enterprises of the Crusaders arose from chivalry. he early romances were the records of the adventures, arts, education, habits and manners of think- ing, appropriate to chivalry. The ¢rowbadours and minstrels flourished in the ages of chivalry. In that age, admired poetical productions, or brilliant warlike exploits, were the onl¥ 80 only means, which could raise men of low birth* to the highest ranks in society. The ¢rouwbadowrs and minstrels were almost as numerous as the castles of the great; and they were welcome guests, at the courts of every prince and baron. At this time, as an appendage of the system of chivalry, arose courts and parliaments of love. ‘They were composed of a number of persons of both sexes, with a preference to the fair-sex. They decided questions of gallantry and love. Alice, third w-fe of Lewis the Young, held a court of love at Troyes, in the latter end of the twelfth century, on a question, already determined by the Countess of Champagne, daughter of the same Lewis, by a former wife, which was referred to her, by way of appeal. The French have a claim to priority, over all the na- tions of Europe, in the gallant institutions of chivalry, in the invention of romances, and in the production of all the various species and denominations of works of imagi- nation. ‘The Paladines, or peers of France, the puissant knights of Charlemagne, filled all Europe with their fame, ‘and found a legendary historian of their fabulous exploits, in the supposed archbishop Turpin, whose work is a co- pious treasury of romantic subjects, and the parent source of romantic writings. From the peers of France, originated the * Peter Vidal, a famous minstrel, was the son of an obscure tradesman. His fame, as a troubadour, gained him the favour of the highest characters, such as Richard I. 81 the Table Ronde, and the *British and Armoric knights of Arthur; which made such an early impression on the ima- gination of Milton, that he determined to make their at- chievements the subject of an epic poem, as he himself intimates. Arturumque, etiam sub Tevris bella moyentem. The French. applied themselves, with incredible ardour, to the study of arms; to the attainment of perfection in _ the profession of chivalry; and to the laws and refinements of love and honour. Tilts, justs, and tournaments,+ be- came their favourite amusement. They were passionately addicted to them; and celebrated them, with great splen- dour, pomp, and solemnity. Then arose all the train of fancies chaste and noble; all the heroic extravagances, im- posing and magnificent follies, that grew out of the spirit of chivalry, and characterize the modern heroic ages. This "spirit of chivalry was) favourable, in a certain degree, to the arts. Painting and sculpture were encouraged, by the magnificence in dress and ornaments, which began to be studied and generally displayed; and by the devices, and other ornaments, which the knights now used on their ar- mour. Music, too, was more prized and cultivated. It was employed in the military pageants, which were so VOLS 0X. L much * Begirt with British and Armoric knights.—Milton. + These were distinct and different from éach other. 82 much in fashion: it was employed by the minstrel, to en- liven the feast and revel, which succeeded to the military pageants: it was employed by the gallant and enamoured knights, in the masques and serenades, with which they paid homage to their mistresses. The females, too, began to be sensible of their own value; to perceive, and be proud of the admiration which they excited; and to think themselves bound to deserve the adoration and attachment of their admirers, by suitable qualifications. They endea- voured, therefore, to secure the continuance of their em- pire, over the hearts of their lovers, by the embellishments of the mind, and the attainment of a variety of pleasing _and elegant accomplishments. Among these, music and sing- ing were not forgotten. We find, accordingly, im the early descriptions of charming and elegant females, that singing, and playing on the lute, are always mentioned. As to poetry, it evidently must have followed in the train of chivalry. That institution produced an elevation of senti- ment, an ardent and generous love of fame, which led the great and powerful, who had the means of encouraging poetry, to prize and appreciate the exertions of ‘the bard. The courteous and valiant knights loaded the poets of the time with favours: they made them the companions of their amusements: and pleasures; the chroniclers of «their loves and triumphs. They even endeavoured to imitate them, and join the bay to the myrtle and the laurel. Thus we find even Richard Coeur de Lion had cultivated the muses; and we have poetical remains of his composition. The 83 The times of chivalry furnished the poet, in a pre-eminent degree, with two of the most copious and popular subjects of song, love and arms. Thus we see, in the influence which the institutions of chivalry had, on the progress of the fine arts, another instance, to shew how much these arts are dependent on the political state of the country. The progress and prosperity of the fine arts are connected with a vigour of intellect, and elevation of sentiment: and we see that such events or institutions, as have contributed to produce an energetic frame of mind, contributed, in an equal degree, to the advancement of the fine arts. The corresponding energies of the mind dispose men to simul- taneous exertions, in arts and arms; as if the elated spirit sought to extend its empire over every walk of excellence, and acquire sovereign mastery, and undisputed possession, in every apartment of the house of fame. Eschylus dis- tinguished himself in the battle of Salamis; and, in his noble play of the Perse, he has given a glorious descrip- tion of that memorable engagement, in which his own va- lour shone conspicuous. Nor was this union of energies peculiar to an individual. The Athenian people displayed supreme excellence, in the jine arts, in all the most sub- lime productions of human genius, at the same time that they demonstrated superior energy of mind, and the un- conquerable love of freedom, by leading the van of the Grecian host, that withstood the despotism of Persia. It _ was then, that Phidias conceived adequate ideas of the ma- jesty of the gods, and expressed them faithfully in sculp- L2 ture: 84 ture: and the painting of Panznus, in the portico, was accounted a full reward for the heroic exertions of Mil- tiades and his illustrious companions in arms!*__, When the Romans ‘had established the fame of their mi- litary prowess beyond dispute, and asserted their dominion over the world by the conquest of the Carthaginians and the Greeks, they saw that a province yet remained un- conquered; and it was then that they aimed at an equal pre-eminence and dominion in the fine arts. When Greece yielded in arms, she made an ample reprisal in arts, and enslaved her fierce conqueror; and Rome fixed her mind and attention on a picture. In the succession of people who appeared, from the destruction of the Roman empire ° in * In a country, not larger than some shires in England and Ireland, and within the compass of a short period, it is surprising what a number of il- lustrious men arose, in the various provinces of the fine arts. In dramatic poetry, Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, with many more, whose works have perished, were nearly cotemporaries: then succeeded the comic writers, Aristophanes, Menander, Philomen, and a cloud of others; of whom the reader may find some account, in. the entertaining papers on the subject, in Cum- berland’s Observer: in history, eloquence, and philosophy, came Thucydides, Pericles, Demosthenes, Eschines, Lysias, Plato, and Xenophon: in sculpture, Phidias, Praxiteles,; Thymilus: in painting, Panconus, Polygnotus, Micon, Pamphilus, Zeuxis, and Parrhasius. Nor are we left to conjecture, or the relations of ancient writers, for a sense of the excellence of this admirable people in architecture: the noble remains of ancient Athens, which have tri- umphed over the rage of time and barbarism, bear testimony to their supe- riority; and we must recollect that, at the same time, the Athenians carried en great and expensive wars, and contended, by sea and land, for the su- preme dominion of Greece. 85 in the west, we may trace a perceptible difference, a gra- dual advance, in the merits of the succeeding race, over that which went before, both in energy of ft and in the arts: of the Danes over the Saxons: of the Nor- mans over the Danes. The Danes passed through a long probation of hardy expedients and stern necessity, in their native woods: they brooded over the gloomy and gigan- tic conceptions, which elevated the savage mind: they ‘formed their spirits in unison with the sublime and rugged scenery around them; which gave birth and nutriment to wild and lofty ideas, and served to ennoble and render in- teresting savage independence: they worshipped dcities, which their own free and heroic imaginations created. The Normans command respect and admiration, more than the Danes and Saxons: they were a band of soldiers, who never fled before an enemy: they spread their warlike hosts through Italy, Sicily and England: they were every where feared, and looked upon as a superior race of men: their friendship was coveted, their enmity was deprecated. As there was a gradation in prowess, personal gallantry, warlike exploits and military fame, from the Saxons to the Danes, from the Danes to the Normans; there was a si- milat and proportionable difference and gradation, in their mental attainments, in the refinements of sentiment, in the knowledge of all the arts of life, and a relish for elegance and magnificence. We are told, by the historians of the dark ages, that the Saxons produced the most horrible desolations, wherever they came. This was, partly, owing ta 86 to their natural ferocity; partly, to the obstinate resistance of the Britons.* Thus the beautiful country, which the one struggled to conquer, the other to defend, was strip- ped of all its ornaments. When the Saxons obtained quiet. possession of the finest provinces of Britain, by the ex- tirpation of their ancient inhabitants, they were really a barbarous and miserable people, destitute of the most de- sirable accommodations, and of the arts by which they are procured; without models to imitate, or masters to teach them these arts. Thus were the arts, both useful and ornamental, in a very rude imperfect state. We find architecture} at the lowest ebb. Painting, for a reason which will be mentioned hereafter, seems to have been brought to a greater perfection, at this period, than many of the other arts. Poetry and poets were much admired, and treated with an high degree of respect. The * Gildas, who was an eye-witness of these scenes of devastation, paints them thus: “ A fire was kindled, by the sacrilegious hand of the Saxons, which spread from city to city, and never ceased, till it had burned up the whole surface of the island, from sea to sea. The walls of all the co- lonies were beaten down, and their inhabitants were slain with the point of the sword. Nothing was to be seen, in the streets, but fragments of ruined walls, towers, and temples, fallen from their lofty seats, besprinkled with blood, and mixed with mangled carcases.” + See Henry’s History of England. There does not seem to have been one church of stone, nor any artist who could build one, in all Scotland, at the beginning of the eighth century. And, in England, stone buildings were very rare, during the eighth and ninth centuries; and, where such buildings were erected, they were the objects of much admiration. 87 The Danes, who, for some time, were the predominant people of England, were of as bold and intrepid a spirit as the Saxons had ever been, and rather more fierce and warlike. By their numerous fleets, they rode triumphant in all the European seas, and carried terror and desola~ tion to the coasts of Germany, France, Spain, Italy, Scot- land and Ireland. They were pagans: and those divini- ties, who were the objects of their worship, had been fa- mous heroes; whose favour, they imagined, could only be obtained, by brave exploits in war. Their admission into the hall of Odin, the father of slaughter, the god of fire and desolation, and all their future happiness, (they were taught,) depended on the violence of their own death,* and the number of enemies they had slain in battle. This belief inspired them with a contempt of life and thirst for blood. Inde ruendi in ferrum mens prena viris, animeque capaces Mortis, et ignavum rediture parcere vite, Lucan. Nor was their education less warlike than their religion. Born in fleets and camps, the first objects they beheld were arms, storms, battles and slaughter. Thus all that was terrible, by degrees, became familiar, and even de- lightful to them. Their childhood and dawn of youth were spent in running, leaping, climbing, swimming, wrest- ling, * See the Song of Regner, Lobtrog, and the Accounts of the Poetry of Egil Skallagrim, a famous northern poet of those times. 86 ling, fighting, and such like exercises, as hardened both their souls and bodies, and disposed and fitted them for the toils of war. As soon as they began to lisp, they were taught to sing the exploits of their ancestors; and their memories were stored with tales of warlike expeditions. Their valour was boastful and audacious, attended with much presumption and self-confidence, and stimulated by the fondness for a violent death. They were cruel in war, but of a social and .convivial disposition among them- selves. The Danish soldiers, who were quartered upon the inhabitants, in the reigns of Edgar the Peaceable, and Ethelred, were the beaux of those times. They were par- ticularly attentive to the dressing of their hair, which they combed, at least, once every day, and thereby captivated the affections of the English ladies.* The mountains of Germany, Sweden and Denmark, and even Iceland, were not unvisited by the muses. The chronicles of events among the natives were in rhime;} and they advanced to battle with war-songs. The poems of the ancient bards of the North are said to have produced amazing effects on their hearers. + Legends of the power of music are found, in the historians of those periods, similar and equal to what is related of the harps of Orpheus and Arion. Many of their metaphors were exceedingly bold and sub- lime. * See Henry’s History of England. + Canute the Great and Alfred were poets and musicians. t Venerable Bede (See Henry’s History of England) gives a wonderful account of Caedmon, an ancient Saxon poet. 89 lime. Their language and expressions were glowing, and not unlike those of the Orientals or American savages. It appears they had great singularity, prodigious artifice, and almost endless variety, in the kinds and measures of their verses. Music was equally admired and cultivated: the halls of kings, princes and nobles, rung with the uni- ted melody of the voice and harp. Some skill in vocal and instrumental. music seems to have been necessary to every man, who wished to mix in polite society; and the want of it was disgraceful. The Normans surpassed the Saxons, and their own pro- genitors, the Danes, not in arms alone, but in policy, arts of life, and cultivation of all that was then held refined and beautiful. They gave the tone to the rest of Europe. ‘They excelled in generosity of sentiment, in heroism, and in ‘poetry. The first and favourite themes of romantic song, were produced by their story, by the deeds of Char- lemagne and’ Roland.* We also see how much the state of the jine arts is in- fluenced: by ‘the political circumstances of a country, from ‘the greater advancement which some of them make, the VOL. x: M° _ degree * Jullifer, a soldier in the army of William the Conqueror, who first broke the ranks of the English at the battle of Hastings, is said to have adyanced, on that occasion, singing the song of Roland. About the year 1100,.a grand prose narrative, compiled in Latin, from the songs of Roland and Olivier, two of the principal peers. of Charlemagne, was published, in the name of Turpin, archbishop of Rheims. He was fol- lowed, by Geoffry of Monmouth, and by Robert. Wace, who wrote Brut d’ Angleterre. hye 90 degree of mterest and attention which they excite, and the favour and encouragement which they attract to them- selves, in preference to others, more conducive, perhaps, to the real comfort of life. It is thus that poetry and music came to be cultivated with enthusiasm, and some degree of success, among martial and rude people, while the other jine aris were little known or regarded. The reason was, these arts contributed to record their military exploits, and concurred to complete the entertainment. of their moments of festivity. To shew the continued and harmonized correspondence, between the energy of charac- ter, and a proficiency in the jie arts, it is observed, that the productions of Chaucer, the great parent of English poetry, began to appear, at the time that the English arms triumphed in France: his Court of Love, it seems, being written in the year of the battle of Crecy.* At that time the spirit of chivalry was at the height, in England and France. The institution of the order of the Garter took place early in Chaucer's time. This spirit had incal- culable effects on the general mind. It is to be ascribed to the spirit of chivalry, which then prevailed, and filled all Europe with exalted sentiments of love and honour, that the sentiments of Chaucer’s lovers are so fine and de- licate. The spirit of chivalry influenced the general state of society and manners. Chaucer was the chosen friend and companion of John of Gaunt, king of Castile. Another * It was in the year 1329, when the plague was raging in London, t gi Another great event was, the general establishment of the Christian religion, and the superstitions which were engrafted on it. At first, the spirit of superstition and bi- gotry contributed to keep the world in darkness, and de- plorable ignorance; but, in process of time, the very insti- tutions, which had most powerfully produced this effect, began to produce the very reverse of the picture. Such were monastic institutions, pilgrimages, the worship of images; all of which (though a contrary effect might have been expected) appear, to a certain degree, to have con- tributed to the revival and advancement of the jie arts, and even (unfriendly as they might be supposed to be to such an effect) to the advancement of solid learning. The erection of churches and monasteries was a great cause and incentive of the improvement of architecture. Paint: ing and sculpture were, also, prized and cultivated; for the ornaments of these religious structures; for the images; shrines and sepulchres, and the furniture and. utensils em- ployed in them. Music was, likewise, studied and ims proved, as a solemn and grateful accessary, indeed, an indispensable requisite, in religious service. The first at- tempts at ‘dramatic poetry, appeared in the miracle plays and mysteries. Monastic institutions also, (though in after times they became receptacles of sloth and ignorance,) yet, in the dark ages, contributed’ greatly’to the improvement and instruction of mankind, and the cultivation of arts and ‘sciences. The leisure, which the monks and other re- ligious persons enjoyed, was dedicated to the pursuits of M 2 painting, 92 painting, sculpture and enamelling, and to music and po- etry. Most of the persons, who excelled in those ages, in the fine arts, or became famous, by their writings, in his- tory and poetry, were religious. It is the peculiar charac- teristic of the Roman Catholic religion, and some other sects of Christianity, that they address themselves much to the senses. ‘The authors or improvers of these religious forms, were fully aware of the influence and force, which the senses possess over the hearts and characters of men. The buildings, which they constructed for public. worship, were highly venerable. Their stained and. painted win- dows, their massy pillars, the extensive aisles, the magnifi- cence of the fabric, its concave roof, the splendid choir, were all calculated to inspire the mind with religious so- lemnity. ‘To this were added the carvings, the painted images, and other decorations, the accompaniments of mu- sic, the wniform garb of the priests and nuns, their decent gestures, theirslow and: pompous processions, the solemn chaunt of the subhme anthem; the splendor of the altar, the brilliancy of the tapers, the smoke and fragrance of the incense. There was, in these early ages, an extreme scarcity of books; so that, in those times, seven hundred volumes were esteemed a foundation for a national library. The library of monasteries, however, in a great degree, sup- plied the disadvantage arising from the small ‘collections of individuals; and many of the monks. were constantly employed, * Godwin’s Life of Chaucer. 93 employed, in transcribing and: multiplying copies.of books. Many of these manuscripts: they illuminated and embel- lished in a most beautiful manner, with. miniature pajnt- ings and gilding.* By this.means,. the ecclesiastics dis- seminated an acquaintance with the classics and other books;}- and also, promoted arts and. manufactures. Yet the degree of. classical learning, thus: circulated, bore the stamp of the barbarism of the. times, and of the want of true taste. Rhyming, Latin verses, and a.puenle style in composition, with a fondness. for trifling conceits, prevail- ed in poetry, such as-it was; and the prose of those days ‘was jejune and -inflated, bombastic and barbarous. - The priests reflected deeply, in a. spirit of cordial co- operation, on the best..methods of swaying and. governing the mind. Considering. man, as the creature of sense, they addressed themselves most elaborately to his eye and his ear: they engrossed to themselves every thing that was most mag- -nificent and awful, as far as they, were able: .and, not con- tent with that, they, even, desired. to., become a.souree of amusement,t a.sort of masters .of the rev els, to the people. To this object they directed their shows, processions, and festivals. It appears, also, that they.were jealous. of the minstrels, whom they considered as ivals in. their. profes- . sion. * See, in Coke upon Littleton, the extreme value which was set. upon a book called the Grail, + It must be confessed, however, they were chiefly employed. in multi- plying psalters and missals. t See Warton’s-History of English Poetry, Godwin’s Life of Chaucer. 94 sion. ‘These views, of the different ecclesiastical bodies, were opposed and counteracted, (but in vain,) both by the hierarchy and the civil government, with a becoming zeal for religion, and a just sense of decorum. In the year 1258, an injunction was given by the Barons of England, that secular plays should not be permitted to be per- formed before the abbot and his monks; and Ludi Thea- trales are forbidden to be performed in churches and church-yards: which shews, that the practice must have been pretty general.* It is not improbable, that mysteries and miracle plays were adopted, or at least brought into more general use, for the purpose of evading provisions and ordinances of this nature; by mixing something with the dramatic form, that was religious and scriptural. The monks, and other ecclesiastics, flattered themselves that they should be able, by this device, to elude the ordi- nances and decrees against profane stage plays and inter- ludes; and, at the same time, to allure the populace. Nor should we ascribe it merely to policy and deep design, that the monks, and other ecclesiastics, insinuated them- selves into all scenes of revelry which were going forward; and affected to take such a lead in the sports and ammse- ments of the people. We are too fond of assigning ab- struse * We have various instances of dramatic performances, exhibited by reli- gious bodies, of which the reader may find some enumeration, in Godwin’s Life of Chaucer, Warton’s History of Poetry, and other books of that kind. We are told, that the fourth general council of Lateran made a decree, pro- hibiting the clergy from attending secular plays. 95 struse political motives, for actions that are natural. It is not wonderful, that people, who were bred up in idleness, and had few means of filling the void of time, should eagerly catch at every species of amusement, which lay within their reach. In fact, there was no amusement, how- ever puerile, coarse, and. indecorous, which: the monks thought they could enjoy without detection, to which they did not recur. The ancient sculptures, the works of monks for the most part, which are yet to be seen, in various places, shew the temper and character of the monks of this period. Instances of this may be seen, in the chap- ter-house of York, and in the halls of some of the cha- pels of Oxford. It appears, that, though the spirit and institutions of religion gave a certain degree of encourage- ment to the arts; the benefit, which they derived from thence, was but imperfect and limited. The monkish ar- biters of elegance were gross in their tastes, and easily sa- tisfied. Under their superintendence, the arts stopt half way in their progress to perfection. The spirit of ecclesi- astical decoration. produced: works, vastly inferior to those which proceeded, at the same time, from rising taste, and rational magnificence, in the free states of Italy. Liberty was at least equally munificent with bigotry; but she proved a much more efficient and useful patroness. She enlarged the understanding, and refined the taste, both of the workman and the critic; while she extended rewards, to stimulate the exertions of the former. We are enabled to institute some comparison on this subject. The paint- ings 96 ings in fresco, on the walls of St. Stephen’s* chapel, lately discovered, are quite fresh, though executed im the year 1548. They display a gross ignorance of anatomy, pro- portion, and perspective;- and are very inferior to the paintings, which had appeared almost a century before in Italy.j- Yet we must suppose them the work of the best artists England ‘then afforded, stimulated to exertion by royal bounty,{ and the spirit of religion. The patronage, which superstition afforded te refinement, and the imitative arts, was entirely relative, and the advantages derived from it local and temporary. ‘The spirit of false religion, and priestly craft, produced advantages in a period of extreme grossness and: barbarism. ‘Thus, good grew out of evil; while the arts and policy, of the priests and monks, con- tributed to awaken and disseminate some little knowledge, and love of literature, and the jine arts, where they had been hitherto unknown. ‘The effect of pilgrimages, to sa- cred places and shrines of saints, though they originated in gross superstition, was the civilization of mankind, and the advancement .of arts. Men were thus led to a more extensive commerce with each other; and what began in bigotry ended in ‘knowledge and politeness, ‘They were forcibly * Sacred plays are mentioned, by Mathew Paris, to have been acted in the year 1110, in the abbey of Dunstable: the author was Galfrid, a Norman, who was afterwards abbot of St. Albans. ; + In the year 1276. t They were executed by the orders of Edward III.: they represent the catastrophe of Job’s family. 97 forcibly impelled, to ‘the acquisition of that: knowledge, which: is insensibly obtained, not only. in human. nature, but in the arts, “by an observation’ of various countries, , and of the manners and customs of various nations. The. grand ‘source of improvement of ‘Europe, in those early ages, was found in the \Crusades; which -brought the natives of the northern and western’ parts of Europe ac- -quainted with the-arts and civilization of the Grecian em- -pire, and of the Saracen’s} with the luxury and ‘enjoyments of ithe) people;.and enabled ‘them to/ refine the manners, the ,arts;; and) pleasures of their own) countrymen, on their return.» The Crusades too, by exciting a romantic spirit of adventure, and a generous readiness to sacrifice all other objects to the pursuits of honest fame, gave rise to a num- ber of gallant acts and atchievéments, which furnished matter for heroic song; and also produced a certain high and romantic mood, an elevation of sentiment, extremely favourable to the cultivation of poetry and music, which are generally the pleasures of refined) spirits. Though the Greek empire was much on the:odecline, these military adventurers: had still an opportunity’ of observing a degree of splendor, a perfection and. skillcin ‘commerce and agri- ° culture, a display of politeness.and of the jiné arts, of ar- .chitecture, sculpture, paintings. poetry and’ music, such as they had never before witnessed, nor could possibly have conceived. And at that time, also, the Saracens were highly cultivated, and very. forward In arts and politeness. VOL niKyiney y ytiovbes hed cosa ey About 98 About the time that chivalry arose, or soon after, the mendicant orders arose also. St. Dominic and St. Fran- cis of Assise were the founders, at the very same time, of the two great monastic orders of mendicant friars. The dignitaries of the universities were the chief opponents of these orders. «The mendicants endeavoured to support their consequence, and gain adherents, by a superior degree of dustry, learning and’ eloquence. Here was another poli- tical circumstance, which contributed to enlighten the pub- he mind, and produced a rivalship and emulous exertion of talent... These two parties attacked each other with great animosity, and much ability; was displayed on each side. ‘The earliest opponents of the mendicant orders were, Wil- liam de ‘St. Amour, Joachim;* Abbot: of Flora, in Cala- bria.. \Johnide Meun,} also, attacks! the mendicants in verse, and) gives a summary of the invectives of William de St. Amour. John of Parma was the great champion ‘of these vorders. The kind of civilization and advancement in the arts, which iflowed from ‘a source remote, and appearing so: lit- tle calculated to produce any good: or ornamental. effect, -and rather adapted to cramp the energies ‘of the human mind, to degrade its taste and feelings, and confine its pursuits, was still worthy /of: the source whence it sprung. , he bat ett * Who added to the usual monastic vows. + John de Meun principally attacks them, on two grounds: their insinu- ating themselves into private houses, and seducing young persons and wo- men; and their idleness. ‘99 It was,a sluggish, a. slovenly , and alf-begotten amphi- bious. civilization, savouring much of the gross and vicious, It did not. .push forward, as might be expected, but, re- mained. stationary, or, even became, retrograde. The know- ledge, of. the ,ancients,..was.. introduced,. it is true; and, the learned languages, | particularly Latin, were in general use. But the classics then best known, and in the highest re- pute, were not of the purest.style. Such a preference argued the ,rude, and, inferior taste, of, the times. The clas- sics in greatest vogue,,,while the) best authors were, neglect- ed, were, in poetry, Ovid, Lucan,,Statius, Prudentius. The _most admired. prose .writers were Seneca, Bocthius, Ma- crobius and Valerius Maximus. Dictys and. Dares: the Gesta, Romanorum, also of. Guido, de. Colonna, the Bel- lum, Trojanum) of Josephus , Ascanus, the Philippeid of Guillaume. le Breton, and the Alexandreid of Gaultier de Chatillon, were favourite works... The, amusements. of the times bore the stamp of grossness:, rude thymers, minstrels and mummers, jugglers, tumblers and Posture-masters, were the delight of a rude people. | Joinville (as. quoted by God- win) talks of the estimation in which they were held, and of their ingenious gibes and mockeries, and feats of leger- demain: Chaucer, also, alludes to their popularity. * The miracle plays or mysteries, of, which a a vast number, are ‘preserved, not only in English, but an: other languages, particularly Italian, aré monuments of the gross taste in- fused by the monks, these rude arbiters of elegarice. The | nQ out) 4 tndgeremonials * Life of Chaucer, Vol. I. p. 62. 100 ceremonials and pageants of May-day, where’ Robin ‘Hood was represented as lord of the May, with’ Maid Marian, his faithful mistress, as lady of the May; the’ feast of fools, and other similar pageants, were suited to ‘the taste of’ the times, and seem to have had a Sort of monastic ‘quaint- ness, which plainly marked out their detivation from the convent. A lord of misrule was elécted,* anda prelate of fools: all this was accompanied by a multitude of bur- lesque ceremonies.’ There was, also, the feast ‘of’ mnocents, and that of the ass.’ In the latter a: wooden ass ‘was ex- hibited, with a person enclosed, and attended ‘by a crowd of mummers, representing six Jews,’ six Gentiles, of whom’ the poet Virgil was one, and some other personages. ‘There was an oration in praisé of the ‘ass; and the whole assem- bly brayed hike asses, as loud’ as they céuld. ‘The utmost coarseness of manners, broad humour;' and vulgar ribaldry, prevailed on these occasions. ° | ‘What’ contributed,” at: first, to enlighten the world, and advance the prdgress 'of the fine’ arts, in'a certain degree, ‘and for a certain purpose, became’ afterwards the. cause ph heft a ore of '* When Queen Elizabeth, was entertained by her favourite Leicester, at Kenelworth castle, the images of the ancient manners and amusements were ‘revived; and mummeries, dnd the recitations of minstrels, made a large part -of the amusement on this occasion. The mock heroic legend of the Tour- nament.of Tottenham, much in the manner of the burlesque poem of the Orlandino, of Teofilo Folengo, a famous Macaronic writer, born in the year 1493, who published, sometimes under the name of Merlino Coccaio, some- times under that of Limerno Pitocco, was composed and recited by a perso- nated minstrel. 101 of an effect directly contrary. When superior improve- ment became general, the gloomy and despotic empire of papal superstition had the most unfavourable effects: on the state of society, and the destiny of the fine arts. 'The deplorable bondage in which it held the world, shackled the powers of the human intelleet, and disseminated a taste, gross. and uncouth, as those who then assumed the go- -vernment of the consciences. and understandings of: men. By them some of the finest remains of antiquity were mu- tilated and defaced, in the pious rage of mistaken sanc- tity. Many of the invaluable treasures: of Greek and ‘Ro- man literature are supposed to have been obliterated, to make room for the disgusting legends of some miserable fanatic or maniac, dignified. with the name of ‘saint; or for the barbarous and: despicable effusions: of some mo- nastic rhymer.* It is a certain fact, which. appears from the writings of Petrarch.and: some other early authors, that many classical works, which had survived the irruption of the northern barbarians, were then in existence, and have since perished, through the want of taste and the ignorance of: the subsequent: ages;. when monkish+- indo-- : lence * See the Life of Francis D’Assise. + Every one, that has perused the ancient monkish writers, knows, that, how- ever barbarous their own stile, they are full of allusions to the Latin classics, especially the poets. There seem also, ‘in those middle ages, to have remained many ancient books; which are now lost: Malmesbury, who flourished in the reign of Henry I. and. Stephen, quotes Livy’s description -of :Cesar’s passage - over 102 lence and barbarism plunged the world in a new dark- ness. False literature is even worse than ignorance, as it is worse to wander out of the way, than to remain ‘still in one place. Then monkish rhymes, quibbles, false elo- quence and barbarous conceits, prevailed together with go- thie architecture. But, according to the perpetual bal- ance which is kept up in human things, by the tendency which always urges and actuates the race of man to ame- liorate their condition, evils always bring with them the source of their own correction. The tyranny of supersti- tion was speedily felt, and men grew impatient under the yoke, and struggled to break their bonds. Here the very ignorance of the times, and the prevalence of superstition, began to furnish a new incentive and theme, to some, at least, of the fine arts; namely, poetry and eloquence. The Italian writers, about the thirteenth century, began to descant with freedom, on the corruptions of the church: the study of words gave place to that of things. The philosophical discoveries’ of the Bishop of Spala- tro ‘began to expand the human mind: philosophy en- lightened letters; letters ornamented philosophy; truth arose on over the Rubicon. Fitzstephen, who liyed in the reign of Henry IL, alludes to a passage in the larger history of Sallust.§ It appears also, from the writ- ings of Petrarch, that he was acquainted with some of the works of Cicero, which have since perished: it must have been through the ignorance and want of taste of the monks. We have an account, from some late travellers, of the gross ignorance of the monks of Patmos, and their disregard of the remains af antiquity which they possess. 7 4 See Hume’s History of England, Vol, II. p. 249, and Monthly Magazine. 103 ‘on the ruins of error. Even in England, where. science and the arts had not made such advances-as in. other places, the minds of men began to be opened; they Jearned to enquire and ‘reason.* The scandalous lives of the monks became the topic of invective, among the popular: preach- ers, and rude satirists of the time. The same subject was mentioned, in that parliament, at the close of the reign of Edward Hi., which shewed such a disposition for innova- tion, under the pretext of reforming abuses, ‘The idea was there started, and even discussed, of throwing aside’ the yoke of Rome. From the Arabians, the Italians imbibed their knowledge of the Aristotelian philosophy, and the spirit of free enquiry. This led, not only to an examina- tion of abuses, and the detection of. error, but \even to scepticism and infidelity; which early appeared, in the writings of Cecco d’Ascoli, and Brunetto Latini, friends and intimates of Dante.j} In England, Wickliff' began to preach against the prevailing superstitions, The King, the Princess of Wales, ,and several of the greatest personages ‘of * Petrarca, and Richard of Bury, preceptor of Edward HI. were the means of preserving some of the choicest remains of antiquity. Petrarca received the crown of jaurel at Rome, April sth, 1341. Two embassies came to him the same day, to offer him the crown; one from the university of Paris, the other from the senate of Rome. Robert, king of Naples, the most learned prince of his time, was appointed to examine the pretensions of Petrarch, who Tepaired to, Naples for the purpose, and was received by the king with the utmost kindness. + About this time was produced the book of the three impostors, Moses, Mahomet, J.C,, ascribed to Petrus de Vincis, mentioned by Dante, Inf. Can,.13. 104 of the realm, were suspected of favouring the doctrines of Wickliff. » John of Gaunt, and many of the ablest and most skilful courtiers, avowed themselves his abettors. Every pen was engaged in the dispute: the satirical and descriptive powers of poetry were called out, in this war- fare: the followeys of the old and new professions had their respective ballad-makers. Dr. Percy adverts to two ancient polemic dramas, Every Man, and Lusty Juventus. Many passages, in the Inferno of Dante Alighieri, as the reader will find, breathe the same spirit of bold invective, which prevails in that ancient English satyrical poem, which is entitled The Visions of Piers Plowman, by Lan- geland.* The genius of free enquiry, which ‘emancipated the mind from. papal tyranny, gradually extended itself to the abuses of civil government, and créated a general spi- rit of resistance ‘to tyranny and oppression. This produced a general revolution in favour of freedom, and highly aus- picious to the progress of knowledge and the fine arts. A more correct taste, a more acute and critical judgment, a more steady and regular march to learning, began to pre- vail. Eloquence, and the arts of composition, were now - rendered necessary, by the frequency of attack and de- fence, among the polemical writers; and this, in time, ‘produced a classical taste, and love of learning,-}- which became * See Inferno, Canto XV. sta, xix. and xx.; and particularly the circle of Malebolge and gulf of Simony, Canto XIX. and Canto XXIII. t Brunetto Latino, a Florentine, the preceptor of Dante, composed a Te- soro or Encyclopedia. There is a passage in it, relative to the magnetic ® needle, — ) a 105 became general. This was not, perhaps, the golden period: of the arts; but it was, at least, the time when they were held in the highest honour. The study of them was pro- secuted with the most eager assiduity; and they who ex- celled in them were received, by all those whom they would naturally desire to please, with an attention nearly bordering on adoration. In France, at this period, flou- Py fe the celebrated assemblage of poets, Ronsard, Baif, ». &e., who gave strength and elegance to their vernacu- lar tongue; and, in fact, made it a language, engrafting into it the beauties of the Greek and Roman speech. These were known by their cotemporaries, under the ho- nourable appellation of the Pleiades; an appellation here- tofore applied to the poets of Alexandria. At the same time, the art of painting began to be generally esteemed and patronized. The famous painter, Leonarde da Vinci, was honourably received at the court of France, and died in the arms of the first Francis. A famous event also, the discovery of the art of printing, now took place, and con- tributed, beyond all power of calculation, to the improve- ment of the world. The admirable remains of Greece and. Rome now became familiar to every body, by the multi- vol. xX. oO plication needle, which serves to shew, that its virtues, in navigation, were known forty years before 1300, the year to which most modern philosophers refer its discovery. Brunetto seems to speak of it rather as a matter in general use, than as a new discovery. Guglielmo da Pastrengo, in the fourteenth century, composed the first Bibliotheca Literaria in alphabetical order. 106 plication of copies. A variety of learned men* arose, who employed themselves, with infinite application, to present the text of the classic authors to the world, in* the purest. form. 'Yhe splendid court of Leo X., so much celebrated by cotemporary and all succeeding poets, extended its ge- nial influence to the protection and advancement of the jine arts. At this time, also, the English taste began to be really refined and reformed, and the English language be- came regular and classical. ‘The poetical dynasty, which had commenced in Chaucer, Lydgate, and Gower, was continued in splendor, in Sackville, Wiat, and Surry. Many of the first reformers were not only men of great learning and ability, but of a true classical taste, ‘and ele- gance of mind. . Erasmus, who was particularly severe on the corruptions of the monks,; and may, in some measure, be reckoned one of the reformers, excelled in learning, cri-’. tical refinement, wit, and classical style. The art of paint- ing was, at this time, much encouraged in England. Hans Holbein worked there, as well as other painters of emi- nence; a proof of the refinement of taste which had then taken place. The regular drama rose on the ruins of the miracle plays and mysteries.{ The Italians, who excel so much in music at the present, were the earliest improvers of * The Aldus family, including Paulus Manutius, and Asolas, some of the refugee Greeks, Calliergi, &c. &c. + Erasmus, on some occasion, makes very free with the monks, whom he calls cucullators, scortatores turpissimos, nebulones. t The first model of a regular tragedy was the Gorbeduc of Sackville. 107 of that divine art. Modern music. was rendered a science, reduced to principles, and has thence been furnished with its scale, its counterpoint,* its best melodies, its religious | and secular dramas, and with the chief part of its grace and elegance. « Italy, in modern times, (says Burney,+) has ‘** been to the rest of Europe, what Greece was to Rome. * Its inhabitants have helped to civilize and polish their “ conquerors, and to enlighten the minds of those, whose *‘ superior prowess had frequently enslaved them,” ,When classical learning had begun to flourish in England, Eras- mus visited that country; and Linacer,, Sir John Cheke, and others, applied themselves with ardour to grammatical studies. Sir Thomas More wrote epigrams, and other poems, which have considerable merit; and was distinguished, as much for learning and elegance, as for integrity. Cardi- nal Wolsey, the powerful favourite of Heury.VIIL., while he had the confidence of his master, and fall command over the treasure of the country, was a munificent and splendid patron of learning and the arts, of which he was an excellent judge. Erasmus graduated at Cambridge, and was professor of Greek at Oxford, in. which station he was succeeded by Dr. Crook, The adagies of Erasmus are dedicated to Lord. Montjoy; the king himself} distinguish- o 2 ed * Counterpoint is generally supposed to haye been inyented by /Gaide, a monk of Arezzo, about the year 1022. + Hist! of Music, pref. } Henry VIII. 108 ed him with marks of his particular favour and affection. Bishop Fisher had great zeal to promote literature in others, and to excel in it himself. Warham, Archbishop of Can- terbury, was an equal encourager of learning and learned men:* Erasmus calls him a great canonist, an able states- man, and a favourer of learned men. At this time, too, Polydore Virgil was patronized by Henry VIII., who gave him church preferments in England. Reuchlin, one of the early reformers, and the friend of Erasmus, was also one of the great restorers of letters in Germany. The learned Budeus, at this time, flourished in Paris, and was, like- wise, the friend of Erasmus. As this last, by his bold and ‘free censures of the monks, led the way to the Re- formation, it has been remarked, that “ Erasmus laid the egg, and Luther hatched it.” Thus the action and re-action of genius and freedom promote each other, and energy of mind is favourable to the arts. It was not merely by the force of dry religious controversy, that the Reforma- tion advanced. It- availed itself of the exertions of ora- tory and the powers of invective, enlivened by wit and ridicule. Luther possessed uncommon genius, a lively imagination, a great share of learning, and, at the same time, sacrificed to the Graces. He composed some poems, both in Latin and German: he was fond of music, in which he was both a composer and performer. He said, “ it expelled melancholy, and put the devil to flight, who “* mortally * See Jortin’s Life of Erasmus. 109 “ mortally hated, music.” He .even entertained a mean opinion, of the capacity and disposition of those, who shad no taste for this admirable ,art.; Others of the reformers also, Eobanus Hessus, Ulricus Hutten, and Beatus Rhe- nanus, were men of distinguished taste and learning. Car- dinal Sadolet, one, of the first scholars of the age, ;highly esteemed both, Melancthon and. Bucer, noted reformers. The. unguarded commendations, bestowed by Leo, X..on Luther, occasioned great scandal. , The ,poetical history. of the reign of Queen Elizabeth could not be comprised in a moderate volume. Epic, di- dactic and devotional poems, translations from the ancient and all the modern languages, pastorals, sonnets, madri- gals, acrostics, humorous and. romantic ballads, were pro- duced, with a profusion, which, perhaps, has never since been equalled. No less than seventy-four, poets, are .as- signed to this period, in the new edition of the, Theatrum Poetarum.*.,,Many of these have been .consigned to ob- livion: a few, as Sir John Harrington, Sir Philip Sidney, Drayton, Fairfax,. Warner, and Sir Walter Raleigh, conti- nue to be cited, in deference to their ancient reputation. Shakespeare, Fletcher, Johnson, Spencer, and Sir John Davis, are still confessed to be unrivalled in their several styles of composition. After a, lapse of nearly :two,cen- turies, during which the progress of literature has not,been interrupted, the literary splendor, of this reign is the boast of * See Ellis, Spec. ant. Poeiry, Vol. Il. p. 129—30. 110 of English literature, This (as Mr. Wharton has justly re- marked) may be ascribed to the Reformation. When the corruptions of popery had been abolished, the’ laity, who had now been taught to assert their natural privileges, became impatient of the old moflopoly of knowledge. The general ‘curiosity, heightened by ideas, cither real or ima- ginary, of the treasures contained in the Greek and Ro- man writers, excited all persons, of leisure and fortune, ‘to study the Classics. The marvellous progress of Queen Elie zabeth, in the Greek nouns, is recorded with’ rapture,” ‘by her preceptor, Roger Ascham. He might have found many similar examples, in Anna Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey, the daughters of Sir Thomas More, and other distinguished characters. As the stores of Greek, Roman, and Italian literature, were now laid open; through’ the ‘medium ‘of translations, the former supplied our language with a‘ va- riety of beautiful allusions: the latter afforded numberless stories, taken from common life, in which the’ “variety” of incident and ingenuity of contrivance ‘were united. It seems that the English language was, at this time, more copious, and better adapted for the purpose of po- etry, than at any prior or’ subsequent period. Our vo- cabulary was enriched, during the first half of the sixteenth century, by almost daily adoptions from the Greek, Latin, Italian, French and Spanish languages: not to speak of the oriental tongues, which furnished liberal contributions of words, and still more liberal of figures and purases; particularly when the scriptures came to be generally stu- died, . = eee ae | 111 died, and were:translated ‘into the vernacular: language. Though some of these denizens; were admitted without ne- cessity, and only: through a blind yveneration for the dig- nity of polysyllables; ‘they added«something to the expres- sion;»as. well as tothe’ harmony !aud> variety of the Jan- guage. A. lively Italian writer* has niade a remark, which, though’ singular, ‘appears’ to be justiithat the | translation of the Bible is:the test and: standard of the language in— England, while the standard:in Italy is°the Decameron of Boccacio. ‘The consequence ofthis, ini England,! was im’ portant... The vulgar:tonguehaving become 'the vehicle of! religion, was regarded, not: only with: national partiality, but with pious reverence. Even at this day, amidst’ the great improvements: of our language, the old translation of the Bible is read with pleasure, and jstrikes us with its energy. and: beauty.) ‘This shews: us, in the effects of. the Reformation, how much ‘the »progress of the arts may de- pend on: the» political: circumstances >of the country. I find, this ‘historical \induction has betrayed’ me into great prolixity; DL shall:therefore désist,) sand: :adduce, | in confirmation of what: Ihave already offered, two or three striking and unquestionable facts, from the general state and history of the fine, arts, which strongly shew their de- pendance on the» political circumstances « of: the country. The first) fact is, that the: English have no. peculiar strains of national melody, like the Scotch, the Welsh, the Irish, the if Algarotti. 112 the Swiss and the Calabrese. We find none of these airs of traditional music, wildly sweet, and simply pathetic, which speak so forcibly to the heart, and operate like magic on the imagination and affections of the people, with whom they are indigenous, to awaken the love of parent soil, and excite a fond association of ideas.* I can speak from experience: I have felt the powerful and inexpressible effect of the strains of national music; and found myself melted, to a degree of enthusiastic tender- ness, by hearing some of our original Irish airs sung: and played, even by very middling performers., I have: seen many. of the Scotch: nation, particularly from: the. High-' lands, most forcibly affected, by the strains of their native music: If the fact be, as I have) supposed, that the English have no: appropriate minstrelsy or: indigenous me- lody, let. us endeavour to account for this deficiency. The Scotch; Welsh and Irish, though the countries they inhabit have been: much subject both to foreign aggression and intestine: wars, yet retain more of the aboriginal. inhabi- tants, and are, at. this: day, a: less mixed race: than ‘the English.. They, have still, in some’ measure, retained’ im popular use their peculiar dialects; handed down: to them: from remote ages. They: converse in their own languages’ with a conscious delight; and have preserved, together with their languages,» many of their ancient customs, in- fojor stitutions, * The powerful effects of the air, called Ranz de Vache, on the Swiss, while they were a people, were like enchantment. ke ie, = 11S stitutions, traditions and pastimes, and also many of their metrical conipositions. Spencer* also, in his views of the state of Ireland, says, that the English colonists. preferred the language of the natives to their own. Spencer, in speak- ing of the Irish,'even in his time, says, “ There is amongst ** the Irish, a certain’ kind’ of people called: bardis, which “are to them instead of poets: whose profession it is, te * set forth the praises or dispraises of men, in their poems “ or rithmes; the which are had in so high regard and “-estimation.among them, that none dare displease them, “ fer fear to run into reproach through their offence, and “ to be made infamous in the mouths of all men: for their ** verses are ‘taken up -with a general applause, and sung * at all feasts and meetings, by .certain other’ persons, «« whose proper function that is; who receive for the same “ oreat rewards and reputation amongst them.’ 4: It is easy to account: for this difference. The lofty mountains, the woods, defiles and morasses, ‘by which Wales, Scotland and freland were defended, afforded natural for- tresses, to which the ancient inhabitants retired, from the rage and pursuits of their enemies, and preserved their janguage and manners pure and unmixed. The progress of invasion was stopped, and some remnant ef indepen- dence preserved. To this circumstance Ireland superadded a remote insular situation, which originally preserved her VOL. X. id? from * He describes, in a striking manner, the pertinacity with which the Scotch, Welsh, and Irish, especially the latter, retain their own customs. +} Spencer’s Works, Vol. VI., small Edit, p. 124. 114 from the visitatton of the Romans. England, on the con- trary, which was better known, lay more open to inva- sion, and afforded fewer natural means of defence. It was therefore completely conquered, over and over again, and became, in succession, the prey of different races of invaders, who introduced their own language, manners, and institutions, and, in a great measure, metamorpho- sed the people whom they thus subjected; leaving them nothing, mental or corporeal, they could properly call their own. ‘These again were, in turns, transformed by new conquerors. When the military science and discipline of the Romans prevailed, and drove the ancient Britons, to preserve an indigent and precarious independence, among the bleak mountains of Wales, Cornwall and Caledonia; the language, the. manners, the garb, the habitations, pur- suits and ideas of the people, became wholly Roman. Fair cities were erected: commerce flourished: all the arts of peace were understood and practised; and with them the luxury and softness of Rome was introduced, and every trace of Celtic origin disappeared. At the decline of the Roman empire, the extremities of that vast body were left defenceless, and became paralysed. Britain became the prey of the Saxons, who not only conquered but de- solated the country; and, in the course of an obstinate and murderous contest, for the possession of the soil, obli- terated every trace of Roman civilization, and introduced the Saxon language and Runic mythology. The Saxons, in their turn, began to acquire opulence, and to be sof- tened 115 tened by the arts of peace.., They, then: -became objects of contempt and) aggression; to a moré fierce and northerly race of barbarians.;'The Danes prevailed for a season, and three sovereigns of that:nation quietly possessed the En- glish throne:) this yet further’ \destroyed the nationality. of the people, After this, the Norman invaders,, having pos- sessed themselves of the country, endeavoured, (as much as possible, to complete the subjection of the inhabitants. They changed the tenure by which lands were held; they introduced their own Jaws. and language; and_ proscribed, with studious and «unrelenting severity, the manners and customs ef the Saxons. The Normans themselves had not been an aboriginal race; they were the descendants. of northern adventurers, who had established, themselves in France, in the same manner thatthe Saxons had settled. in England. Thus we see, what a fluctuation of inhabi- tants, what a perpetual change of masters, took place in England. This will explain the cause of:the fact I have stated; that the present inhabitants. of England retain no national melody, and fewer national customs and_tradi- tions, than, perhaps, any other nation. in Europe, Another remarkable fact occurs in the history of poetry. It is observed by Algarotti, that Moliere (and we might say the same of some of our English comic writers) is as superior to Aristophanes, Terence and Plautus, as all mo- dern tragic writers, Shakespeare excepted, are inferior to Sophocles and Euripides. The fact is undeniable, and the yeason is, that the ancients were not provided with schools PQ of - 116 of comic humour: whereas, every country, where good poets are to be found, furnishes a school of tragedy. The object of tragedy being to excite terror and pity, by the represen- tation of great and calamitous events, the tragic muse finds her materials every where. ‘The tragic poet requires no pre~ hminary education: man is every where unhappy, and every where feels his misery: Hence more excellent writers have arisen in tragedy than in comedy. The task of comedy is difficult: her excellence consists in the natural representation of manners and characters, not of the most perfect kind. The talent, by which the comic writer aims at eminence, in this department, is called humour: the subjects, on which it is employed, are, the foibles, the caprices, the lighter passions of men. It is obvious, that comedy can arrive at perfection, there only, where a plentiful crop of foibles, follies, and: caprices arises: where all the various vanities, and eccentricities of human nature, are left free to expand themselves, and blossom without control; and the professions and pursuits of men are infinitely varied. I have already shewn,. that, under a strict republic, the ramifications of character, and the display of follies and foibles, are repressed, by morals and virtue, the spirit of equality, and the cultivation of good order. The republican government endeavours to form a perfect character: comedy delights in that which is imperfect. Comedy requires a variety of characters: despotism produces a sameness of character, and stifles and overwhelms 117 overwhelms all the caprices and’ eccentricities of men, by the force of terror. ; } It has been observed, that the terms, used to express the products and efforts of eloquence, at Athens and Rome, mark the different genius of the people. The Greeks called regular harangues, roy, discourses; a word that marks operations of the intellect: and the use of this term seems to imply, that their harangues were addressed to the un- derstanding, and sought to attain their end, by the pow-— ers of reasoning. The Romans called speeches of a simi- lar kind, orations; a term taken from prayer, and including the idea of intercession, supplication, and an address to the passions. This is no fanciful or chimerical distinction. We find this difference of character fully exemplified, in the productions of Demosthenes and Cicero. ‘lhe reason of this variation, in the style of public speaking, is to be found in the difference of political circumstances and na- tional character. ‘Fhe Greeks were more lively, more in- genious, more spiritualized ; their passions were aJl in arms, and ready at a call. The Romans were more steady, and less impassioned ; and it required more application, and display of oratory, to rouse their feelings. ; There is a fact, related in the annals of music, which shews the connexion between the arts, and the political state of a country. Many of the ancient writers, who vi- sited Egypt, after it became a Roman province, speak of the inhabitants as the most melancholy and abject race of people in the world. “Ammianus Marcellinus says, “ The « Eeyptians 118 “ Egyptians were not formed for mirth or pleasure: they ** worshipped their gods with sorrow and fear: while the * Greeks and Romans made religion an object of joy and ** festivity.” We are told, by Diodorus Siculus and Plu- tarch, that the cultivation of music, an art, which the Greeks and Romans thought so necessary, to humanize and soften mankind, was prohibited by their government. Dio Chrysostom informs us, that poetry was interdicted among them, as well as music. Strabo says, that the sound of instruments was not heard in their temples; but, that their sacrifices were made in silence. Under the Pto- lemies, on the contrary, music was very much cultivated; and their religious ceremonies were distinguished by pomp, and embellished with all the charms of vocal and instru- mental melody. This is a most striking and wonderful phenomenon, in the history of arts and sciences, this total and gloomy change, in the pursuits, the genius, and tem- per of a whole nation. SLicentiousness, gaiety, and mirth, even in excess, prevailed under the dynasty of the Ptole- mies; poetry and music were cultivated with an ardent enthusiasm. Whence arose the melancholy transformation? The ingenious and learned Dr. Burney accounts for it, in a manner that does honour to his feelings and liberality... * All this is reconcileable, and consonant to the nature of ‘“‘ things: for, when these writers visited Egypt, its inha- “* bitants were in a state of slavery, and had been so for ** five hundred years before; and though not like the “ Jews, in a strange land, yet, like them, they had hung “ ther 119 “ ther harps upon the willows.’ The Roman government, no doubt, was very grinding and oppressive to the pro- vinces. ‘This fact is very important; and goes far to shew, how much the state of the fine arts depends on the poli- tical state of the country: siace it demonstrates, beyond a possibility of doubt, the baleful influence of despotism, of whatever kind it may be. It shews that, in its princi- ple, and necessary operation, unless its character and na- tural tendency be counteracted by some collateral cause, it must be the deadly foe of all chearfulness, and cultiva- tion of the human spirit. I flatter myself, I have now sufficiently supported the affirmative of the proposition before us; by a general con- sideration of the nature of man and his pursuits; by a re- ference to history, and by striking examples taken from the course and progress of the ine arts. I cannot boast of much deep research, or ingenious novelty, in the struc- ture which I have raised. Most of my materials are ob- vious, and are taken from the surface; yet, perhaps, the application of them, in some parts, may appear new. I perceive my essay has swelled to a formidable bulk; yet I commenced it with a determination to consult brevity: but, in the course of my researches on the subject, I found such a variety,of matter, pertinent to my subject, that. it proved a much easier task to reject than to compile. Such as my production is, (for I am fully conscious of its de- fects,) it is offered to the Royal Irish Academy, with all due respect, and with some degree of diffidence. But judgment, 120 judgement, and true science, will ever take an extensive view ef a subject: they will perceive all the difficulties with which it is surrounded; and, of course, will be dis- posed to receive an imperfect attempt, with more in- dulgence than would be afforded to it by presumptuous ignorance. : _ ON THE RY WR OF ee ds BY RICHARD KIRWAN, ESQ. 1 L L.D. P.RIA. ect &e. &e. READ, NOY. ats, 1805. Tue. origin of coe language, that combination of sounds, by, which the thoughts and sentiments of men are commu- nicated';to .each other, thus forming the principal link of their, social intercourse, has always, excited the astonish- ment of those who have attended to its investigation. , On this, subject, two opinions have been. proposed. The first was held, or rather suspected, by persons unacquaint- ed with the most ancient and) authentic record of the, ori- gin. of. our species. They, supposed, that men originally lived in’ a savage: unconnected state, destitute of any lan- guage; that their mutual wants and dangers induced them at last ‘to unite; and, that ‘by, uttering . different sounds, as often ‘as they pointed ‘at different objects,, they gradually formed a;language. , Thus its! origin, is explained, by Dio- dorus,* and by Lucretius.+ VOL. Xe» >: bud Gens? Fob iat At fi doo .noitsge.1 + Lib. capi, SF Libs. sakomtaficn: 422 At varios linguz sonitus natura subegit Mittere, et utilitas expressit nomina rerum. And again, : Postremo quid in hoc mirabile tantopere est, _ $i genus humanum, cui vox et lingua vigerit, Pro vario sensu, varias res voce notaret. But we are surprised to see so eminent a critic as P. Simon,* agree with these unenlightened heathens, and abandon, without any necessity, and in opposition to all just rules of interpretation, the literal sense of the second chapter of Genesis; in which, language is expressly men- tioned as co-existing with the first pair. Even the cele- brated Warburton, though he expressly deduces the origin of language from inspiration, appears to me to have been too liberal in allowing the possibility of any other origin.+ Its impossibility has been demonstrated, both theoretically, by the subtle and eloquent Rousseau ;t and experimentally, in the person of the savage of Aveyron. Among many curious observations, of which he was the object, it was discovered, not only that the organs of speech grow tor- pid by inaction, and can, with great difficulty, utter any articulate sound; but, what was still more extraordinary, this savage was, with equal difficulty, taught to connect those * Hist. Crit. du Vienx Testam. Lib. I. chap. xiv. et xv. + Divine Legation, Book IV. §. iv. p. 106, in 8vo. } Sur PInégalité, &c. 123 those he was enabled to produce, with the objects pre- sented to him, as signs to denote them. The Chinese cannot. pronounce the letters B, D, R, X; because, not - being in their language, they were not taught, in their infancy, ‘toutter the sounds annexed to: them. ‘Phe ‘second opinion, therefore, namely, that the git, of spit was originally bestowed on our first. parents, by the great Author: of ‘their existence, isthe only one which can, with any appearance of reason, be entertained; and is confirmed by: the: Mosaic: history of the origin of our spe- cies. It fully proves, that)ithe!ypower of communicating their ‘thoughts’ to’ each other, was possessed -by our first parents, and: coeval »with their existence.* -~ That the language, thus imparted to man, possessed, at its origin, that. degree .of (perfection which it afterwards attained)* it, for, the most part, as- sumed this last form, or became moré compound ; ; these forms being the most convenient “for expressing the diffe- rent relations, which objects ;bear to:each other, and to the various ‘modifications of existence, action, passion, and adjacent circumstances; as such! relations may ‘be denoted by the variations of the terminating syllables. This mode of signifying relations, is much more) natural. than that employed in many ancient and modern languages; and, therefore, must have preceded it. ‘For, as a: profound. phi- losopher, the celebrated Adam Smith, hath well observed, to express a relation in this‘ manner, did not require any, “ effort of abstraction. It was’ not .expressed,.ias in. the “ languages * 2256 years, by Mr, Jackson’s chronology, which I adopt. It differs little from the Septuagint. 125 ** Janguages alluded, to, by..@ peculiar,..word, . denoting “ relation, and, nothing. but;relation,, but. by a simple, va- “ riation/ of the correlative, term,,, It was expressed, as it “‘ appears in; natures and , not;,as, something separate and 4, detached, j(as, by, our, particles; of; to, from, &c.) but as ‘i|mixed and) hlended with; the.correlatiye object,” |. , hprThe ,. relations, of verbs, 40; ;person, number, and time, whether, stated, as actual or, “possible, or under the modifi- Cations, | of, interrogation... ,command,. or velleity, are, still mere! ‘complex, and, must, haye, been, with: less effort, of abstraction, denoted by variations,or additions to the. Ta- dical, term, than ,by, any, words or abstract, signs of ouch relations ; such, as, areemployed in, clanamaaes of Postar origin. |, sldstobizaos s ot Goalie Udi 97 Ey: (Numbers,, while. smankind,, and) all: acetal tiled only im pairs, would) naturally,be, marked .by terminations, which denoted one; indiyidual,; or both: and, hence, | the dual nungber must have_ preceded, the plural, which. was, denoted ouly, when Jmnoxe, than ,tyo ,were brought, into, existence, is Tphthesame: manner, the isexes, and, inanimate objects, must rib: jbeen. Gao a -eagik hig the, es ose each as, aaeee anny sm as an’, “unit, or. a sitigle, object... mebs. ft -bormrot 9 Daring, the life of'Adams, ssh sah atta were Bend: as tbalte of ,agriculture, that, of metallurgy, and also architec- ture,) (as cities) were built,) and many more, which these presuppose; iB9 / 126 presuppose; consequently, the sphere of language was much enlarged, many new radicals being invented. The numbers of mankind must have pie digioaily ‘in- creased, long before ‘the ‘death of Adam; for it is. ridi- culous to think that’ he’ had’ no ‘more flan’ three sons,’ or that they had’ not’ ‘attaiited the! age’ of puberty, “atthe same period that men do ‘at present! ‘He must have had many more sons, as well’ as! daughters, ‘though’ ‘none are mentioned by Moses ;: as’ he‘'intended® tracing: little “more than ‘the pedigree of’ Noah, and the remote: and imme: poche bauses ‘of the’ Flood? *stts7 yt hoteash .aollositeds * Cain, when sentence’ of iiénishimiit was pronounced against him, apprehending he might be put to death ‘by some of his brethren, retired to a considerable distance from ‘them ;’ and his family, having little’ or fio intercourse with ‘the remaining descendants of Adam, ' for’ many “ages; it is highly probable, that, in his family, the primitive language - “was gradually altered: at least, ‘it could not re- ceive’ the improvements, which ‘that, more favoured by Adam, had’ 'réceiveé! En’ this}! peace was ° preserved, | at least | during» the life of Adam; but; in ‘the family of Cain, crimes of every kind appear’té have been committed; in so much, that, in the days -of Enos, the ‘grandson of Adam, the “descendants of Seth, and “probably many more, ‘who formed the community in which Adam resided, were dis+ tinguished ' froin the family ‘of Cain, by the honorable ap- pellation of” ‘Sons of God. But,' in “process of time, when poth families’ had ‘multiplied ‘to ‘a great degree, and the ae earth 127 earth had -been fully peopled, both unfortunately. inter- nixed with each other; and, .as it frequently happens, the wicked seduced the good, contention soon arose, legiti- mate governments were subverted; war, violence, conquest, or anarchy, every ; where prevailed ; nor was even, the pre- sence of God, which was long, at least occasionally, ma- nifested to Adam, and his favoured family, and emphati- cally called; the Spirit of God, | sufficient to repress these disorders.; Hence, .the, necessity ; -of destroying, the whole race, ‘all, to one family, namely, that of Noah. 7 It sis not necessary, to, suppose, ‘that. the. whole range of the primitive language was known to Noah or his family ; but its structure, its idioms, and radical words, , might be retained by, them ;. and several books, written in that Jan- guage, were oeettatnly: preserved Pe them, as will be (seen in the, sequel... ; : Thus this language beaten as we are informed by Moses, for some generations, (about. five hundred years,) among the greater part; of the descendants of Noah ; not but other. Janguages, might, have - ‘arisen, during ‘that inter- val, among.other, families, sprung from. banished, criminals, as before the Flood. But these,, formed without any pre- concerted plan, . wae! the intercourse of a, turbulent, and ignorant multitude, could be nothing more than uncouth jargons, as defective, and ill connected, as those of the lowest ranks of society, in all countries, generally are. ‘The practice of punishing the most. atrocious crimes, by ba- nishment, cQb : | tos nishment, was, anciéntly, © the most! usual :* and, in those early ages, such crimes were ‘very frequent} Each new criminal, with his family, resorting to those of a similar description, ‘soon forgot his native “pingaaye? and adopted that of ‘the tribe’ “with which’ his! family had been ‘nicorpo- rated: How soon a language, spoken’ by comparatively few families, is “lost-in that of the society to which they aré aggregated, | appears, in many instances. The Jews lost theirs, at Babylon, in about seventy years ; dnd” Bartow; in his highly ‘entertaining and instractive account of Chit na,¢ tells us, the French refugees, at’ the Cape of Good Hope, lost theirs in’ less than séventy years: and so it must ever’ happen, when communication with the parent stock is not. frequent and easy. Even at’ present, the English language has undergone some variation in América! But the great and sudden transition, fronr’ ‘the primeval Janguage to a multitude of heterogeneous languages, hap- pened, as Moses relates, several centuries after the Flood, in the plains of Shinaar. Immediately’ after. that ° catas- trophe, the children of Noah were ordered to people the earth: for this purpose, it was necéssary they should se- parate. But, having’ antecedently associated the idea of separation - with’ a “of ee they ee persisted ‘in Te- maining “* See Le Clerc, in Genes. iv. 2. Didord ain: Ill. cap. iv. 2 Goguet, 236. Grotius, in Matth. V. p. 68. + Thucyd. Lib. I. c. y. } Page 425. 129 maining together; and, after passing several years in the Eastern regions, they removed, in a body, to the Western. They lived in tents, and Jed a pastoral life; as appears by the ninth chapter of Genesis: if they had cultivated any tracts, they, most probably, would have been attached to them. ‘The example of Noah, who was an agriculturist, does not seem to have been followed by his.posterity. The culture of vines (from the misfortune which. their product had occasioned, and the curse, entailed on some of them, originating from it, and, possibly, the recollection, that Cain, the agriculturist, must have been. drunk, when he killed his brother,) appears to have been neglected, for se- veral ages; for its discovery, in after times, was highly ce- lebrated: and, to this day, the use of any intoxicating li- quor is interdicted to the four casts of, the Hindoos;* nor do I find it mentioned in any account of China. Charmed with the fertility of the Babylonian plains, they seemed to have designed to proceed .no farther, but resolved’ to erect a tower, as high as possible, as a signal, by which their situation, in distant. rambles, might, at all times, be determined. It was, however, evident, that, ex- tensive as these plains were, their products would, at last, be insufficient for the maintenance of such multitudes, as they must, in process of time, amount to; whence num- berless disorders would haye arisen. The gentlest. method of forcing them to separate was employed. Their different VOL. x. R tribes, * Indian Recreations, Vol. II. p. 284. 130 tribes, and their subdivisions, were rendered unintelligible to each other, by obliterating the memory of their ancient language, and substituting, in its stead, new sounds, diffe- rent in each tribe, and_ intelligible only to those that composed it; or altering the signification of the primitive sounds. It is not necessary to suppose, that all these tribes. lost their original language; the views of Providence would equally be attained, if it subsisted in one tribe only, or one fraction thereof. To estimate the degree of perfection, which language must have attained before the Flood, it will be proper to examine, what degree of knowledge men must have pos- sessed some ages before that catastrophe. Among the proofs of antediluvian knowledge still exist- ing, the most incontestible are, the astronomical tables of the Bramins; and particularly those of irvalore, disco- vered by Mr. Gentil, about the middle of the last century. Their epoch coincides with the famous era of the Caly- ougham, that is, with the year 3102 before Christ: and this era must have been ascertained by observation; as Mr. Playfair shews, after ‘a strict and masterly examination, im the second yolume of the Edinburgh Transactions. And, if founded on preceding observations, as is most probable, these observations must have commenced 1200 years ear- her, that is, 4300 years before Christ.* The Deluge hap- pened * I am aware, that the conclusions, deduced by Mr. Playfair, have lately been combated, in the sixth volume of the Asiatic Researches; but, in my epinion, ineffectually. 131 pened 3169 years before the birth of Christ, according to Jackson’s chronology, (which I adopt); therefore, the Caly- ougham commenced sixty-seven years after the Flood; and the, observations, on which it was grounded, ,com- menced,.1133 years before the Flood: which agrees _re- markably well with the tradition of the Jews; for Josephus expressly mentions, that, the children, of Seth addicted themselves to astronomy before the Flood.*: j The, learned, Professor farther adds, that the construction of \these tables implies a great, knowledge of geometry, arithmetic, and even of the theoretic, parts of astronomy; that, those. who framed, them’ must have possessed, a cal- culus equivalent to trigonometry ; and that, upon the whole, it appears there existed, at that period, a body of science really astonishing. | That such a body of science ey ssciaky and. be com- municated to subsequent,ages, without the art of writing, is incredible: yet these tables, afford a sufficient proof, that astronomical, science, at least, had so. descended, and were; -consequently;: written. It may also..be inferred, that alphabetic writing had been known before the F lood; for the Sanscrit; writmg, in which these tables. exist, is. alpha- betic¢; and into this; theix original ianguage was soon tran- slated: :Mosés also informs us, that.a written) account (or rather history): of the descendants of Adam existed; from this» he transcribed, in the fifth chapter of Genesis, the Mi n2 names * Antiq. Lib. J. cap. ii 132 names of the ancestors of Noah. But it certainly con- tained much more, and related the most important trans- actions of the antediluvian ages; for St. Peter expressly tells us, Noah preached repentance to the antediluvians, 120 years before the Flood; a circumstance unnoticed by Moses.* While science was thus improved, we may conclude language received similar improvements; as we have al- ways seen its progress to perfection’ to keep pace’ with that of knowledge: it certainly did so, among the Ro- mans; and still more obviously, in modérn times. Among the Greeks, indeed, a singular exception occurred; as the perfection of their language long ‘preceded their improve- ments in science; the reason of which will soon be seen. When, therefore, we consider the length of time the’ pri- meval language had been spoken, namely, by the lowest computation, 1800 years, and, more probably, 2000; the longevity of those who spoke it, the few generations that succeeded one another, during that period, not more than four, and the consequent stability it must have acquired; it being impossible to suppose it much altered, during so short a transmission; the undisturbed state in which the more favoured descendants of Adam remamed, during the greater part of that interval; we have sufficient reason to conclude, that this language attamed a far higher degree of perfection, than any subsequent language, that could not * 1 Peter, iil. 20, 183 not enjoy the same advanbne ete was) enabled, Bo any pos- sibility, ,to- acquire. . f » Three, things are. indispensably necessary to the perfec ae sof - a} language: 1%, That at ,should , be capable of ex- pressing, with energy and, DILCISION, and,, consequently, without any ambiguity, all the various objects, which the senses may present, the understanding define, the imagi- nation depict, and the different shades and modifications of the invisible passions and séntiments which actuate the human breast. _ aly, That,melody should, exist. in, ithe ,; -prolation ofits sscvishal and, under the direction of genius, in the structure of its periods, their cadence, and yersification,, ; | Sdy,,'"That its construction. should ; he, ae) AEH. that ats designation of relations should not require any, patticu- lar’ fixed situation, but, Be capable, , without. ambiguity, of all that variety of position, which, mEhOEY, either in prose -or verse, may require. ‘on » Having thus) ascertained 1 in; what ‘the, perfection, of a nee guage consists, sand, the. probability, that it, may justly be ‘ascribed. to the, primitive language; and having also indi- cated the distinctive characters. by which, if it still exists, it may. yet, be recognized, I now proceed to examine, whe- ther they apply to! any,, or, to. which, of, the most ancient languages now known to us3 being furnished with criteria, by which their respective pretensions may, be, decided: The principal languages, whose claims have hitherto been severally insisted upon, aré, theo Hebrew,» the» Egyptian, 5 ’ the 434 The |Chittesé! and Che Giéeke?>ehowsh) the claim! lof this last has, as far as I can find, found only on advocate, names ly, ‘John Erick, a Gétihan préféssor}: whose® proofs, being chiefly ‘drawh’ fréin “Uistorted etymoldgies, were, by Jethers,, treated! With the’ iimOst “eotitempt* RSH Be iy LOMIW , joojdo evorigey o6fi3 ureidnais Vries tosdtiwe ai od? .oniteh guibanteisbau odi jmaoeig, yeni eganse »yiibom. bas).eobade toowRib oh Juis doigob, coisa tos sloiublw OF THE HEBR fuite oldizivai. ot to Jesoid secsd ‘Tite ‘fist distinctive ‘character Sethe. pratievel language, Adihely,” the Most’ Hatutdl “desighation Of tlie relations of nouns, is not fodnd! th ithe PRbrew. “Mi. Wilson, ii his Heébrew Giaiithai4 (the best and ‘easiest T have -seen;) tells us, * that nice Attention 86 thé CHanees of teriisatioh, «so « yéqitisite th acqtiting! “Che” kndwledge of “other ancient “ languages, has Neré no ‘existence; the ‘relations and de- “ pendencies of nouns, are not distinguished © by .ternnina- * tiohs of Cases, but By ‘particles or prepésitiolis :prefixed.” These; it is true, ate’ algo incorporated with’ thesword, bat not’ only they “are ‘general, But they ‘dicate the relation in the most’ clumsy nianner; for it i8 oftéi difficult’ toodis- tinguish, whether ‘they fort’ the radicaly 6¥ only denote its relation, which, Mi. Wilson‘ Acknhowlédgeés,. is! Very apt to perplex the learner, “ as’ he tnust’ strip'the noun: of these “ signs, before the primitive form can ts eat * See Michaeler, del Origine Lingua primaria, p- 500. ) | ae + P. 108. q°P. 116. 135, The. comparison of adjectives is performed in, the same awkward mapner;,and. is often. so, ambiguous, as, to, be uniptelligible,* The superlative is. formed, in, the. most, ins artificial and. infantine manner, chy Ere repetition: of the positive. is ied Se rll _ Nowns have, buts typa,.gendersy, the, anasculine and femi- nine; thus inanimate, things .are,..not), distinguished, ,from the, animate: ; just so, the vulgar, among; us,, frequently ,ex- press, themselves. Probably, this , defect, spas. productixe,of idolatry, joj dio 1 coeng 1o tedmiaobnsg vo There 4g. po,,dual, in ,the Hebrews. except, when things, which. are naturally double,, are mentioned; . as, the. £YES, the ears, the hands, heGrs (hence, also, it.meyer.occurs in the. New. Testament),,, Wilson,, indeed, does. not make even this exception; but I find it mentioned, hy Bythney,}- and Amama.{. Here, also, it differs from, the, primeval Jan- guage: in many instances, the singular and) plural coin- cide,-and can be uiteoticie only, by the sense, or other words, in the sentence.) 0 9) i .orrsG Yo Wie _ Lastly,. in verbs, neither parsons, moods; or tenses, vare marked by, the. changes, of their last.syllables; but jby means of letters of a particular order, which appear, some- times in the beginning, sometimes in the middie,, and sometimes.at. the end, of the.original word.. Another. wide deposits from the original: languages, _, ciel hoohai. . 1 From * For instance, in Gen. x..21.. ;, ..¢ P. 18. Be Syke om | Wilson, 149. “> vx & Tey BA, 136 * From these, and’ ‘maiy other inherent defects, the leatied Die Cleré; himself al ‘professor’ ‘OF the Hebrew! language, de- Clares, that ‘pethaps no language is fuller of anibibuity and obscurity.* 'Can'Such “be the language polished aut im- Riohed for twenty Cemeicn? Des “To this our Tate pious and. learned Primate, Newtome, answers, that'' thé? difficulties, ‘respecting these and other modifications of the' Hebrew verb, are considerable, ' but not invinciblé; that it‘is true, that the substitutions of one gender, number or person, for others, are bold and’ fie- quént; but ‘not iéxplicable “As ‘much ‘may be ‘said of the jargon; spoken by the English in ‘thé ‘days’ of Hen | III.; or‘in France, during the reign of Lewis IX. “The advocates of the Hebrew found its claim chiefly on the’ two following gtounds. Lid: «OMS , MARE That many or all'the antediluvian names are signifi- cant, in the Hebrew language, and’ derivable from it. But the learned Mr. Lanigan, lately Scriptural Professor in the University of Pavia, in the first volume of his Biblical Institutions, observes, that these names: are ‘as easily ‘deri- vable from the Chaldaic or Syriac, and’ still more easily from the Arabic. Grotius, Huet, and Le Clere think, that the real antediluvian names were: ‘translated into the He- pret; and they give many ‘instances’ of similar translations: thus the translator of Sanchoniatho into Greek, cally Adam, Protogon. Mr. Lanigan, indeed, thinks, that many of them cannot * * Preliminary Discourse to the Pentat. §. 6. + Preface to Ezechiel, p. xxxiv. and xxxv. 137 cannot be deemed translations; as their derivation from the Hebrew is forced and wiredrawn. It follows, then, that they are not of Hebrew origin. We have no reason to suppose, that Moses was acquainted with the antedilu- vian language: he found those names in his family-me- moirs; and derived them, as he could, from the Hebrew, or from the Arabic, which he well understood. Of such names, our learned Professor mentions four, Cain, Tubal Cain, Noah, and Babel: the true derivation of these, and some others, I shall soon have occasion to mention. Le Clerc thinks, that many of these names were given, not at the time of the births of the Patriarchs, but were rather by-names, derived from some remarkable event, that hap- pened in their time. And, indeed, this is evident, with respect to Phaleg or Peleg; as Moses expressly tells us, he was so called, because, in his time, the earth was divided between the descendants of Noah. Genes. x. 25. The second ground, on which the advocates for the He- brew rest its claim, is, that a number of words, of Hebraic origin, are found in many other ancient languages; as the Chaldaic, Syriac, Phoenician, and Persian. These, they think, are remnants of the ancient primeval language; and, since these are also Hebrew, they think that language must also be the Hebrew. But this mixture of Hebrew words, in those languages, is easily accounted for. It is now ge- nerally allowed, that the Phoenician, Canaanitish, and He- brew, were one and the same language. The Phoenicians. traded to all nations, and must have left them many VOL. X. r words; 138 words; as the French do with us at this day. The Medes, Persians, and other Eastern nations, may have received many more, from the Israelites dispersed among them. So the Greek colony, established at Marseilles, it is well known, communicated many words, which still remain in the French language, . After what has been said of the ambiguity of this lan- guage, it is needless to mention its uncouth guttural sounds, its unsusceptibility of the varieties of position, and other marks of imperfection. THE EGYPTIAN. Tuis language exhibits the same defects as the Hebrew, and still greater. The Copts neither decline their nouns, nor conjugate their verbs, otherwise than by prefixing par- ticles, sometimes of one or more syllables, and sometimes a single letter, which denote the case, gender, number, and person; several of them being joined together in one word, and the primitive word usually placed last. So that the difficulty of their language consists, in the incredible com- bination of the words and particles, in the change of the vowels, in transposing the middle parts of the words, and adding superfluous letters, to distinguish which requires great labour and skill.* THE * Wilkins, De Lingua Coptica, 1 Univers, Hist. folio, p. 226. | 139 THE CHINESE. Or the Chinese language, a very satisfactory account has been given, by our late accomplished and intelligent travellers, Sir George Staunton, and Mr. Barrow. The con- ‘struction of this language, Mr. Barrow* tells us, is ex- tremely simple: it admits of no inflection of termination, either in the verb, or in the noun; each word being the same invariable monosyllable, in number, gender, ease, or tense. The cases they distinguish, by general abstract signs, as we do in English; which, alone, as already seen, ‘plainly shews this could not be the original language of mankind; men never beginning by abstractions. Compari- ‘son is also made by adventitious particles; and the super- lative is marked, in the same awkward manner as in Hebrew, by a repetition of the positive: the tenses of verbs, of which there are only three, are also distinguished by abstract particles. Sir George, ‘indeed, thinks, that this language furnishes a practical proof, that the laborious structure, and intricate machinery, of the Greek and Ara- bic tongues, are by no means necessary, either to a com- plete communication on all the business of life, or even to the grace of elocution, or the harmony of verse. “sg @ "i T am * Pp. 264, 140 I am much disposed to entertain a different. opinion, on each of these particulars. There are many shades and dis- criminations of verbs, which cannot be indicated by par- ticles, suggesting the difference of time merely in the gross. The difference between definite and indefinite time is lost; and thus all pretensions to precision, the principal excel- lence, and the most necessary of all the qualifications of language, are abandoned, Indeed, of all known languages, spoken by a civilized nation, the Chinese hath the smallest pretension to precision. Every word has, at least, twenty different significations, besides the different aspirations; and these significations are only distinguished, by the difference of tone or accent; to perceive which, Sir George acknow- ledges, requires a nice ear, and delicate vocal powers, to render them exactly. How the grace of elocution, and the harmony of verse, can subsist, in such a confusion of dis- cordaut sounds, I am at a loss to conjecture: yet, even this contrivance is not always sufficient, to express the sense of a word; recourse must be had to the ultimate eriterion, tracing with the finger, in the air, or otherwise, the form of the written character of the doubtful sound. Such a language is, no doubt, very simple; but so is the Lingua Franca, which, in many respects, resembles it, but whose perfection, I suppose, nobody will vaunt. Of this sumilarity, Mr. Barrow gives some examples, page 281, and Sir G, Staunton, page 418, (in 8vo.). Adam Smith justly remark, “ that the simplification of the rudiments of lan- “‘ guages renders them more imperfect, and less proper, “ce for 141 for the purposes of language: for, if precision be re- quired, (which, indeed, the Chinese does not aim at,) such languages become more prolix; several words being necessary to express what might have been expressed by a. single word. Thus, the words Dei, and Deo, in Latin, sufficiently shew, without any addition, what relation the ' object signified is understood to stand in, to the objects expressed by the other words in the sentence; whereas, in English, and other modern languages, we must em- ploy, at least, two words, and say, of God, to God, and sometimes: four; for the. single word amavissem, we must say, I would have loved. This prolixity evidently enervates the eloquence of most modern languages.” Dr. James Gregory adds, that “ the moods of verbs, like “ “c “ ‘6s se 6s, “ss other inflections. of words, express, much better than any succession of words) can do, the intimate connexion and relation of various thoughts, which are not successive, but simultaneous, or co-existent, and which appear un- naturally disjointed, and, in some: measure altered, when they are expressed) by a. series) of gli ee each of them separately, and in succession.” *: dy, This simplification of the principles of languages, ‘renders them less agreeable to the ear: the variety of ter- mination in: the Greek and Latin, |‘ occasioned’ by their de- clensions and conjugations, gives a sweetness to their lan- guage, altogether unknown to any modern language. 3iys This * 2 Edinb. Trans, p. 216. wee 142 3dy, This simplification not only renders the sounds of our language less agreeable to the ear, but it also restraing us from disposing the sounds in the manner that might’ be the most agreeable; tying down words to a particulat situation, and forbidding almost every kind of inversion or transposition. THE GREEK. In this, and this only, most of the: characters of the pri- meyal language are’ found. It is perfectly original, being underived, in the opinion of the most profound antiqua- rian and ablest linguist of the last century,* from any other Oriental language, with the exception of a few words, borrowed from the Pheenicians, Thracians, and Scythians; and in its structure, it totally differs from all of them. In* this, the relation of nouns to each other, and of verbs to time, person, and number, are denoted in the most natural manner, and with the greatest precision and accuracy, by mere changes of, or additions to, the termi- nation. u It is equally happy, in expressing every modification of perception, passion and emotion, which may arise in, oc- cupy, or agitate the human mind. The dual number, in all cases, it almost exclusively possesses. Adam Smith, from, misinformation, conceived this * Hemsterhusius; sce the French translation of Herodotus, Vol. I. p. 276. 143 this number to exist in the Sclavonic, and in other Ori- ental tongues. In the Swedish it certainly exists, and in languages derived from it; as the Anglo-Saxon and Islan- dic: but the Swedes borrowed it from the Goths, who long resided’ in 'Thrace, and derived it from the neigh- bouring Macedonians, who certainly spoke a Greek dia- lect, though corrupt. In the Anglo-Saxon, and. Islandic, the dual is retained only in the pronouns; as the great Swedish antiquarian, Ihre, assures us. He denies it to be found in the Sclavonic, or any other Orientak:dialect, with which he was acquainted. The plural number of nouns of the neuter gender, being originally considered, from their similarity to each other, as one object, admitted a construction with. verbs in the singular number: a mode of construction, which was af- terwards unwarrantably abused. Even animated beings, considered merely as things, were often expressed. by neu- tral nouns. , _ Again, if we examine the degree of perfection, which the Greek attained, and still exhibits, we shall find it ac- knowledged, by the best judges, to exceed that which any other known language has ever reached. In proof of a fact, so well known, it is needless to accumulate au- thorities; one alone, of perhaps the ablest judge of the delicacies of expression, that has appearé@ in the last cen- tury, will be sufficient. It may easily be perceived I mean the celebrated Voltaire. Of the Greek, he thus speaks: ee The 144 * The most perfect of all languages must be that, which “is, at once, the most complete, the most sonorous, the “most varied in ats modes ef expression, and the most regular in its arrangement; which has most of compound “* words, whose ‘prosody best expresses the slow or impe- tuous emiotions of the mind; and whose sounds are most ** musical. "I'he Greek possesses all these advantages: ‘it *‘ has not the rudeness of the Latin; of which so many “words end in wm, ur, us. It has all the pomp of the Spanish, and all the sweetness of the Italian; and, by its long and short syllables, it ds superior, in musical expression, to \all living languages: so. that, even disfi- gured as itis, at this day, im Greece, it may still be re- garded as the most beautiful language in the universe.” Now, if we compare the degree of excellence,- which this language attained, in the earliest ages after the Flood, with the state of civilization of those who spoke it in those ages, we shall find the utmost disproportion -betwixt them; the inverse of what happened in any other age or country. Homer wrote 940 years before the Christian wera, when Greece was far from being thoroughly civilized; yet, in him, it is acknowledged, the Greek language appears, as polished and refined as in Sophocles, Euripides, or even Demosthenes, who wrote in the most ‘civilized periods. And, if we pietc® higher into antiquity, we find Linus, who lived 1500 years before Christ, and 300 years before the Trojan war, and his disciple, the first Orpheus, both so much admired, that the former, in subsequent ages, was 145 was thought the son of a muse; and the latter, of Apollo. Museus wrote a poem, called The Rape of Proserpine, 1400 yéars before Christ, according to the Parian Mar- bles.* Tatian, who flourished in the second century, men- tions many other poets, who preceded Homer.-j- Nor were there barely poets, but also many historians, before Homer; as Corinnus, Dictys Cretensis, &c. who wrote immediately after the Trojan war; and, consequently, nearly 1200 years before Christ.{ But, if we attend to the state of society, at the times of Linus and Orpheus, we shall find it highly barbarous, by the avowal of the most credible Greek his- torians themselves; and scarcely improved, in the age that immediately preceded the siege of Troy, and called the Heroic. Thucydides, who wrote about 410 years before Christ, tells us,|] that, in the earliest times, Greece enjoyed little or no repose. The various tribes, that inhabited it, had ‘no intercourse with each other: the stronger continually expelled the weaker from the more fertile parts; these sought refuge in the territory of Attica, which, being the most barren, was, at first, thinly inhabited; but, from these new accessions, became very populous. Yet, its inhabi- ‘tants did not form a political union with each other, nor had any common laws, before the reign of Cecrops, about VOL. xX: ‘ the * See the Appendix to Playfair’s Chronology. + Euseb. Prepart. Evang. Lib. X. cap. ii. ft Voss. de Hist. Greecis, Lib. 1V. cap. i. p. 428. ]] Lib. I. cap. ti. Apollodor, Lib. TEI. 146 the year 1556 before Christ.* In the ages, called Heroic, robbery and piracy were universally practised; the law of the strongest was almost the only one which they acknow- ledged, and openly avowed.} After the siege of Troy, al- most all the cities of Greece were disturbed by seditions; and the return of the Heraclide, eighty years after that siege, occasioned new commotions: in so much, that many years elapsed before peace was restored.t ‘This universal ‘fermentation forced many to migrate to Asia, and join their countrymen, long established in Ionia, olia, and Doris: yet it was in this tempestuous period, ‘that Homer was born and flourished. It does net appear, that any, either in that, or the preceding ages, applied themselves to the improvement of their mother tongue; neither, were it requisite, would their ignorance or circumstances permit them to effect it. When, then, did it attain, or frony what source did it derive, the excellence it possessed in the most barbarous ages? This forms a paradox, which can be solved, only, by supposing, that it originally descended to the Ionic race, from the earliest ages, in the game, or rather in a far su- perior degree of perfection; for, during that transmission, it, probably, contracted those defects, which may be ob- served in the earliest compositions that we now possess:|| To * 2 Goguet, 16, 19, 18. + Thucyd. Lib. I. cap. vy. Plutarch. Theseus. t Thucyd. Lib. I. cap. xii. l| Mr. Mitford tells us, ‘* no circumstance, in the history of the Grecian ¢ people, appears more difficult to account for, even in conjecture, than the « extraordinary 147 To explain, more particularly, how this transmission was effected, we must recur to the information conveyed to us in the Sacred History; and. to a few facts, which occur, also, in the profane. if Moses telates, that Noah had three sons, who survived the Deluge, Sem, Cham, and Japhet. Though Japhet is the last named, yet it appears that he was the eldest of the three, in the judgment of the most judicious commen- tators; of whom I need name no other, than Bishop Usher, and Le Clerc.. - 531 years after the Deluge, a multiplicity of languages: was supernaturally introduced. During the period, that in- tervened betwixt the Flood and this event, the posterity ef Noah became very numerous. Japhet had seven sons, Gomer, Magog, Madai, Javan, (or Jon,). Thubal, Mosoch, and Thiras. Javan, in whose line the Greek tongue de- scended, had four sons, Elisah, Tharsis,. Chittim, and Do- T 2 danim. “ extraordinary superiority of ferm and polish, which their speech attained, “ in an age beyond tradition, and in circumstances apparently most unfa- ‘ vourable. For it was amid continual: migrations, expulsions, mixtures of “various hordes, and revolutions of every kind, the most unquestionable: ‘ circumstances of early Grecian history, that was formed: that language, so “ simple in its analogy; of such complex art, in its composition: and: in- “ flection; of such clearness, force, and elegance, in its contexture; and of “such singular sweetness, variety, harmony, and majesty, in its sounds. Al- “ ready, in the time of Homer and Hesiod, who lived long before writing: *‘ was common, we find it in full possession. of these perfections,” &c. Vol, I.. p. 83. and 384. 148 danim. Sem and Cham had also several sons and grand- sons, whose names need not be mentioned; but it may not be amiss to observe, that the languages, spoken after the confusion, by the peculiar descendants of each of the three original Patriarchs, differed more widely, from those spoken by the descendants of the other two Patriarchs, than the languages, spoken by the descendants of each, differed from each other. Thus, the languages, spoken by the descendants of Japhet, differed more, from those spoken by the descendants of Sem or Cham, than. the Japhetic languages did from each other. p- 495, were Epirots. | 'Thus, the donic language was-antro- duced into the eastern and, western) pie e Grebe witheut the isthmus. Of the successors of ey im Rarosia; ‘sil ily reign of Cecrops, an. 1582 before Christ,* we have no account, According to Strabo, p. 624, he meigned in Beeotia: and, as he Jed back the Athenians, or the greater part of them, into Attica, he is generally esteemed the first’ king ef Athens. It has been said, indeed, that, he married: Acte; the daughter of Acteus, king of Athens, Pausan, 7; \but this Philocorus affirms to be; a fiction. Some say he was an Egyptian. It is highly probable,,that he travelled inte Egypt; but not that he was an Egyptian: for Euseb. Pre- par. Eyang..Lib .X..¢. x, expressly says, he was a native Athenian; and so does Apollodorus, Lib. III. c. xiii... He was said to be of a double nature; probably, because he spoke both the Greek and Egyptian languages. During his reign, two remarkable events oceunted ; namely, the conquest of Thessaly, by Deucalion, an. 1541; and ithe inundation, by which it. was laid waste, an, 1529, eommonly called, Deucalion’s, Flood. 'Deucalion was the son of Prometheus,; who was seid to have come from Mount Caucasus; but, probably, rather ) ) from * The dates, in the sequel, are to be understood of years preceding the ‘Ohristian era; and, generally, taken from T’Archer’s edition of Herodotus, Vol. VIL. [ ; + Dionys. Halicar. p. 14. 163 from) Caucasium, m the island of Chios; a port, mientidiied by Herodotus, Lib. V. §. 53, and, consequently, ait Loniam: for the Chians were admitted into the Ionian assemblies; as Pausanias attests, p. 532; though he admits, thiat-be {was ignorant: of the reason: But Apollodorus, Lib. LLL: e-:xati. - §. 6, expressly says) he: was.a native Athenian. It. is! cer tain, the name; Prometheus, was well. known in Athens; for Codras ‘hada son, called) Prometheus; Pausan., 528. Hence, it follows, that: Deucalion was also: an Athenian. He fled to Athens, during the’ flood, Parian Marbles, epoch 4, and, probably, remained there; for he died, and was buried there. Pausan..43.: Thessaly was, when invaded by Deucalion, possessed by the Pelasgi, who came: from Peloponnesus, am. 1727, con- diicted’ by Acheus, Phthius, and Pelasgus;, from whom three districts of Thessaly were named, Dionys. Halicar. p. 14. These Deucalion expelled, an. 1541, at the head. of an army, composed of Leleges, Curetes, and: a multitude of! the inhabitants of the foot of Parnassus. The Curetes were Etolians; so called from Curium, a city of Etolia, Strabo, 657, 692. The Leleges, Strabo deems a collection of various ‘tribes of Leucadians and Baotians, who settled im Loeris, and joined Deucalidn, p. 495, 496, and were afterwards. éalled Loerians, Dionys. Halicar. 14: The inha- bitants of the foot of Parnassus must have been Phocians. ‘Henee,’ I conebide,: tliat both Deucalion, and: his army, wett Tonians, and mostly Hellenes; and thus the Hellenic language: manner the Pelasgic, in Thessaly. x2 Dera 164 Deucalion reigned over all Thessaly, and inhabited Cyne, a city of Locris, Strabo, 660, 651: he had two sons, Am- phyction, and Hellen. Amphyction reigned over that part of Thessaly, that lay near Thermopylae, Par. Marbles, and Pausan. 815; and Hellen, over that part; called Phthiotis, Strabo, 587. Amphyction is celebrated for having formed a council, consisting of deputies from all the Grecian states or communities, existing in his time;,that is, accord- ing to the Parian Marbles, an. 1521. These were, the; Ionians, . © Phthiote, Dolopes, Dorians, *Thessalians, Malienses, Pausan. 815.» /Enians, Phocians, Magnetes, Locri Epicmenides, This account of the different states, represented in the Amphyctionic council, is of much aye dary) to our pre- sent enquiry; for by it we find, , iss That. the tribes therein mentioned, ea they alone, formed the really Greek population, at that period; to the exclusion of the Peloponnesians, who were then Pelasgi or Danai; and of the Boeotians, who were Cadmeans. Quy, That. the Athenians were then called Jonians; and, consequently, could not have been so called from. Jon, the grandson of Hellen, (as Herodot. Lib. VIII. §. 44, and most of the Greek historians, imagined; not knowing the true reason of that denomination;) for,Jon was. not : then *“ From Thessaliotitis, a district of Thessaly, See l’Archer, 564. i 165 then born.. Yet, to this reasoning, many would, perhaps, object, that the Dorians are here mentioned; who, ac- cording to Strabo, 587, were so called, from Dorus, a son of Hellen; who, nevertheless, was not then born. But Strabo was mistaken; for Andro, an earlier historian, whom he. quotes, p. 729, says, they anciently inhabited a district, of ‘Thessaly, called Doris; whence they came to Parnassus, where Dorus settled, and governed them: and hence they were called Dorians; not from him, but from the territory they inhabited, afterwards called Hestiotis. 3ily,, We may! remark, that, the Hellenes: are not even mentioned, as forming, a separate tribe from the rest; as Herodot. ‘Lib. I. §. 56,,asserts: for, if such\a tribe then existed, it could not fail of ‘being enumerated with the other, tribes. He is, therefore, mistaken, in representing them as a distinct tribe, inhabiting Phthiotis, in the reign ‘of Deucalion. In one sense, it is true, all the Greek | tribes might, and ‘probably were, even then, called Hel- lenes; as the greater part:of them descended from Hellas, the son of Javan, as already mentioned. But of this He- rodotus was ignorant:* as was also Thucydides, Lib. I. §. 3, who imagined the Hellenes derived their name from -Hellen,; the son of Deucalion: and also Pausan. 262, who thought all. Greece was called Hellas, from an inconside- rable i * Yet, BE this, the ancient Greeks seemed to neve some suspicion; for, Conon informs us, some thought Hellen to be a son of Jupiter Photius, 438 ; that is, a person’ of illustrious ‘but unknown birth. 166 rable district of that name; so called from Hellen, who built a city, to which it was annexed; but which was, soon after, deserted by Hellen himself, the inhabitants re- moving to Melitza, Strabo, 660. Hence, no other reason, for comprehending all the Greeks, under the name of Hellenes, can be given but that which I have assigned. © Thucydides, Lib. I. §..3, says, the Greeks were’ compre- hended under no common denomination, even so late as the days of Homer. Yet, it is certain, that all the imba- bitants of Greece, without the isthmus, were called) Hel- lenes, before the Trojan war, or shortly after:: for Homer, speaking of Ulysses, says, whose fame was spread all over Hellas and Argos, Odyss. Lib. I. v. 344. Here Pelopomne- sus, which was anciently called Argos, is distinguished from all the rest of Greece; and not merely from. the inconsi- derable territory of Hellas. It also appears, by the 2¢ Ehiad, v. 685, (831, English,) that the town of Hellas was re- peopled before the Trojan war: for Homer distinguishes the inhabitants of Hellas from those of Phthia, "And Hellas, blest With female beauty far above the rest. Strabo, also, p. 568, shews, that Hesiod, at least as an- cient as Homer, comprehended all the Greeks, under the nanie Hellenes. The Enians, Magnetes, Dolopes, and Malienses, were Thessalian tribes. See 8 Archer, under those names. The two first were afterwards called Bolians, Pausan. 508. Hellen 167 Hellen had three sons, Eolus, ‘his eldest, Doras, and Xuthus;. by whose. migrations or conquests, or those of theit. posterity, the) Greek language was propagated into Peloponnesus and Beeotia. ‘To. Eolus, Hellen Jeft that. part of ‘Thessaly, which he governed: to Dorus, be assigned a certain portion of his subjects, to form a new settlement: Xuthus, the youngest, passed. into Attica, where he married Creusa, the daughter of Evectheus, king of Athens. Dorus led his people to the foot;.of Parnassus, and founded three cities, Conon in) Photius, 438. . Yet, Herodotus says, he reigned in that part. of Thessaly, called Hestiotis; but he probably meant, that Derus, reigned oyer ithe the people of that district; whom,.accerding to,Conon, he led to the foot of Par- nassus.| Now. Parnassus is a mountain of Phocis. ‘Thus his‘account may, in somé measure, be reconciled swith that of,Conon; who expressly) says, that Dorts led his colony out,of the dominion of Hellen, and settled at the foot of Parnassus; and Strabo, 587, agrees with him. But both are mistaken, as I have already shewn, in thinking, that from. Dorus they received the name of Dorians. How the Greek language penetrated into Peloponnesus, andhigradually supplanted the Pelasgic, I shall now shew. )Xuthus,, ‘the jyoungest son of Hellen,. had two sons, Acheath and: Jon. ; Acheus having committed an iivolun- itary, homicide, was obliged to fly from Attica, and took zefuge. in} Laconia in) Peloponnesus, Strabo, 588, about the year 1407, |He there built four cities, Conon in Pho- tius, 168 tius, 438. It is then plain, that he was accompanied or followed by a number of Athenians. The inhabitants, from him, were called Achzans; and’ the country, Achaia. Laconia was the most southern part of Peloponnesus ; having the Laconic gulph on the south, Arcadia on the north, the Argolic gulph on the east, and Messenia on the west. Shortly after, namely, in 1406, Attica, being over-stocked with inhabitants, Jon, the younger brother of Acheus, led a considerable colony of Athenians into that part of Peloponnesus, then called Egialea, which bordered on the Corinthian gulph; and, at that time, subject to a Pelasgic king, called Silinous. This prince, to avoid hostilities, gave him his daughter in marriage, and appointed him his heir. In effect, Jon succeeded him, established “his colony, and called the country Ionia, Strabo, 588.) Pau- san. 522. An. 1404. Acheus, collecting his forces,’ from Egialea and Attica, passed into Thessaly, and recovered the share, which his father Xuthus should have: pecs Pausan. 521. Eolus, the eldest son: of Hellen, had several’ sons; one only of whom need here be mentioned,’ namely, Salmo- neus, who reigned in Thessaly, Diodor. 397, Apollodorus, Lib, I. cap, vii. §. 24. Being probably disturbed, by the invasion of Acheus, he passed, with a great number of Eolians, into Elis, in Peloponnesus; and possessed himself of a considerable part of it, on the banks of the -river Alpheus, and built the city Salmonea, 1 Diodor. 312. He was . 169 was received there the more readily, as Elis was peopled from Etolia, and its first king, Ethiolus, was a son of a daughter of Deucalion, Pausan. 375. Sicyon was, for many ages, governed by Pelasgic kings; but, after the death of Corax, Epopeus, a Thessalian, suc- ceeded him. His son, Laomedon, married Pheno, daugh- ter of Clytius, an Athenian; and also assumed an Athe- nian, called Sicyon, a grandson of Erectheus, king of Athens, as his partner in the kingdom, gave him his, daughter in'marriage, and named him his successor. From him, that territory, before called Egialea, was called Si- cyon. After him, Janiscus, also an Athenian, reigned: thus the Hellenic language became predominant. Pausan. 124, BAS es About the year 1374, Archander and Arciteles, sons of Acheus, passed from Phthiotis to Argos, and married two daughters of Danaus the second, who then reigned at Ar- gos: by them, in memory of their father, both Argos and Lacedemon were called Achaia. Pausan. 522. Not long after, that is, about the year 1362, Pelops, a native of Sipyle, a town on the confines of Phrygia and Lydia, came, with large treasures, into Peloponnesus, Thu- cyd, Lib. I. cap. 1x. hired a body of Acheans from Phthi- otis; which, at that time, was also called Achaia. ‘Strabo, 561. By marriage with Hippodamia, the daughter of Oeno- maus, he became master of Pisa) in Elis; and afterwards of Olympia. Pausan. 376. 1 Diodor. 317. “His son, Atreus, obtained the kingdom of Mycenx; and his - grandson, VOL. X, 4 Agamemnon, 170 Agamemnon, became still more considerable: thus the Hellenic language made a further progress. Arcadia was originally peopled by the Pelasgi; and an- ciently called Pelasgia. Pausan. 598, 599. How the Hel- lenic language was introduced into it, does not” clearly appear. It is certain, it was not by the introduction of strangers; for Pausan. 375, tells us, it was from its very origin, inhabited by the same people. It is probable then, since it certainly adopted that language, that, being a very small territory, and surrounded by people who spoke that language, its inhabitants gradually acquired it; as the people of Savoy did the French. Even if the account, given by some writers, of its conquest, by Arcas, the son of Orchomenus,. were true; yet, as this event is said to- have happened 1834 years before Christ; that is, forty-four years before the arrival of Ogyges, and, consequently, when the Pelasgic language was spoken all over Greece, the dif- ficulty of explaining, how it was supplanted by the Greek, would still remain. The Greek language was introduced into Beotia, at a much later period than into any other part of Greece. After the return of Cecrops into Attica, the Aones, Hy- antes, and other mixed barbarian tribes, remained in Be- otia, until the arrival, of (Cadmus, in 1549, with a. Pho- nician colony. After some fesistance, he obtained the en- tire possession of that country, and called it Cadmeia. Strabo, 615. However, after the lapse of many ‘years, \the descendants of Hellen, as appears by Diodorus, obtained ; apart 171 a part of it: for Eolus, the son of Hellen, had severai sons, as already mentioned. One of them, called Mimas, remained in Eolis, and had a son, called Hippotes; whose son, Eolus the second, had a daughter, called Arne; and she. had a son, called Beotus. This Beotus, with a num- ber of Eolians, invaded Cadmeia; possessed himself of a part of it, and called it Beeotia. Diodor. 311. From these descended those Boeotians, who assisted the Greeks in the Trojan war. Diodor. 312. Thucyd. Lib. I. cap. xii. .But the Pheenicians continued to occupy the greater part of Beotia, until the war with the Epigoni, an. 1307, Strabo, 615; at the conclusion of which, Thebes was taken, the inhabitants forced to fly into Illyria, and an Argive colony settled there; who ‘transferred the government to Ther-: sander, the son of Polynices, by an Argive princess. Pau- san. 722. At this time, and for upwards of a century after, the Ionic dialect, and no other, was spoken all over Greece. Pausan. 199, expressly tells us, that, before the return of the Heraclidz.to Peloponnesus, with an army of Dorians, the Argives spoke the same dialect as the Athe- nians; that is, until eighty years after the destruction of Troy. Thucyd. Lib. I. cap. xii. “Now it is well known, that: the ancient Attic dialect was ‘the same | as the :Ionic: Strabo, 513. Li soit! AY dn . Thus I have prowad en the sprimicted onsite was: introduced into Greece, by the Ionians, who inhabited Attica; and shewn how, from them, it was extended to the different regions that composed;it. fs x2 It 172 It were difficult, however, if not impossible, to conceive how an entire language, and, particularly, one so perfect as the Greek, could subsist, among a people so rude and un- settled as the early Greeks, and who had so little peaceful intercourse with each other,.if not committed to writing, and preserved’in books, composed long before their lapsing into a state so unfavourable to literature. And, accord- ingly, we do find, that such books existed in the earliest ages. .Diodorus, Lib. V. p. 376, tells us, that several lite- rary monuments existed in Greece, which were lost by a great inundation, probably, that of Ogyges, by which At- tica was laid waste; and from which he fled, with preci- pitation, into Beotia.* But many may have been saved; and, certainly, some existed, in the age of Cecrops: for Tacitus, Lib. XI. Annal. c. xiv. says, that many attributed the invention of letters to him; which could not be, 1 books did not exist in his time.j It appears, also, from Diodorus’s account, that these literary monuments existed, at the time of the inundation, in Attica only; and not in those parts inhabited by the Pelasgi: for he tells us, that the Egyptians, claiming to themselves the invention of the astronomical science, the Greeks had . nothing to reply. Now, as the inundation reached no other part of Greece but Attica, they could have replied, if any astronomical books: had existed in the parts inhabited by the Pelasgi. We * Mount Helicon was a very proper place of refuge. + If we credit Cedrenus, p. 8!, Deucalion wrote a history of the flood; namely, that which happened in his time. ' 173 We have, also, strong reasons to presume, that the Toni- ans, on the continent, had books, previous to the arrival of Ogyges in Greece. Where else could those astronomi- cal observations be made, or those treatises composed, which the inundation swept away? That the letters they used, were the most ancient’ known in Greece, appears by several testimonies. ‘T'acitus tells us, Annal. Lib. XI. c. xiv. that the Latin letters were formed as were the most ancient letters in Greece; forme literis Latinis. que veterri- mis Grecorum: and, Pliny tells us, these forms were the Tonic; gentium consensus tacitus primus omnium conspiravit, ut Ionum literis uterentur; veteres Grecas fuisse, easdem pence que nunc Latine. Histor. Natur. Lib. VII. ec. lvii. and lviii. Mr. Astle, than whom no man penetrated deeper into this subject, tells us, p. 56, of his treatise on the Origin of Writing, that, “ after the Romans had established the ** use of the Ionic letters, they seem not to have acknow- * ledged the Pelasgic and Etruscan to have been Greek “ alphabets. The most learned of them knew none older * than the Ionic; as appears, by the Greek Farnese in- * scriptions of Herodes Atticus.* This learned man, out “ of a sacred regard to: antiquity, caused the oldest ortho- ““ graphy to be observed in the writing; and the letters to “ be delineated after the most antique forms that could “ be found; and they are, plainly, no other than the Ionic, * or right-handed characters.” But we shall presently see, that the Pelasgic and Ionic letters were nearly the same. . lt * He was prefect of Asia, A. D. 97. 174 It has been long and very generally held, on the au- thority of Herodotus, Lib. V. §. 58, that the Greeks were unacquainted with letters, before the arrival of Cadmus, an. 1549; but Mr. l’Archer has well shewn, that the text of Herodotus, on which that opinion is principally found- ed, has been misunderstood; and that Herodotus does not say, that letters were brought into Greece by Cadmus, but only some letters, 4 Archer, 254. Cadmus introduced only three letters, Zeta, Theta, and Chi; which, for the facility of arithmetical calculation, (best understood by the Phe- nicians, a commercial people,) were generally received. Diodorus also, Lib. V. §. 57, says, that it was believed that Cadmus first brought letters into Greece: but, §. 74, he says, that the Phoenicians were not the inventors, but barely changed their form. Many have also supposed, that the Pelasgic letters were the first known in Greece, and more ancient than the Ionic: but this is evidently a mistake; for Pliny, Lib. VII. eap. lvi. tells us, that the Pelasgi introduced letters into Latium. And, in the two following chapters, he tells us, that the Latin letters were nearly the same as the most ancient Greek, and were the Jonic: which is confirmed by Tacitus, and Herodes Atticus. é These Pelasgi were either those, who, according to Di- onys. Halicarnass. Lib. I. §. 18, being expelled from Thes- saly, by Deucalion, passed soon after into Italy, an. 1539; or those that followed Evander, from Arcadia, into Italy, an. 1350; or under CZnotrus, also from Arcadia, at a much earlier 175 earlier period, an. 1837. Dionys. Halicar. Lib. I. §. 11. However that may be, it is plain, the Pelasgic and [onic were nearly the same. Dionysius expressly says, the colony, conducted by Evan- der, brought letters into Italy, Lib. 1. §. 31, 33; and this I think the most probable opinion. The Pelasgi occupying, in the earliest ages, the greatest part of Greece, the letters they used, though the same as the Ionians also used, were more generally known under the name of Pelasgic. Hence it is, that Orpheus and Linus are said, by Diodorus, Lib. III. §. 66, p. 236, to have written their poems in Pelasgic letters. But he con: founds the first Orpheus, who, according to Solinus, p.718 and 719, lived eleven generations before the Trojan war; and, consequently, in the year before Christ 1633, with Orpheus, the Argonaut. The elder Orpheus then wrote long before the arrival of Cadmus in Greece: for the proof of this I refer to Mr. Jackson, who, in the third volume of his Chronological Antiquities, p. 138, has treated this subject very fully. Mr. l’Archer, also, in the fourth volume, p. 256, of his translation of Herodotus, has shewn, that the Pelasgic, and ancient Attic letters, were the same; though he ac- knowledges, that he is at a loss to account for their iden- tity, or how they were introduced into Attica; not no- ticing the Ionic descent of the Athenians. Herodotus, Lib. V. §. 58, expressly tells us, that the Ionians~ of old had books, written on parchment, called Dipththere. Lastly, 176 Lastly, the etymology of antediluvian names is as easily found in the Greek, as either in the Hebrew, Syriac, or Arabic; or even more easily. Thus, Adam is derived from Ava, pater; Eve, (or rather Cheva, as Dathe has it,) from Exuz, pepert; Cain, from Kem, novus, being a new man; Abel, from Agar, alas; Seth, from 2m, quero, being sought for, in the room of Abel; Noah, from nev, a ship. Tubal Cain I omit; as this name was given to a remote descen- dant of Cain, long after his banishment; and, consequently, when the primitive tongue was probably altered. Babel, from B24, a starting-post; as it was from thence all man. kind set out, to settle in different countries. The He. brew, which is said to contain the roots of many lan- guages, did nothing more, than strip some primeval words of their ‘terminations, and thus disfigured them. ANTIQUITIES. VoL. x. a ON THE ORIGIN OF ROMANTIC FABLING IN IRELAND. BY JOSEPH COOPER WALKER, M.R.IA. &c. &c. COMMUNICATED BY WILLIAM PRESTON, ESQ. M.R.I.A. &C. READ, JUNE 10**, 1805. To trace the origin of romantic fabling, in modern Europe, would be a curious, and, perhaps, not a fruitless enquiry. In proportion as the literary treasures of the East shall be opened and displayed, the means of acquir- ing information, on this interesting subject, will, probably, be increased. It would seem, that the magicians, knights, and damsels, with which Fairy-land is peopled, owed their birth, to the warm fancy of the Oriental romance-writers. Through what channels, the fictions of the East found their way into Europe, may be conjectured, but cannot be positively determined. To the time of the Crusades, their introduction is generally referred. I think, however, that the commercial intercourse, which formerly subsisted, between the Levant, and some of the principal Italian states, opened a channel, equally wide, and certainly more secure. ‘I'he tumultuous crowd, that rushed to the rescue AQ of v of the Holy Sepulchre, had not, probably, either leisure or inclination for mental gratifications. In the acquisition of spoils, they seem to have rather exercised their prowess, than their taste. But, we will not weary ourselves with conjecture, in regard to the medium, through which those fictions flowed into Europe; it is enough, for our present purpose, that we not only find them there, during the middle ages, but can trace them, in some of the popu- lar romances of that period. Ariosto supplies us with an instance in point. The story of Schariar and his _bro- ther, in the Arabian Nights Entertainments, evidently. ap- pears to have laid the foundation for the well-known tale of Astolpho and Jocundo, in Canto XXVIII. of the Or- lando Furioso.* I am, I will confess, inclined to consider Italy, as the great emporium of the fictions under consi- deration. And as the monks of that delightful region, as well as those of France, occasionally relaxed from their severer studies, in excursions to Fairy-land, the Oriental fictions might, through their means, have spread to the neighbouring countries. Some of the early romances, as well as the legends of saints, were undoubtedly fabricated, in the deep silence of the cloister.j- Both frequently sprung from the warmth of fancy, which religious seclu- fii sion * Hole’s Arthur, pref. p. viii. + Vid. Ritson’s Dissertation on Romance and Minstrelsy, prefixed to An- cient English Metrical Romances, Vol. I. See, also, the elegant and accu- rate Mr. Ellis’s Historical Sketch of the Rise and Progress of the English Poetry and Language, prefixed to Specimens of the Early English Poets. 5 sion is so well calculated to nourish; but the ‘former: were adorned with foreign embellishments. i While the See of Rome was fostering, with anxious: so- licitude, the Catholic church in Ireland,! missionaries) vere occasionally sent, from the several monastic foundations on the Continent, to regulate the ritual; and, at the same time, to invigorate superstition, by furnishing fresh sup- plies of holy legends. Amongst these, it may be presumed, some of the profane -romances, fabricated in the Continen- tal cloisters, were introduced (perhaps we might say smug- gled) into this country. And, as the brilliant. fictions of: the East were the elements, .of which those romances were chiefly composed, they thus obtained a footing in, Ireland, and furnished materials for the metrical, tales of our early bards.* To the stock of materials thus supplied; were, probably, * Availing myself of the privilege of a note, I shall embrace this occasion, to observe, that the splendour of the provincial Irish courts, at a very re- » mote period, which strikes and astonishes us, in some of our historians, (par- ticularly Keating,) borrowed, in all probability, a good deal of their lustre, from the romances alluded to in the text. Wanting the’ assistance of authen- tic documents, our historians have been tempted to fill up the void, with materials, drawn from the historical tale: ‘of the bards; and have thus been unconsciously led to ascribe, to the anctent Irish, the customs and’ manners of the East; forgetting they were only employed by the bards as poetical embellishments: Hence, the romantic air,’ which our early history wears.—I hope my candour, on this occasion, will not*be mistaken for retraction. Al- though my crude productions, on the subjects of the history and antiquities of Ireland, glow with all the warmth of youthful enthusiasm, it will not, I trust, be found, that I-was led into wilful» misrepresentation, «I may haye inadvertently erred; but my authorities are before! the public, 6. probably, added many Moorish and Arabian fables, and Spanish Historias de Cavallerias, which might have found their way to the western coast of this island, by means of the commercial intercourse, which subsisted so early, and so long, between Spain and Galway.* “A very gallant gentleman, of the North of Ireland,” (says Sir William Temple,) “ has told me, of his own ex- “* perience, that, in his wolf-huntings there, when he used to “ be abroad in the mountains three or four days together, “ and lay very ill a-nights, so as he could not well sleep, “ they would bring him one of the tale-tellers, that, when “ he lay down, would begin a story of a king, or a gyant, “a dwarf, and a damsel, and such rambling stuff; and continue it all night long, in such an even tone, that you heard it going on’ whenever you awaked.”} Now, as giants, dwarfs, and damsels, are topics, in which the Eastern romances are very conversant, we can be at no loss to discover the source, whence they flowed into Ireland,t though * The Irish prose romances of the middle ages, seem, in general, to have been constructed, on the Spanish model; at least, such of them, as have met my observation, were interspersed with poetical pieces, like the Historia de las Civiles Guerras de Granada, + Miscel. Essay IV. { Pharrob, (or, as the name was sometimes written, Forroch or Ferragh,) a giant, evidently of Eastern extraction, was the subject of a war-song, in use amongst the Irish kerns; and a name of terror in the armies of the early Irish. Historical Memoirs of the Irish Bards, p. 96. It is a curious fact, that we find a Sir Ferragh among the knights of Ariosto; who, certainly, cannot be suspected of haying borrowed, either the name or the hero, from the Irish bards. z though we cannot determine, with certainty, the medium through which they passed. But I shall now proceed to adduce a few instances, in support of my hypothesis. The similitude, between the pathetic Ivish tale of Con- loch, and the story of Rustam, as related by the Persian poet, Ferdusi,.in his heroic poem, entitled Shah Nameh, is almost too strong to admit of its being supposed acci- dental. “ Ferdusi relates,” (I borrow the words of the inge- nious Sir William Ouseley,) ‘‘ that, after a sumptuous feast, “ and magnificent entertainment, given, in honour of Rus- * tam, by the king of Sitemgam, to which wine and music “ contributed all their charms, a couch or bed being care- “ fully prepared for the Persian hero, (Rustam,) he retired * to rest; and, after a short time, was astonished at the ap- “‘ pearance of a lovely damsel, who advanced from behind *“‘ the curtains and hangings.” After a glowing description of the personal charms of the damsel, and a relation of the particulars of her conversation, with the hero, Sir William proceeds. ‘ Of this mysterious interview, and “ the subsequent union of our hero with the princess, “ the result was‘a son, whom the king, her father, edu- “ cated, after Rustam’s departure, and called by the name of Sohratb. The youth, having learned from his mo- ther, the strange circumstances of his birth, and of Rustam’s fame, resolved to set out, in quest of adven- “‘ tures, and immediately commenced a séries of brave “and gallant actions. But being so unfortunate, as to “ encounter his own father, each ignorant of his relation 66 to $ n oN to the other, the issue of the combat proved fatal to Sohraib; who did not, however, expire, until it was discovered that he fell by a parent’s hand. The circum- “ stances attending this discovery, the dying words, and “ filial affection, of the ill-fated youth, and the father’s “ vehement affliction and distress, afford the poet, Ferdusi, “a fine subject, for many interesting and beautiful pas- “ sages.”* Of the Irish tale, I shall now give the outlines, illus- trated with extracts, from the very elegant and spirited version of Miss Brooke.}-. Conloch, “ haughty, bold, and “ brave,” al n a “ Came to visit Erin’s coast; Came to prove her mighty host! Finding the Finian chiefs assembled, on some particular occasion, he hurls defiance at them, and While he spoke, collecting all his might, Fierce he addrest his conquering arms to fight; No stop, no stay, his furious faulchion found, Till his dire hand an hundred warriors bound: Vanquish’d, they sunk beneath his dreadful sway, And low on earth their bleeding glories lay. A messenger * Persian Miscellanies, p. 95, 97, 115. + Reliques of Irish Poetry, p. 9—31; a work, of which Ireland has reason to be proud. 9 A messenger is then dispatched for Cucullin. He ar- tives, and challenges Conloch to single combat; but first requests he will To him his purpose and his name confide,, And what his lineage and his land declare.. To this requisition, Conloch gives an unwilling refusal. He knows he is about to raise his arm against a parent; but his honour, as a knight, will not allow him to decline’ the combat, or declare his name. Reluctant, then, the chiefs commenc’d the fight, Till glowing honor rous’d their slumbering might{ Dire was the strife each valiant arm maintain’d, And undecided long their fates remain’d ; For, till that hour, no eye had ever view'd A field so fought, a conquest so pursu’d! At length Cucullin’s kindling soul arose; Indignant shame recruited fury lends; With fatal aim his glittering lance he throws, And low on earth the dying. youth extends. Conloch,' feeling the approach of death, addresses Cucullin, in the following pathetic terms. Approach!—the wounded youth reply’d,— Yet,—yet more closely nigh! On this dear earth aby that dear side, O let me die!— VOL. X. B pi Thy 10 Thy hand,—my father,—hapless chief!— And you, ye warriors of our isle, draw near, The anguish of my soul to hear, For I must kill a father’s heart with grief.* As this passage (a passage not inferior, perhaps, to any of those passages in the Shah Nameh, alluded to by Sir William Ouseley) exhibits a fine subject for the pencil, I shall submit it to the contemplation of the Academy; while I proceed to the relation of another Irish tale, which bears evident marks of an Oriental origin. The: tale in question, is entitled, Moira Borb;:of which also Miss Brooke has given a translation. While the Finian chiefs range carelessly along the banks of the fierce Mac-bovar, or river Erne, which, in its fall, near Ballyshannon, occasions. the celebrated salmon-leap, they are surprised, by the,appearance of a lovely damsel, in an enchanted bark. The damscl lands, and is cour- teously received by the chiefs; who, observing her trem- bling apprehensions, enquire into the cause. She relates her story. ie : O! I am follow’d o’er the rolling wave! O! mighty Finn! thy trembling suppliant save! The son of Sora’s king with wrath pursues, The chief of spears, whose arm the host subdues! While * After reading this passage, we cannot wonder, that Spenser should de- ‘clare, that the poems of the Irish bards ‘* savoured of sweet wit and good “©. invention.” ii While she speaks, a mighty warrior appears, riding over the waves, upon a magic steed.. Reaching the shore, he rushes forward, and seizes the trembling damsel. A com- bat. ensues, between him and the. Finian chiefs, in: which he falls; and, immediately after, receives sepulchral _ho- nours. _ The maid continues in the camp. Miss Brooke concludes, from the following passage in the poem, that ae story does not end here. Woe to the champions of that lovely dame! Woe to the land, to which her beauty came! On these lines, she observes, in a note, “ It is probable, “ that this passage alludes to some subsequent conse- “ quences of the death of Moira-borb.”. It may, there- fore, be presumed, that the heroine of. this poem was, like the Armida of Tasso,* a déceitfal' damsel; whose ob- ject was, to seduce some of the Finian chiefs from their duty; and destroy or enervate, them, by female wiles, and the power of enchantment. Indeed, I am inclined to think, that the Italian and, the Irish bards drew the materials, of which their respective tales are: composed, from the same source. ‘The similitude is certainly striking. That Tasso never saw the Irish tale, is highly probable sf and, if he B 2 had 2 resi a Liberata, Canto IV. + It cannot be safely asserted, that the metrical tales of the Irish were known on the Continent; but’ it is an; undoubted fact, that the Irish bards not only imitated, but sometimes translated, the French and Italian romances. An Irish yersion. of Huon! de Bourdeaus’ still exists. It may, however, be supposed, that the translations and imitations, to which J allude, were sub- sequent 12 had seen it, he undoubtedly could not have read it: ‘yet, it may be presumed, it was written before he was born. Miss Brooke, on the presumptive evidence of the language, refers it to the middle ages. If, therefore, it supplied Tasso with a foundation for his beautiful episode of Armida, he must have found it in some other language; and, perhaps, under some other form. Without meaning, however, to in- sist on the probability of my conjecture, I shall exhibit a few parallel passages, from the two poems, and leave the reader to decide. All’ apparir della belta novella Nasce un bisbiglio, e’l guardo ogn’un vintende; Siccome 1a, dove Cometa, o Stella Non piu vista di giorno in ciel risplende: E traggon tutti per veder chi sia Si bella pellegrina, e chi Vinvia. Argo non mai, non vide Cipro, o Delo D’abito, o di belta forme si care. > Her matchless charms the wond’ring bands surprize, Provoke their whispers, and attract their eyes; So mortals, through the midnight fields of air, Observe the blaze of some unusual star. Sudden they throng to view th’ approaching dame, Eager to learn her message, and her name. Not Argos, Cyprus, or the Delian coast, &e. HOOLE. And, sequent to the time of Spenser; else he would not have omitted to notice them, in his very curious and interesting account of the Irish Bards; an order of men, whose ‘ history” (as Dr. Brown justly observes) ‘ is, perhaps, «© of all others, the most extraordinary.” ° ‘3 And, oh, to tell the charms her form array’d?’ The winning ‘sweetness that) her face display’d! On her aloneiwe could or think or gaze, And our rapt souls were lost. in sweet amaze. MOIRA-BORB, Stassi l’avaro sguardo jin-sé raccolto, ,, ;. FE i teésori d?Amore, e, i;suoi;nasconde.* . Declin’d on earth, her modest look denies, To shew the starry lustre of her eyes. _ HOOLE. Deck’d by soft love, with sweet attractive grace, And all the charms of mind-illumin’d ‘face; Before our host the beautcous stranger bow’d, And, thrown to earth, her eyes their glories shroud.’ MoIRA-BORB. Donna, Che da te si ricerca? e donde Wensi? 5 Qual tua ventura, ‘o nostra, or ‘qui ti ‘mefia? : ; : Mois Say, * This passage is rendered, Jess elegantly, but more faithfully, by Mr. Doyne,— : Her spareful eyes, their-brightest beams retain’d ; Love’s treasure, and her own, were there conceal’d. Doyne’s translation of the Gerusalemme Liberata, which was once, much read and admired, at least for its fidelity, seems to be now almost totally un- known. It is very extraordinary, however, that it should have escaped the notice of Mr. Hoole. Philip Doyne was an Irish gentleman, of taste, talents, and erudition. While he was a student in the College of Dublin, he distin- guished himself by some poetical exercises. He afterwards undertook, with the assistance of his Italian master, Signor Palermo,: a translation of Tasso’s noble poem, in blank verse, which was published by Ewing, in 1761, in two volumes octayo. He died soon after. 14 Say, dafnsel!— ton znvitds: of ; What fortune bids. thee to our “oe —ialaraee What fortune sends to'us a form so fainiiols + What art thou? i o2 Iqei imo be HOOLE. Soft mariner! (thé son’ of Cumhal ery’d,po ve"! What chance has’ torn theé’ from protection's side? Why com’st thou here, and from what happy earth? And whosé the noble race that Pea thee birth? ~‘Morra-BORB. Il tuo lodar troppo alto sale; . yy Né tanto insuso il merto nostro arriva. =, Cosa vedi, signor,, non pur mortale, peti Ma gia morta ai, diletti, al, duol sol viva. Mia sciagura mi spinge in loco ‘tale, Vergine pellegrina, e fuggitiva. Ricorro al pio Goffredo, e in lui confido: Tal va di sua bontate intorno il grido. Too far thy praise extends, (she made reply,).. My merits ne’er attain’d a flight so high. Thy eyes, O chief! a mortal wretch survey, To pleasure dead, to grief a living prey! Unhappy fate my footsteps hither Jed)! © ©) aul’'P A fugitive forlorn, a wand’ring maid! he Godfrey I seek, on him my hopes depend, Oppression’s scourge, and injur’d virtue’s friend. HOOLE. Truth, O' great chief! my artless ‘story frames: A mighty king my filial duty claims. But princely birth no safety could bestow; And, royal as I am, I fly from woe: Long have I look’d, that mighty arm to see, Which is alone of force to set me free; 15; To Erin’s far fam’d chief, for aid.Lfly,, , And on that aid. myitrembling hopes rely. MOIRA-BORE, But I shall not multiply. quotations., ‘Unwilling to tres- pass too long on the patience of the: oAeaderay, IT shall adduce but a single instaticé more, * in support of my po- sition. The story of. the ‘Ring, as “related by Trissino, in the Italia Liberata,* and by. the author of the Irish poem of the Chase, seem to bear so ‘close an’ affinity to each other, that, it may be” presumed, ‘they were raised upon the same foundation. But that foundation lies, and will, probably, ever lie,. “hid in night.”. In both tales, we may discover the colouring of magic, with which the Saracens of the middle ages, then’ adepts in chemistry, tinctured all the fables, which sprung from. their brilliant and cre- ative imaginations. , Belisarius, having: ouiinn de ies a. deeikincst of his army; to watch the motions of the enemy; the warriors are met, at the entrance of the camp, by - ~ Una ‘donzella Tanto leggiadra,'‘e’ ‘Braziosa in’ vista,’ Ch’ arebbe accesa ogni ¢ celata mente: Ben’ era piena di fallaci inganni: This damsel, who appears a ab diiedIate € mesta,” says, sighing, to the admiring chiefs, ae Voi mi parete Cavalieri cone: Di gran yalore, e di pietade adorni; Pero LID Vs 16 Perd prendo ardimento di pregarvi, Che m’ ajutate in questo mio bisogno. ~ Io fui figliuola gia d’ una gran donna, Signora, del paese di Bitonte, Che maritommi al Duca di Crotone, E diedemi per dote un solo anello Di pregio estremo, e di valore immenso: Questo avea tal virtu, che s’ io il basciava, E poi toccava ogni qualunque cosa, Quella si convertiva in seta, o in oro, © in tutto quel, ch’ i? avea dentr’ al pensiero, Or’ io tornando al dolce mio terreno, Per rivedere i miei, con questo anello, - Ch’ io nol lasciava mai da me lontano; Passai vicina ad una bella fonte; E veduta, ch’ io l’ ebbi, ivi discesi Per bere, e I’ anel presi, e lo basciai, Volendo farmi un’ ottima bevanda: Ma mentre che volea toccar con esso L’ acqua del fonte, e trarmi ivi la sete, Mi sopravenne un Cavalier armato ' Con dui giganti; e con orribil voce Si mi sgridaro, ch’ io lasciai I’ anello Cadermi per timor nella fontana: Poi quei crudeli mi tiraro indietro, Ne voller pit, ch’ io, m’ appressasse ad essa; Ond@’ io, per non lasciar si ricca gioja, Qui mi rimasi, e vo cercando ajuto: FE s’ alcun mi sara tanto cortese, Cir atterri il Cavaliere, ond’ io racquisti La mia si cara, e prezioso gemma; 1 saro piu di lui, che di me stessa. Yielding 17° Yielding to her requisition, the chiefs attend her to the jake or fountain, where they find an armed knight, the son of an enchantress, ready to receive them. They engage in combat with him. They are vanquished, and led away prisoners to the palace of the enchantress, un- der the guard of the two giants mentioned by the artful damsel. It is not necessary, for our present purpose, to relate the adventures which followed; I shall only observe, that the waters of the fountain, into which the damsel pretended she had dropped her ring,. were endued with miraculous powers, Chiunque beve Di si dolce acqua, tutto si risana; Onde é detta la fonte del Sanajo. Let us now turn to the Irish tale.* During a feast, given in the hall of Almhain to the Fi- nian chiefs, Finn steals from the festive board “ to breathe “ the fragrant gale.” An enchanted doe suddenly appears before him. He calls his dogs, and pursues her to Slieve- Guillin, where she instantly vanishes. Finn then looking around, discovers, near a small lake, . A weeping fair, Upon a bank reclin’d, In whose fine form, and graceful air, Was every charm combin’d. OTe. c hore The * Reliques of Irish Poetry, page 73. 16 The chief approaches the fair mourner, and addresses her, Hast thou, sweet maid! of golden hair! Beheld my hounds in chase? She replies, Thy chase, O king, was not my care; I nothing of it know; Far other thoughts my bosom share, The thoughts, alas, of woe! Alas, my ring, for whose dear sake These ceaseless tears I shed, Fell from my finger, in the lake, (The soft-hair’d virgin said.) Let me conjure thee, generous king! Compassionate as brave, Find for me now my beauteous ring, Phat fell beneath the wave. The tale proceeds: Scarce was the soft entreaty made, Her treasure to redeem, When his fair form he disarray’d, And plung’d into the stream, At the white-handed fair’s request, Five times the lake he try’d; On ev'ry side his search address’d, Till he the ring descry’d. But 19 But when he sought the blooming maid, Her treasure to restore; , His powers were gone,—he scarce could wade To reach the distant shore! That form, where strength and beauty md& To conquer or engage, Paid, premature, its mournful debt, To grey and palsied age. Finn is soon afterwards found by his chiefs, in the state described by the poet. They draw the enchantress from a cave, in which she had concealed herself, and oblige her, by threats, to disenchant their leader. She presents him with a medicated cup, He drinks, and immediately His former grace, His former powers return’d; Again with beauty glow’d his face, His breast with valour burn’d. I shall now conclude. I have not the vanity to think, that I have established my hypothesis; but, I flatter my- self, I have thrown out a hint, which ‘may lead to a curious and interesting investigation by some abler hand. POSTSCRIPT. StnceE writing the above slight essay, it has occurred to me, that it might be observed that the story of Armida originates from that of Circe. I grant it might, with much appearance of probability, be traced to that source,—the fountain whence the Alcina of Ariosto, and the Acrasia of Spencer sprung. But circumstances may be found, in the story of Armida, and in the tale of Moira-Borb, which Homer certainly did not supply, and which may be dis- covered in the Oriental writers. I do not, however, insist on my hypothesis. I merely throw out a hint for investi- gation.—I might have urged the probability of the Irish bards being descendants of an Oriental colony; and inhe- Titing, of course, the inventive faculties, peculiar to the East: but I have studiously avoided every assertion, or conjecture, that could lead to controversy. I have no system to support. END OF VOL. X. Bh to AO py? 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