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  MAGIC,

  PRETENDED MIRACLES,

  AND

  REMARKABLE

  NATURAL PHENOMENA.


  _PHILADELPHIA_:
  AMERICAN SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION,
  NO. 146 CHESTNUT STREET.

  _LONDON_:
  RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY.


NOTE.--The _American Sunday-school Union_ have made an arrangement
with the _London Religious Tract Society_, to publish, concurrently
with them, such of their valuable works as are best suited to our
circulation. In making the selection, reference will be had to the
general utility of the volumes, and their sound moral tendency. They
will occupy a distinct place on our catalogue, and will constitute a
valuable addition to our stock of books for family and general reading.

As they will be, substantially, reprints of the London edition, the
credit of their general character will belong to our English brethren
and not to us; and we may add, that the republication of them, under
our joint imprint, involves us in no responsibility beyond that of a
judicious selection. We cheerfully avail ourselves of this arrangement
for giving wider influence and value to the labours of a sister
institution so catholic in its character and so efficient in its
operations as the _London Religious Tract Society_.

☞ The present volume is issued under the above arrangement.




CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER I.

                                                                    PAGE
  The magi of the east--Magical power attributed to numbers,
    plants, and minerals                                               5


  CHAPTER II.

  Feats of modern magicians--Their wonders explained--The
    snake-charmers of India--A Chinese delusion--The magician of
    Cairo                                                             10


  CHAPTER III.

  Machines considered magical in ancient times--Remarkable modern
    automata--Minute engines--The calculating machine                 30


  CHAPTER IV.

  Terrestrial phenomena--Footmarks on rocks--The Logan
    stone--Sounds in stones--The cave of St. Paul--Atmospherical
    phenomena--Intermitting springs--Waters of magical power          41


  CHAPTER V.

  Chemical wonders--Ice obtained in a red-hot vessel--The
    corpse candles of Wales--Luminous appearances after
    death--Sadoomeh the magician--The laughing gas--Sulphuric
    ether--Chloroform--Gunpowder compared with gun-cotton             62


  CHAPTER VI.

  Light and its phenomena--Magic pictures--The optical
    paradox--Chinese metallic mirrors--Effect of an
    optical instrument on a superstitious mind--Origin of
    photography--The Talbotype--The Daguerreotype--Sunlight
    pictures                                                          87


  CHAPTER VII.

  Heat, the cause of many wonders--Its universal diffusion
    and application--Story of a burning-glass--The Augustine
    friars and the Jesuits--Impostures as to the endurance
    of heat--Burning mirrors--The blow-pipe--The Giants’
    Causeway--Application of currents of heated air--Travelling
    by steam                                                         107


  CHAPTER VIII.

  The magic swan--Properties of the magnet--The mariners’
    compass--Process of magnetizing--The dip of the
    needle--Magnetic properties in various substances                124


  CHAPTER IX.

  The electrical kite--Candles magically lighted--St. Elmo’s
    fire--The chronoscope--The electric clock--The electric
    telegraph--Sub-marine telegraphs--The overruling providence
    of God                                                           133


  CHAPTER X.

  Claims of the church of Rome to miraculous power--The
    Franciscans and Dominicans--Tale of bishop Remi--The
    effect of relics--Friars’ pretended dispossession of evil
    spirits--Tragical event--Appearance of the virgin Mary to
    shepherds exposed--Pretended miracle of the Greek church         154


  CHAPTER XI.

  Real miracles--A miracle defined by archbishop Tillotson--The
    miracles of Moses--The miracles of our Lord Jesus Christ--The
    miracles of the apostles--Collision with those who pretended
    to supernatural power--The magicians of Egypt--Magical arts
    at Ephesus--The miraculous power of the Saviour inherent,
    that of the prophets and apostles derived--Cessation of
    miraculous gifts                                                 177




MAGIC, PRETENDED MIRACLES,

ETC




CHAPTER I.

  The magi of the east--Magical power attributed to numbers, plants,
    and minerals.


The magi formed one of the six tribes into which the nation of the
Medes was divided in ancient times. To them was entrusted the special
charge of religion; and, as priests, they were superior in education
and training to the people in general. Among the Persians, “the lovers
of wisdom and the servants of God” were, according to Suidas, called
magi. It seems also, that they extended themselves into other lands,
and that among the Chaldeans they were an organized body.

We read in the inspired book of Daniel, of “the magi,” or “wise men,”
among whom the prophet himself was classed; and others, we know,
directed by “the star in the east,” went to the infant Saviour, when
born, at Bethlehem, “as Christ the Lord,” and presented to him their
offerings, “gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.” Among the Greeks and
Romans, the same class of persons was styled Chaldeans and magi.

For a time, the magi surpassed the rest of the world in knowledge,
and were the friends, companions, and counsellors, of its mightiest
sovereigns. But their science, from having no solid basis, sank, after
a while, into insignificance. On the ruins of its reputation other
persons sought to build theirs. A man who knew, or could perform some
things, with which others had no acquaintance, or for which they
had no power, announced himself as a magician. Nor were the people
indisposed to concede to him the credit he desired, especially if he
claimed alliance with spiritual beings; and, in not a few instances,
they attributed his marvels to such agency. Thus, then, the magician
may be traced to the _magus_, or magian; and magic, to the so-called
philosophy of the east.

Magic squares are of great antiquity. A square of this kind is divided
into several other small equal squares, or cells, filled up with the
terms of any progression of numbers, but generally an arithmetical one;
so that those in each band, whether horizontal, vertical, or diagonal,
shall always make the same sum. The ancients ascribed to them great
virtues; and the disposition of numbers formed the basis and principle
of many of their talismans. Accordingly, a square of one cell, filled
up with unity, was the symbol of the Deity, on account of the unity
and immutability of God; for they remarked that this square was, by
its nature, unique and immutable; the product of unity by itself being
always unity. The square of the root two, was the symbol of imperfect
matter, both on account of the four elements, and of its being supposed
impossible to arrange this square magically. A square of nine cells was
assigned or consecrated to Saturn; that of sixteen to Jupiter; that of
twenty-five to Mars; that of thirty-six to the sun; that of forty-nine
to Venus; that of sixty-four to Mercury; and that of eighty-one, or
nine on each side, to the moon. Those who can find any relation between
two planets, and such an arrangement of numbers, must have minds
strongly tinctured with superstition; yet so it was in the mysterious
philosophy of Iamblichus, Porphyry, and their disciples.

Plants, as well as numbers, were long considered to be endowed with
magical properties. Pliny enumerates those which, according to
Pythagoras, were supposed to have the power of concealing waters. To
others were attributed extraordinary effects. The _asyrites_, as it was
denominated by the Egyptians, was used under the idea that it acted
as a defence against witchcraft; and the _nepenthes_, which Helen
presented, in a potion, to Menelaus, was believed, by the same people,
to be powerful in banishing sadness, and in restoring the mind to
its accustomed, or even to greater cheerfulness. Whatever may be the
virtues of such herbs, they were used rather from an idea of their
magical than of their medicinal qualities; every cure was cunningly
ascribed to some mysterious and occult power.

From the same superstition, metals and stones were supposed to be
endowed with singular virtues: the opal, to grow pale at the touch
of poison; the emerald, to remove intoxication; and the carbuncle,
“only to be found in the head of the dragon, the hideous inhabitant
of the island of Ceylon,” to shine in the darkness. As the metal
called gold always bore the highest value, it was concluded, from an
absurd analogy, that its power to preserve health and cure disease
must likewise surpass that of all other applications. Multitudes gave
themselves to busy idleness in attempting to render it potable, and
to prevent it from again being converted into metal. Not only did
they labour in obscure situations, but in the splendid laboratories
of nobles and sovereigns. Men of rank, impelled by one common frenzy,
formed secret alliances; and even proceeded to such extravagance as to
bring ruinous debts on themselves and their posterity. The object of
which they were in pursuit was “an elixir of life.”

In Italy, Germany, France, and other countries, the common people often
denied themselves the necessaries of life, to save as much as would
purchase a few drops of the tincture of gold, which was superstitiously
or fraudulently offered for sale. So fully did they confide in the
efficacy of this imaginary power, that on it generally depended their
only hope of recovery. Positively was the desired boon promised, but
only to mock expectation. Our times are in the hands of God; and at his
will the dust returns to the dust from whence it was taken, and the
spirit to him who gave it.

How fearful was the ignorance that prevailed in the bygone times to
which a reference has been made! What gratitude should we feel for the
advantages we enjoy! Let us, then, constantly remember that as to us
much has been given, so of us much will be required; and that one kind
of knowledge surpasses all others: “This,” said the adorable Redeemer,
“is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and
Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent,” John xvii. 3.




CHAPTER II.

  Feats of modern magicians--Their wonders explained--The
    snake-charmers of India--A Chinese delusion--The magician of
    Cairo.


Wonder-workers have often appeared. Some of them have lately repeated
their most remarkable feats in London and various places in England,
varied by others of inferior interest. Large and astonished assemblies
have witnessed their performance, and public journals have described
them as absolutely “inexplicable.” And yet, though the writer has no
personal acquaintance with any modern “magician,” he has no doubt
that all their feats may be accounted for, from sleight-of-hand,
confederacy, ingenious contrivance, or the application of some natural
law. A few illustrations shall now be given.

Many delusions are entirely dependent on _sleight-of-hand_; a rapidity
of manipulation being attained by long practice, as in the marvellous
movements of the fingers of a highly accomplished instrumental
performer; while the power may become so great as to defy the
observation of the acutest vision. The late Mr. Walker, minister at
Demattar, in the Mears, told sir Walter Scott of a young country girl,
who threw turf, stones, and other missiles, with such dexterity, that
it was, for a time, impossible to ascertain the agency employed in the
disturbances of which she was the sole cause.

A friend of the writer has a remarkable nicety of touch, and, at
pleasure, a rapid movement of the hands, by which he can rival many
magical feats. Thus he conveys balls under cups, and appears to change
them into fruit, to the astonishment of lookers-on. He also takes two
horn cups of exactly the same size, and produces the impression that
he causes one to fall through the other, when this is impossible, and
all that is done is effected by dexterous and rapid manipulation,
illustrating the proverb, “The hand is quicker than the eye.”

Many astounding feats, which form a part of all popular magical
exhibitions, are performed by this leger-de-main. Apparently, the
performer receives a lady’s wedding-ring and breaks it in pieces; burns
a five-pound note handed to him by a spectator; reduces a hat to a
hideous shape; or crushes a bonnet into fragments, and then restores
them uninjured to the respective parties, amidst the acclamations of
the multitude. But all that is done is with indescribable rapidity to
substitute articles of his own to undergo the process of destruction,
and, at the right moment, to exhibit those which have been presented
by the spectators, and are preserved in safety.

Another cause of wonderment is _confederacy_. A modern performer has
been accustomed to hand a box to one of his audience, requesting that
in it might be placed any article that he had, and that it might be
passed on from one to another for the same purpose. While this has been
done, he has proceeded to his table, and apparently waited the filling
of the box. At length, while the box has been held up at a distance,
he has placed his rod to his eye and described the collection that has
been made. He has said, perhaps, “I can see in that box a piece of
ribbon, a lozenge, a few grains, part, I dare say, of a pinch of snuff,
and a lady’s card; I will try and read it--Miss--Clara--Henderson;”
and so he passes through the chief part of the series. And yet, as
his patrons look on with astonishment, they do not think of what is
most likely to be the fact, that a confederate, sitting as one of the
audience, made a list of the articles as they were deposited in the
box, and despatched it in portions or altogether, so that their names
might reach the eye of the performer from some part of his table.

A third means of wonder-working is that of _ingenious contrivance_. We
will illustrate this by two popular feats. A number of handkerchiefs
taken from the audience by more than one popular performer, were placed
in a small washing-tub, into which water was poured, and they were
washed for a few minutes. They were then placed in a vessel like the
figure, below, and immediately afterwards the performer said to the
persons in front: “I will give you these;” and taking off the top, when
he was expected to throw out the wet handkerchiefs, all that fell was
a number of flowers. He now brought out a box, which he opened, and
showed it to be empty; then shutting it, and uttering a few cabalistic
words, he opened it again, and there were the handkerchiefs, all dry,
folded, and scented, which he distributed to their respective claimants.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: A]

[Illustration: B]

Another experiment of a popular performer was called “coffee for the
million.” Producing a vessel like the diagram A; the performer filled
it with unground coffee, and placing it under a cover B, he said,
“There, when you have done that, let it simmer for three-quarters-of-an
hour; but, perhaps, you will not like to wait so long; here then it
is;” and on removing the cover, the vessel appeared full of hot liquid
coffee. In another vessel of the same kind he obtained lump-sugar from
rape-seed; and in a third, warm milk from horse-beans; and pouring out
the coffee into cups, sent them round to regale his auditory, amidst
their loud and approving shouts at so great a transformation.

[Illustration]

As these feats are the result of considerable ingenuity, it is probable
that the devices employed would not readily occur to spectators in
general, while they would utterly escape those whose object is merely
amusement, and who, if they thought at all, would be likely to describe
the result as supernatural. We proceed, then, to the unravelling of
the mystery. Let it be observed, in reference to the first experiment,
that a number of handkerchiefs are collected in the early part of
the evening for various illusions, and that many of them appear for
a time on the performer’s table. Provided with a collection of these
articles, from the handsome silk handkerchief to one trimmed with
lace, used by a fashionable lady, he could easily substitute his own
of the same kind for those of his auditory, as the curtain falls,
according to the arrangements of the evening, between the collection of
the handkerchiefs and the subsequent process. His own handkerchiefs,
therefore, are washed and placed in the vase already described; and
the so-called change into flowers is nothing more than the retention of
the handkerchiefs in the lower part of the apparatus, which the figure
illustrates, while the upper part holds the flowers till they are
scattered among the spectators. Meanwhile, all that is required is done
to their handkerchiefs. It is not absolutely necessary that they should
be washed; for folding, pressing, and a little eau-de-Cologne, would
complete the preparation; but granting that they are washed, there is
still no difficulty, though this mystifies the spectators, who have the
idea that drying is a long affair; for it may be effected in a minute
or two by a machine that is readily obtained. The box brought out has
them deposited in it, but as it is double, one interior is first shown,
which, of course, contains nothing, for the inner drawer holding the
handkerchiefs remains in the case; but when a few sounds are uttered
and the professor touches a secret spring behind, which disengages
the inner box, he draws it out with the outer one; and presents the
handkerchiefs to the audience. In the diagram A, the box is shown
as empty. At B, we have a representation of the box containing the
handkerchiefs. It is only necessary to add that the box is very nicely
made; the part within the other drawn out to the end, defies detection.

[Illustration]

The preparation of coffee, milk, and sugar, may be easily explained;
for if the vessels containing respectively the unground coffee, the
rape-seed, and the horse-beans, always placed under a cover, be put on
a part of the table having a circular trap-door--and for this there is
full provision in the cover of the table extending to the floor--a
confederate may readily substitute one for the other.

[Illustration]

The Rev. W. Arthur, in his work on the Mysore, directs us to results
of a different kind:--“Whilst walking in the verandah,” he says, “some
snake-charmers approached, and forthwith began to show us their skill.
They produced several bags and baskets, containing serpents of the most
poisonous kind--the cobra di capello; then blew upon an instrument
shaped like a cocoa-nut, with a short tube inserted, and producing
music closely allied to that of the bag-pipe. The animals were brought
forth, raised themselves to the music, spread out their head, showing
the spectacle mask fully distended, and waved about with considerable
grace, and little appearance of venom. The men coquetted with them, and
coiled them about their persons, without any sign of either dislike
or fear. This power of dealing with creatures so deadly is ascribed
by the natives to magic. Europeans generally account for it by saying
that the fangs are extracted. But the most reasonable explanation seems
to be, that when the snake is first caught, by a dexterous movement
of the charmer, the hand is slipped along the body, until it reaches
the neck, which he presses so firmly, as to compel an ejection of
the virus; thus destroying, for a time, all power to harm; and that
this operation is repeated as often as is necessary, to prevent the
dangerous accumulation. If this be true--and I believe it is--nothing
is necessary to the safe handling of these reptiles, but a knowledge
of the laws which regulate the venomous secretion. The wonder seems to
lie in the power they possess of attracting the snakes by their rude
music, and seizing them in the first instance. But enough is known to
make it evident that, in what all natives and many Europeans regard
as mysterious and magical, there is nothing but experience, tact, and
courage.”

A strange and repulsive feat is thus described by the Rev. G. Smith,
in his recent work on “China.” “Aquei conducted us into a room, where
he was sitting with his two wives, handsomely attired, looking from a
window on the crowd assembled in the street to witness the performances
of a native juggler. The latter, after haranguing the crowd with much
animation in the Nanking dialect, (as is usual with actors,) proceeded
to one part of the crowd, and took thence a child, apparently five or
six years old, who, with struggling resistance, was led into the centre
of the circle. The man then, with impassioned gesture, violently threw
the child on a wooden stool, and, placing him on his back, flourished
over him a large knife; the child all the time sobbing and crying as
if from fright. Two or three older men from the crowd approached,
with earnest remonstrances against the threatened deed of violence.
For a time, he desisted, but, soon after, returning to the child, who
was still uttering most pitiable cries, he placed him with his back
upwards, and, notwithstanding the violent protests of the seniors,
he suddenly dashed the knife into the back of the child’s neck, which
it appeared to enter till it had almost divided it from the head;
the blood meanwhile flowing copiously from the wound, and streaming
to the ground, and over the hands of the man. The struggle of the
child grew more and more feeble, and at last altogether ceased. The
man then arose, leaving the knife firmly fixed in the child’s neck.
Copper cash was then thrown liberally into the ring, for the benefit
of the principal actors. These were collected by assistants, all of
them viewing the influx of the coins with great delight, and bowing
continually to the spectators, and reiterating the words, ‘To seoz,’
‘Many thanks.’ After a time, the man proceeded towards the corpse,
pronounced a few words, took away the knife, and called aloud to the
child. Soon there appeared the signs of returning animation. The
stiffness of death gradually relaxed, and at last he stood up among the
eager crowd, who closed around him, and bountifully rewarded him with
cash. The performance was evidently one which excited delight in the
bystanders, who, by their continued shouts, showed their approbation of
the acting.”

It is almost superfluous to add, that the deception consisted in the
construction of the blade and the handle of the knife, so that, by
making a sawing motion on the throat of the child, a stream of coloured
liquid, resembling blood, is pumped out; a little acting on the part
of the performer and the child is amply sufficient for all the rest.

[Illustration]

Within the last few years, we have had accounts of a magician in Egypt,
first described in a valuable work on that country by Mr. Lane, which
produced an extraordinary impression. The magician, it was said, caused
a boy to see certain persons called for, in a little ink, placed in
his hand, in the centre of a double magic square, somewhat like the
figure. One of the most profound writers of the age even wrote: “There
will be no lack of confidence to pronounce; and the authority so
pronouncing will assume the name and tone of philosophy, that there
was nothing more in the whole matter than artful contrivance; that
there was no intervention of an intelligent agency extraneous to that
of the immediate ostensible agent. But can this assumption be made
on any other ground than a prior general assumption that there is no
such preternatural intervention in the system of the world? But how to
_know_ that there is not? The negative decision pronounced in confident
ignorance, is a conceited impertinence, which ought to be rebuked by
that philosophy whose oracles it is affecting to utter. For what any
man knows, or can know, there may be such intervention. That it is not
incompatible with the constitution of the world, is an unquestionable
fact with the unsophisticated believers in the sacred records. And not
a few occurrences in later history have totally defied every attempt at
explanation in any other way.”[A]

And yet sir Gardiner Wilkinson, who subsequently travelled in Egypt,
and visited the magician, says:--

“On going to see him, I was determined to examine the matter with
minute attention, at the same time that I divested myself of every
previous bias, either for or against his pretended powers. A party
having been made up to witness the exhibition, we met, according to
previous agreement, at Mr. Lewis’s house on Wednesday evening, the
8th of December. The magician was ushered in, and having taken his
place, we all sat down, some before him, others by his side. The party
consisted of colonel Barnet, our consul-general, Mr. Lewis, Dr. Abbott,
Mr. Samuel, Mr. Christian, M. Prisse, with another French gentleman,
and myself, four of whom understood Arabic very well; so that we had no
need of any interpreter. The magician, after entering into conversation
with many of us on different subjects, and discussing two or three
pipes, prepared for the performance. He first of all requested that a
brazier of live charcoal should be brought him, and, in the mean while,
occupied himself in writing upon a long slip of paper five sentences of
two lines each, then two others, one of a single line, and the other
of two, as an invocation to the spirits. Every sentence began with
‘Tuyurshoon.’ Each was separated from the one above and below it by
a line, to direct him in tearing them apart. A boy was then called,
who was ordered to sit down before the magician. He did so, and the
magician having asked for some ink from Mr. Lewis, traced with a pen on
the palm of his right hand a double square, containing the nine numbers
in this order, or in English--making fifteen each way; the centre one
being five--the evil number. This I remarked to the magician, but he
made no reply. A brazier was brought and placed between the magician
and the boy, who was ordered to look stedfastly into the ink, and
report what he should see. I begged the magician to speak slowly enough
to give me time to write down every word, which he promised to do,
without being displeased at the request; nor had he objected, during
the preliminary part of the performance, to my attempt to sketch him
as he sat. He now began an incantation, calling on the spirits by
the power of ‘our lord Soolayman,’ with the words ‘tuyurshoon’ and
‘haderoo’ (be present) frequently repeated.

“He then muttered words to himself, and tearing apart the different
sentences he had written, he put them, one after another, into the
fire, together with some frankincense. This done, he asked the boy
if any one had come. _Boy._ ‘Yes, many.’--_Magician._ ‘Tell them to
sweep.’--_B._ ‘Sweep.’--_M._ ‘Tell them to bring the flags.’--_B._
‘Bring the flags.’--_M._ ‘Have they brought any?’--_B._ ‘Yes.’--_M._
‘O, what colour?’--_B._ ‘Green.’--_M._ ‘Say, Bring another.’--_B._
‘Bring another.’--_M._ ‘Has it come?’--_B._ ‘Yes, a green one.’--_M._
‘Another.’--_B._ ‘Another.’--_M._ ‘Is it brought?’--_B._ ‘Yes, another
green one--they are all green.’ This boy was then sent away, and
another was brought, who had never before seen the magician, having
been chosen with another, by Mr. Lewis, on purpose; but after many
incantations, incense, and long delay, he could see nothing, and fell
asleep over the ink. The other boy was then called in, but he, like
the other, could not be made to see anything; and a fourth was brought
in, who had evidently acted his part before. He first saw a shadow,
and was ordered to ‘tell him to sleep;’ and, after the flags and the
sultan as usual, some one suggested that lord Fitzroy Somerset should
be called for. He was described in a white Frank dress, a long, high,
white hat, _black stockings_, and white gloves, tall, and standing
before him _with black boots_. I asked how he could see his stockings
with boots? The boy answered, ‘Under his trowsers.’ He continued, ‘His
eyes are white, moustaches, no beard, but little whiskers, and yellow
or light hair; he is thin, thin legs, thin arms; in his left hand he
holds a stick, and in the other a pipe; he has a black handkerchief
round his neck, his throat buttoned up, his trowsers are long, he wears
green spectacles.’ The magician, seeing some of the party smiling at
the description and its inaccuracies, said to the boy, ‘Don’t tell
lies, boy.’ To which he answered, ‘I do not; why should I?’--_M._
‘Tell him to go.’--_B._ ‘Go.’ Queen Victoria was next called for, who
was described as short, dressed in black trowsers, a white hat, black
shoes, white gloves, red coat, with lining, and black waistcoat, with
whiskers, but no beard nor moustaches, and holding in his hand a glass
tumbler. He was asked if the person were a man or a woman? He answered,
‘A man.’ We told the magician that it was our queen! He said, ‘I do not
know why they should say what is false; I knew she was a woman, but the
boys describe as they see.’

“From the manner in which the questions were put, it is very evident
that, when a boy is persuaded to see anything, the appearances of
the sweeper, the flags, and the sultan, are the result of leading
questions. The boy pretends or imagines he sees a man or a shadow, and
he is told to order some one to sweep: he is therefore prepared with
his answer; and the same continues to the end, the magician always
telling him what he is to call for, and consequently what he is to see.
The descriptions of persons asked for are almost universally complete
failures.”

After these and other details, sir Gardiner says, “I am decidedly of
opinion that the whole of the first part is done solely by leading
questions, and that whenever the descriptions succeed in any point, the
success is owing to accident, or to unintentional prompting in the mode
of questioning the boys.”[B]

A subsequent traveller, lord Nugent, places the state of the case in a
new light:--

“It is enough to say, that not one person whom Abd-el-Kader described
bore the smallest resemblance to the one named by us; and all those
called for were of remarkable appearance. All the preparations, all
the ceremony, and all the attempts at description, bore evidences of
such a coarse and stupid fraud, as would render any detail of the
proceeding, or any argument tending to connect it with any marvellous
power, ingenious art, or interesting inquiry, a mere childish waste of
time. How, then, does it happen, that respectable and sensitive minds
have been staggered by the exhibitions of this impostor? I think that
the solution which Mr. Lane himself suggested as probable is quite
complete. When the exhibition was over, Mr. Lane had some conversation
with the magician, which he afterwards repeated to us. In reply to
an observation of Mr. Lane’s to him upon his entire failure, the
magician admitted that ‘he had often failed since the death of Osman
Effendi;’--the same Osman Effendi that Mr. Lane mentions in his book as
having been of the party on every occasion on which he had been witness
of the magician’s art, and whose testimony the _Quarterly Review_ cites
in support of the marvel, which (searching much too deep for what
lies very near, indeed, to the surface,) it endeavours to solve by
suggesting the probability of diverse complicated optical combinations.

“And, be it again observed, optical combinations cannot throw one
ray of light upon the main difficulty, the means of procuring the
resemblance required of the absent person. I now give Mr. Lane’s
solution of the whole mystery, in his own words, my note of which I
submitted to him, and obtained his ready permission to make public in
any way I might see fit. This Osman Effendi, Mr. Lane told me, was
a Scotchman, formerly serving in a British regiment, who was taken
prisoner by the Egyptian army during our unfortunate expedition to
Alexandria, in 1807; that he was sold as a slave, and persuaded to
abjure Christianity, and profess the Mussulman faith; that, applying
his talents to his necessities, he made himself useful by dint
of some little medical knowledge he had picked up on duty in the
regimental hospital; that he obtained his liberty at the instance of
the Sheik Ibraim, (M. Burckhardt,) through the means of Mr. Salt;
that, in process of time, he became second interpreter of the British
consulate; that Osman was, very probably, acquainted, by portraits
or otherwise, with the general appearance of most Englishmen of
celebrity, and certainly could describe the peculiar dresses of
English professions, such as army, navy, church, and the ordinary
habits of persons of different professions in England; that, on all
occasions when Mr. Lane was witness of the magician’s success, Osman
had been present at the previous occasions, had heard who should be
called to appear, and so had, probably, obtained a description of the
figure, when it was to be the apparition of some private friend of
persons present; that, on these occasions, he very probably had some
pre-arranged code of words, by which he could communicate secretly
with the magician. To this it must be added, that his avowed theory of
morals was, on all occasions, that ‘we did our whole duty if we did
what we thought best for our fellow-creatures and most agreeable to
them.’ Osman was present when Mr. Lane was so astonished at hearing
the boy describe very accurately, the person of M. Burckhardt, with
whom the magician was unacquainted, but who had been Osman’s patron,
and who, also, knew well the other gentleman whom Mr. Lane states in
his book that the boy described as appearing ill and lying on a sofa,
and Mr. Lane added that he had, _probably_, been asked by Osman about
that gentleman’s health, whom Mr. Lane then knew to be suffering under
an attack of rheumatism. He concluded, therefore, by avowing that
there was no doubt in his mind, connecting all these circumstances
with the declaration the magician had just made, that Osman had been
the confederate. Thus I have given in Mr. Lane’s words, not only with
his consent, but at his ready offer, what he has no doubt is the
explanation of the whole of the subject which he now feels to require
no deeper inquiry; and which has been adopted by many as a marvel
upon an exaggerated view of the testimony that he offered in his book
before he had been convinced, as he now is, of the imposture. I gladly
state this, on the authority of an enlightened and honourable man, to
disabuse minds that have wandered into serious speculation on a matter
which I cannot but feel to be quite undeserving of it.”[C]--So true is
it, that, while many effects, which appear mysterious to the multitude,
may be explained by those of greater knowledge, others, which, for a
time, defy penetration, are, at length, clearly exhibited in their true
light. It becomes us, therefore, carefully to examine testimony, to
receive that only which will bear scrutiny, and to suspend our judgment
whenever we are unacquainted with the _whole_ case. The best of men are
prone to err; and well is it, if, ceasing from them, we have been led
by Divine grace to trust implicitly in the God of truth.




CHAPTER III.

  Machines considered magical in ancient times--Remarkable modern
    automata--Minute engines--The calculating machine.


The light of modern science has revealed to us many important secrets.
In the dark ages there were but few books; it was then the fashion to
write them in Latin; and as, from their costliness, they could only
be obtained by men of wealth, so they could be understood alone by
such as had enjoyed the advantages of education. Science is now easily
accessible, but, though it is not necessary for us all to become
philosophers, there is no good reason why people generally should
not be acquainted with some of the most remarkable phenomena of the
natural world. The inspired psalmist has said, “The works of the Lord
are great, sought out of all them that have pleasure therein;” and it
becomes all, according to their means and opportunities, to lay this
truth to heart. We proceed now to consider some effects regarded as
magical, which are satisfactorily explained on natural principles,
beginning with mechanics.

An ability to construct wonderful or magical machines was manifest
among the ancients. Archytas, a native of Tarentum, in Italy, who
lived four hundred years before the birth of our Lord and Saviour, is
said to have made a wooden dove, which flew and sustained itself for
some time in the air. Other clever contrivances are also mentioned. “A
magician,” says D’Israeli, “was annoyed, as philosophers still are, by
passengers in the street; and he, particularly so, by having horses led
to drink under his window. He made a magical horse of wood, according
to one of the books of Hermes, which perfectly answered his purpose, by
frightening away the horses, or, rather, the grooms! The wooden horse,
no doubt, gave some palpable kick.”

It is worthy of remark, that tales of ancient times must be received
with caution. We find it necessary, even at a much later period. The
tricks which now amuse or astonish the populace at a country fair,
would be greatly exaggerated in a credulous age, and often assume
even the most portentous colouring. Nor is it difficult to guess, and
sometimes to discover, the stages of similar and great mystifications.
The following instance is rather remarkable. On Charles V. entering
Nuremberg, a celebrated German astronomer, whose real name was Johann
Müller, but who styled himself Regiomontanus, exhibited some automata
which he had constructed. These were an eagle of wood, which, placed
on the gate of the city, rose up and flapped its wings, while the
emperor was passing below; and a fly, made of steel, which walked round
a table. Now all this is sufficiently credible. But what is the record
of the chroniclers only a few years after? That the wooden eagle sprang
from the tower and soared in the air; and that the steel fly flew three
times round the emperor, and then alighted buzzing on his hand!

In many instances, the mechanism of modern times is surprisingly
minute. A watchmaker in London presented his majesty George III.
with a repeating watch he had constructed, set in a ring. Its
size was something less than a silver two-pence; it contained one
hundred-and-twenty-five different parts, and weighed, altogether, no
more than five pennyweights and seven grains!

In an exhibition of Maillardet, which the writer has seen, the lid of a
box suddenly flew open, and a small bird of beautiful plumage started
forth from its nest. The wings fluttered, and the bill opening with
the tremulous motion peculiar to singing birds, it began to warble.
After a succession of notes, whose sound well filled a large apartment,
it retired to its nest, and the lid closed. Its performances occupied
about four minutes. In the same exhibition were an automatic spider,
a caterpillar, a mouse, and a serpent; all of which exhibited the
peculiar movements of the living creatures. The spider was made of
steel: it ran on the surface of a table for three minutes, and its
course tended towards the middle of the table. The serpent crawled
about in every direction, opened its mouth, hissed, and darted forth
its tongue.

Several years ago, a watchmaker, residing in a town in which the
writer lived, made a working model of a steam-engine, the packing-case
of which was a walnut-shell. On showing it one day to a gentleman,
the machine was suddenly stopped, the mechanic remarking, “There is
something wrong in one of the safety-valves.” “Safety-valve!” exclaimed
the observer; “I have not yet been able to detect the fly-wheel!”

The most curious specimen of minute workmanship, however, with which
we are acquainted, is a high-pressure engine, the work of a watchmaker
having a stand at the Polytechnic Institution, and first exhibited in
1845. Each part was made according to scale, it worked by atmospheric
pressure, in lieu of steam, with the greatest activity, yet it was so
small, that it stood on a fourpenny-piece, with ground to spare, and,
with the exception of the fly-wheel, it might be covered with a thimble.

D’Alembert describes a flute-player, constructed by Vaucanson, which
he saw exhibited at Paris in 1738. The writer has also seen one, in
which a figure appeared seated, and then rose and played a tune, the
motions of the fingers seeming to accord with the notes. He cannot
answer for the music having been produced by the movements of the hands
of the automaton. D’Alembert affirms, however, that the automaton of
Vaucanson really projected the air with its lips against the embouchure
of the instrument, producing the different octaves by expanding and
contracting their openings, giving more or less air, and regulating the
tones by its fingers, in the manner of living performers. The height
of the figure, with the pedestal, containing some of the machinery,
was nearly six feet; it commanded three octaves, several notes of
which musicians find it difficult to produce. Some years ago, two
automaton flute-players were exhibited in this country, of the size of
life, which performed ten or twelve duets. That they actually played
the flute might be proved, by placing the finger on any hole that was
unstopped for a moment by the automata.

M. Vaucanson produced a flageolet-player, who beat a tambourine with
one hand. The flageolet had only three holes, and some notes were made
by half-stopping these. The lowest note was produced by a force of
wind equal to an ounce, the highest by one of fifty-six French pounds.
A duck was, however, considered to be his chef-d’œuvre; it dabbled in
the mire, swam, drank, quacked, raised and moved its wings, and dressed
its feathers with its bill; it even extended its neck, took barley
from the hand and swallowed it, during which process the muscles of
the neck were seen in motion, and it also digested the food by means
of materials provided for its solution in the stomach. The inventor
made no secret of the machinery, which excited, at the time, great
admiration.

Maelzel, the inventor of the metronome, or time-measurer, frequently
used to aid pupils in music, exhibited in Vienna in 1809, another
automaton of singular power; which appeared in the uniform of a
trumpeter in the Austrian dragoon regiment Albert, with his instrument
placed to his mouth. When the figure was pressed on the left shoulder,
it played not only the Austrian cavalry march, and all the signals of
that army, but also a march and allegro by Weigl, which was accompanied
by the whole orchestra. The dress of the figure was then changed into
that of a French trumpeter of the guards, when it began to play a
French cavalry march, all the signals, the march of Dussek, and an
allegro of Pleyel, accompanied again by the full orchestra. Maelzel
publicly wound up his instrument only twice on the left hip. The sound
of the trumpet was pure and peculiarly agreeable.

About thirty years ago, Maillardet exhibited, in Spring Gardens, a
variety of automata, which the writer had an opportunity of seeing
at a later period. One was the figure of a boy, who wrote sentences,
and drew certain objects with remarkable promptitude and correctness.
Another was a pianiste, seated at a piano-forte, on which she played
eighteen tunes. All her movements were graceful. Before beginning a
tune, she made a gentle inclination of the head to her auditors; her
bosom heaved, and her eyes followed the motion of her fingers over the
finger-board. When the automaton was once wound up, it would continue
playing for an hour; and the principal part of the machinery employed
was freely exposed to public view. It has been doubted whether the
music was actually produced by the automaton: since the time now
referred to, the writer has examined another, in which the keys of the
instrument were certainly acted upon by the touch.

He has also seen, at various times, several very curiously constructed
automata: the figure of a lady, who could walk along a level surface,
throwing out the limbs, and moving the head from side to side; a
tippler, who could pour out wine from a decanter into a glass, open
his mouth, and swallow the fluid, and thus proceed till the bottle was
drained; and a performer on the slack rope, whose exceedingly rapid
movements of the body, the arms, and the head, all consistent and
graceful, were truly amazing.

A very beautiful automaton was exhibited, a few years ago, in Paris,
and subsequently in London. It appeared in a court suit, sitting at
a table, in the attitude of writing. Several questions, inscribed on
tablets, were placed on the table on which the whole apparatus stood,
and visitors might select any one or more at pleasure. The tablet,
containing a question, on being handed to the attendant, was placed
in a drawer, and, as soon as it was closed, the figure traced on
paper an appropriate reply. On the question being given, “Who may be
volatile without a crime?” the answer was, “A butterfly.” And as the
figure could draw a response as well as write it, when the question was
put, “What is the symbol of fidelity?” it drew, in outline, the form
of a greyhound. In the same way it proceeded throughout the series of
questions.

In some instances, the effect of automata is increased by the
exhibiter proposing certain questions, and receiving responses from
the figure--as shaking the head, to denote a negative; or nodding, to
indicate assent. It is evident that here the inquiries or remarks are
thrown in to accord with the motions that the figure is contrived to
make. When, however, a performer, as one has recently done, puts a
whistle in the mouth of an automaton, and then, sitting down by its
side, plays a tune on a guitar, desiring the figure to accompany him;
the hasty sounds with which the figure seems inclined to begin, the
irregularity with which it proceeds, and the long and loud closing
note, may all be easily supplied by some confederate. Surprising
as are the effects produced by many automata, it would be wrong to
infer that their only results are the wonder of the multitude, or
gain or applause to their inventors. “They gave rise,” as sir David
Brewster has remarked, “to the most ingenious mechanical devices, and
introduced, among the higher order of artists, habits of nice and
accurate execution in the formation of the most delicate pieces of
machinery.” Those combinations of wheels and pinions, which almost
eluded observation, “reappeared in the stupendous mechanism of our
spinning-machines and our steam-engines. The elements of the tumbling
puppet were revived in the chronometer, which now conducts our navy
through the ocean; and the shapeless wheel which directed the hand
of the drawing automaton (of Maillardet,) has served, in the present
age, to guide the movements of the tambouring-engine. Those mechanical
wonders, which in one century enriched only the conjurer who used
them, contributed in another to augment the wealth of the nation; and
those automatic toys which once amused the vulgar, are now employed in
extending the power, and promoting the civilisation of our species. In
whatever way, indeed, the power of genius may invent or combine, and to
whatever bad or even ludicrous purposes that invention or combination
may be originally applied, society receives a gift which it can never
lose; and though the value of the seed may not at once be recognised,
though it may lie long unproductive in the ungenial soil of human
knowledge, it will; some time or other, evolve its germ, and yield to
mankind its natural and abundant harvest.”[D]

A singular fact is connected with the early history of the Astronomical
Society of London. A valuable set of tables, for reducing the observed
to the true places of stars, was in course of preparation, at the
expense of the society, including above three thousand stars, and
comprehending all known to those of the fifth magnitude, inclusive,
and all the most useful of the sixth and seventh. An incident which
now occurred, gave rise to one of the most extraordinary of modern
inventions. To insure accuracy in the calculation of certain tables,
separate computers had been employed; and two members of the society
having been chosen to compare the results, detected so many errors, as
to induce one of them to express his regret that the work could not be
executed by a machine. For this, the other member, Mr. Babbage, at once
replied, that “this was possible;” and, persevering in the inquiry
which had thus suggested itself, he produced a machine for calculating
tables with surprising accuracy.

The calculating part of the machinery occupies a space of about ten
feet broad, ten feet high, and five feet deep. It consists of seven
steel axes, erected over one another, each of them carrying eighteen
wheels, five inches in diameter, having on them small barrels, and
inscribed with the symbols 0, 1, to 9. The machine calculates to
eighteen decimal places, true to the last figure; but, by subsidiary
contrivances, it is possible to calculate to thirty decimal places.
Mr. Babbage has since contrived a machine, much more simple in its
construction, and far more extensive in its application.

In thus enumerating various displays of mechanical genius, we are
reminded that the prophet Isaiah, after describing the diverse labours
of the husbandman, adds, “This also cometh forth from the Lord of
hosts, which is wonderful in counsel, and excellent in working.” In all
the evidence we have of human talent, then, let us acknowledge that
“every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down
from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow
of turning,” Jas. i. 17. Would that the gifts of God were always used
for the Divine glory!




CHAPTER IV.

  Terrestrial phenomena--Footmarks on rocks--The Logan
    stone--Sounds in stones--The cave of St. Paul--Atmospherical
    phenomena--Intermitting springs--Waters of magical power.


In proceeding to illustrate the operation of natural laws, we may look
now at some of the phenomena connected with the globe we inhabit, of
which, where little knowledge is possessed, erroneous and frequently
superstitious opinions are still entertained.

Marvellous tales are often told of rocks. There is, for example, a
tradition of a nobleman being engaged in the chase, or pursued by his
enemies, without being hurt; whose horse left the prints of his feet
on a mass of stone, over which he passed. But, unhappily for the tale,
other impressions have been observed besides those of the horse’s feet;
and it is affirmed by various naturalists, deserving of credit, that
they must have been made by very different animals, at a remote period,
before the stone had completely hardened. Other instances of the same
kind might easily be given. In the British Museum, there is a slab
having similar impressions, obviously produced by the same means. It
was dug from a great depth; a mass of stone, many feet in thickness,
having been formed above the layer which received, in a soft state, the
impression from the feet of several animals.

Other impressions, of which we read or hear, are nothing more than
tricks of art. Such, most probably, is the impression of the foot
of Budda upon the Peak of Adam, at Ceylon; the print of the foot of
the idol Gaudama, in the Burmese empire, which has been three times
reproduced; and most certainly this is the case with the so-called
impressions of the feet of our blessed Lord and Saviour, shown to the
present day, on Mount Olivet.

The cave of St. Paul, at Civita Vecchia, the former capital of the
island of Malta, is an excavation, about nineteen feet in height, and
fifty in circumference; in a soft, white, limestone rock, more friable
than chalk. A belief that the stone was endowed with miraculous medical
virtues, led people to carry away large quantities of it during the
sway of the knights. In 1770, when visited by Brydone, the cave was
in the highest celebrity; not only every house in the island had a
medical chest of it, but large quantities were sent to different
countries in Europe, and even to the East Indies. It was supposed to
have a miraculous power which preserved it from diminution; which may
be accounted for by a natural law--the calcareous process of formation
still going on--while its healing power is to be attributed to its
having some of the properties of magnesia; which leads, according
to Dr. Walsh, to its still being given as a purgative-sudorific in
eruptive or fever complaints.

One instance of gross superstition, as connected with rocks, is too
important to be omitted. The trial by ordeal appears to have been very
early practised among the Celtic tribes of Europe, who were always
under the influence of an artful and domineering priesthood. Thus, it
is said that in cases of doubtful accusation the Druids made use of the
rocking-stones which were common in Britain, and that the culprit was
acquitted or condemned according as he succeeded or failed in shaking
them. Mason alludes to this trial in the following lines:--

                    “Behold yon huge
    And unknown sphere of living adamant,
    Which, poised by magic, rests its central weight
    On yonder pointed rock; firm as it seems,
    Such is its strange and virtuous property,
    It moves obsequious to the gentlest touch
    Of him whose heart is pure; but to a traitor,
    Though e’en a giant’s prowess nerved his arm,
    It stands as fixed as Snowdon.”

A little knowledge would have disabused the mind of this delusion. The
celebrated Logan or Logging-stone, near the Land’s End in Cornwall, is
an immense block, weighing about sixty tons. The surface in contact
with the under rock is, however, of very small extent; and the whole
mass is so nicely balanced, that, notwithstanding its magnitude, the
strength of a single man is sufficient to make it oscillate, when
applied to the under edge. It is the nature of granite to disintegrate
or decompose by the action of the air and moisture; a huge mass is thus
split into several blocks, and at length, by the continued operation of
the elements, one is suspended on the rest.

[Illustration]

Sounds emitted from rocks have often been regarded as portentous. Mr.
G. Bennett, when at Macao, had his attention directed to a mass of
granite rocks, appearing as if separated by some convulsion of nature,
many of which were found, when trodden on, to be movable. The first,
and by far the most sonorous, was partially excavated underneath;
and, by striking it upon the upper part, a deep sound, “like that of
a church bell,” was produced. “The battered appearance of the stone
above,” it is said, “bore several proofs of how many visitors had made
this lion roar.” Many of the other rocks were also sonorous, but not so
loud as the first, and, from their situations, “they were movable when
trodden on; but it could not be seen, whether, like the preceding, they
were excavated, and, in consequence of being so, sonorous.”

In the chain of El-Heman, and not far from the Red Sea, is the Jebal
Narkous, or “Mountain of the Bell.” It forms one of a ridge of low
calcareous hills, which are connected by a sandy plain, extending,
with a gentle rise, to their base. It is composed of a light-coloured
friable sandstone, about the same as the rest of the chain; but an
inclined plane of almost impalpable sand rises at an angle of about
forty degrees with the horizon, and is bounded by a semi-circle of
rocks, presenting broken, abrupt, and pinnacled forms, and extending to
the base of this remarkable hill. Its height is about four hundred feet.

Lieutenant Wellsted observed, that the shape and arrangement of the
rocks resembled, in some respects, a whispering-gallery; but he
ascertained, by experiment, that their irregular surface rendered
them but ill-adapted for the production of an echo. Seated on a rock
at the base of the sloping eminence, he directed a Bedouin to ascend;
and it was not till he had reached some distance that the lieutenant
perceived the sand in motion, rolling down the hill to the depth of a
foot. It did not, however, descend in one continued stream, but, as
the Arab scrambled upwards, it spread out laterally and above, until a
considerable portion of the surface was in motion. As the sand began
to fall, the sounds produced might be compared to the faint strains
of an Eolian harp when its strings first catch the breeze. When the
sounds became more violently agitated by the increased velocity
of the descent, the noise more nearly resembled that produced by
drawing the moistened fingers over glass. As it reached the base,
the reverberations attained the loudness of distant thunder, causing
the rock on which lieutenant Wellsted was seated to vibrate; and the
camels, animals not easily frightened, became so alarmed, that their
drivers could only retain them with difficulty. The noise, it was
remarked, did not issue from every part of the hill alike, the loudest
being produced by disturbing the sand on the northern side, about
twenty feet from the base, and about ten from the rocks that bound it
in that direction. The tradition is, that the bells of a convent were
buried here; the Bedouins trace the sounds to several wild and fanciful
causes; but, in the experiment now described, it was evident that the
sounds sometimes fell quicker on the ear, and at other times were more
prolonged, according to the Arab’s increasing or retarding the velocity
of his descent.

Dr. Chladni made many curious experiments on the figures assumed by
sand and similar substances, when strewed over vibrating sonorous
bodies. The reader may easily try an experiment of this kind. Let a
square piece of glass be taken, such as that used for windows, not less
than four or five inches over, the edges of which are to be smoothed
by grinding. Spread over the plate, as evenly as possible, a little
sand, and, holding it between the thumb and fore-finger, in the middle,
pass the bow of a violin against one of its edges, drawing it either
upwards or downwards, in a direction perpendicular to its surface. A
tremulous motion will be immediately observed, and the sand will assume
some particular and fixed figure. If the bow be passed over the middle
of one of the sides, the sand will arrange itself in the direction of
the two diagonals, dividing the square into four isosceles triangles.
If the bow be applied at any point which is one-fourth the length of
the square from any angle, the arrangement of the sand will represent
the two diameters of the square, dividing it into four equal figures
of the same form. If the square be held at the two extremities of
either diameter, and the bow be applied to the extremities of the other
diameter, the sand will take the figure of an oval, having its major
axis in the same direction as one of the diameters.

Other experiments of the same kind have since been made by M. Voigt,
and also by the celebrated Oersted. The latter covered a plate of
metal or glass with the lycopodium seed, or the seed of the club-moss,
instead of sand; he then tried to produce a sound in the manner of
Chladni, and instantly he saw the dust distribute itself into a number
of little regular tumuli, which put themselves in motion at their
extremities, or formed the figures discovered by this naturalist. They
always ranged themselves in the form of a curve, the convexity of which
was in proportion to the point touched by the violin bow, or towards
the point which has an analogous situation; the nearer that each of
these little heaps was to these points, the greater was its height,
a circumstance which gave remarkable regularity to the figure. The
interior of the small elevations thus obtained, were in constant motion
during the continuance of the sound, and the duration of the vibrations
might be observed on a plate from four to six inches in diameter. At
one moment the height increased, at another it diminished, and the dust
had the appearance of arranging itself in small globules, which rolled
one above another.

We may now return from these very interesting facts, to others on a
far larger scale. Near the Kom-el-Hett’an, or the mound of sandstone,
which makes the site of one of the palaces and temples of Amunoph III.,
are two sitting colossi, which seem to assert the grandeur of ancient
Thebes. The easternmost of the two is doubtless the statue reported
by ancient authors to utter a sound at the rising of the sun. It was
said to resemble the breaking of a metallic ring, or harp-string. The
superstition of its Roman visitors ascribed the colossus to Memnon, and
a multitude of inscriptions attributed to him miraculous powers. The
memory of its daily performance is still retained in the traditional
appellation of Salamat, “salutations,” by the modern inhabitants
of Thebes. It is said to have “saluted” the emperor Adrian and his
queen Sabina twice; but some persons, of course of humble rank, were
disappointed on their first visit, and obliged to return another
morning to satisfy their curiosity.

And yet there is ample reason to believe that the whole was an artifice
of the priests. In the lap of the statue is a stone; and as sir
Gardiner Wilkinson discovered, on examining the inscriptions, that
one Ballilla had compared the sound the stone emitted, when struck,
to the striking of brass, he determined to put the matter to the
test. Accordingly, posting some peasants below, and ascending to the
lap of the statue, he struck the sonorous block with a small hammer,
and inquiring what was heard by the peasants, they answered, “You
are striking brass.” “This,” says sir Gardiner, “convinced me that
the sound was the sound that deceived the Romans, and led Strabo to
observe that it appeared to him as the effect of a slight blow.” “The
Theban priests,” he adds, “must have been considerable gainers by the
credulity of those who visited their _lion_.”

The reader who may have taken the delightful walk from Tunbridge Wells
to the High Rocks, and examined particularly those huge masses, will
not fail to remember the one called “the Bell Rock.” On entering the
space between this one and the next, it may be struck with a stick,
when a sound will be heard like that produced, on a large metallic body
being smitten.

In the road cut by Napoleon between Savoy and France, and about two
miles from Les Echelles, there is a gallery twenty-seven feet high and
broad, and nine hundred and sixty feet in length, formed in the solid
rock. When this road was nearly complete, and the excavations commenced
at each end almost met, the partition was broken through by a pick-axe,
and a loud and deep sound was heard. We are indebted to Mr. Bakewell
for the following solution of this phenomenon. The mountain rises full
one thousand feet above the passage, and fifteen hundred above the
valley. The air, on the eastern side of the mountain, is sheltered both
on the south and west from the sun’s rays; and consequently must be
much colder than on the western side. The mountain, therefore, formed
a partition between the hot air of the valley, and the cold air of the
ravines on the eastern side. When the opening was made, the cold, and
therefore denser air, rushed into that rarefied by heat, and a loud
report was produced, in the same manner as when a bladder, placed over
an exhausted air-pump receiver, is burst.

Baron Humboldt informs us, on credible authority, that subterranean
sounds, resembling the tones of an organ, are heard on the banks of the
Oroonoko. He supposes that they arise from a difference of temperature
between the external atmosphere and the air confined in the crevices
of the adjacent granitic rocks. He concludes that, as the temperature
of the confined air is greatly increased during the day from the
conduction of heat by the rocks; and as the difference of temperature
between it and the atmosphere will reach its maximum about sunrise, the
sounds are produced by the escaping current.

The following illustrative experiment is not a little curious:--If a
tube formed of some elastic and sonorous substance be taken, and a jet
of inflamed hydrogen be introduced, a musical sound will be heard. This
will take place in a tube closed at one end, if it be large enough
to admit a sufficient quantity of atmospheric air to support the
combustion of the gas; but if the tube be open at both extremities,
the musical sound will be clear and full. Various conclusions have
been arrived at in reference to this phenomenon; but they have been
set aside by the experiments of Mr. Faraday, who attributes the sounds
produced by flames in tubes to a continual series of detonations or
explosions.

The first philosopher who exhibited the longitudinal vibration of
solids was Dr. Chladni. According to him, the best method of producing
these vibrations in rods, is by rubbing them, in the direction of their
length, with some soft substance, covered with powdered resin, or by
the finger. When glass tubes are employed, they should be rubbed with a
piece of rag spread over with fine sand, the tube being held by one of
the ends.

“In all longitudinal vibrations,” says the same writer, “the tones
depend merely on the length of the sonorous body, and on the quality
of the substance, the thickness and form being of no consideration;
yet the tones are not varied by the specific gravity of the vibrating
substance; for fir-wood, glass, and iron, give almost the same tone
as brass, oak, and the shanks of tobacco-pipes.” He also mentions
several kinds of longitudinal vibration; in one, to use his own words,
“there is a certain point in the middle at which the vibration of
each half-stops; in the next there are two, each at the distance of a
fourth part from the end; and, in the following, there are three, or
more. The tones correspond with the natural series of the numbers 1,
2, 3, 4, etc. If a rod be fastened at one end, during the first kind
of longitudinal vibration, the alternate expansion and contraction of
the whole rod will take place in such a manner, that they stop at the
fixed end; in the next tone there is a resting-point at the distance of
one-third from the free end; and in the following there are two. The
tones correspond with the numbers 1, 3, 5, 7, and the first of these
tones is an octave lower than the first tone of the same rod when
perfectly free.”

When examining the nature of sonorous bodies, Dr. Chladni imagined
the possibility of producing musical sounds by rubbing glass tubes
longitudinally. It, however, became a difficult question to determine
in what way an instrument of this kind should be constructed. After
much and long-continued unsuccessful thought, he returned home one
evening exhausted with walking, and he had scarcely closed his eyes
to fall asleep in his chair, when the arrangement he had so long been
seeking, occurred to his mind. He soon after completed an instrument,
which in every respect answered his expectations.

The euphone, signifying an instrument having a pleasant sound,
consists of forty-one fixed and parallel cylinders of glass, equal in
length and thickness. In its external appearance it resembles a small
writing-desk, which, when opened, presents a series of glass tubes
about sixteen inches long, and the thickness of a quill. They are fixed
in a perpendicular sounding-board, at the back of the instrument. When
used, the tubes are wetted with a sponge, and stroked in the direction
of their length with wet fingers; the intensity of the tone being
varied by greater or less pressure.

The singular phenomenon of sound occasioned by the vibration of soft
iron, produced by a galvanic current, was recently discovered by Mr.
Sage, and has been since verified by the observations of a French
philosopher, M. Marian. The experiments were made on a bar of iron,
which was fixed at the middle, in a horizontal position, each half
being inclosed in a large glass tube. By appropriate arrangements,
the galvanic circle was completed; and the longitudinal sound could
be distinguished, although it was feeble. The origin of the sound has
therefore been ascribed to a vibration in the interior of the iron bar;
and to the same cause are probably attributable many phenomena.

We now pass on to the violent agitation of the air, which is often
productive of surprising results. A quantity of feathers, for example,
was scattered one day over the market-place of Yarmouth, to the great
astonishment of a large number of persons assembled there. But what
was the cause? The timid considered that the phenomenon predicted some
great calamity; the inquisitive indulged in a thousand conjectures;
and the curious in natural history sagely accounted for it by a gale
of wind in the north, blowing wild-fowl feathers from the island of
St. Paul’s! Yet, not one of them was right. No guess would explain the
cause, and yet it arose from the prank of a frolicsome boy. Astley,
afterwards well known as sir Astley Cooper, had taken two of his
mother’s pillows to the top of the church, and when he had climbed as
far as he could up the steeple, he ripped them open, and scattered
their contents to the wind.

The _Philosophical Magazine_ contains an account of a singular snow
phenomenon that occurred in Orkney. The paper was contributed by Mr.
Clouston, of Stromness. “One night a heavy fall of snow took place,
which covered the plain to a depth of several inches. ‘Upon this pure
carpet,’ says the writer, ‘there rested next morning thousands of large
masses of snow, which contrasted strangely with its smooth surface.’
These occurred generally in patches, from one acre to a hundred in
extent, while clusters were often half-a-mile asunder. The fields so
covered looked as if they had been scattered over with cart-loads of
manure, and the latter covered with snow; but, on examination, the
masses were all found to be cylindrical, like hollow fluted rollers, or
ladies’ swan-down muffs, bearing a strong resemblance to the latter.
The largest measured 3½ feet long, and 7 feet in circumference. The
centres were nearly but not quite hollow; and by placing the head
within when the sun was bright, the concentric structure of the
cylinder was apparent. They did not occur in any of the adjoining
parishes, and were limited to a space of about five miles. The first
idea, as to the origin of these bodies, was, that they had fallen from
the clouds, and portended some direful calamity. But, had they fallen
from the atmosphere, their symmetry and loose texture must have been
destroyed. The writer having examined them, was soon convinced that
they had been formed by the wind rolling up the snow as boys form
snow-balls. Their round form, concentric structure, fluted surface, and
position with respect to the weather side of eminences, proved this;
and it was also evident, from the fact of their lying lengthways, with
their sides to the wind; and sometimes their tracks were visible in the
snow for twenty or thirty yards in the windward direction, whence they
had evidently gathered up their concentric layers.”

A correspondent of the _Athenæum_, in a letter, dated Naples,
January 3rd, 1847, mentions another very striking phenomenon. He was
standing on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean, accompanied by an
Italian friend. The air was perfectly tranquil, and yet in a moment
he felt himself grasped and encircled, as it were, by an unseen and
irresistible power, and, in spite of his struggles, he felt himself
sailing through the air at a balloon speed. After a few moments of
his aërial travelling, he was pitched halfway down the cliff into the
centre of an empty lime-kiln, not far from the sea. Nor was he alone;
there was another heavy fall; for his friend stood opposite him.
As they were encircled by a force, equal at all points, though the
shock was violent, they fell on their feet, but sank directly to the
ground, and there sat gazing at one another, unable either to move or
speak. Happily, no bones were broken; but so severe were the internal
injuries experienced, as to confine them to their beds for some time,
and they expect the internal effects of their involuntary and dangerous
voyage to remain for a considerable time.

As the population of the coasts of the Mediterranean are exceedingly
ignorant and superstitious, it is not surprising that the people in
the neighbourhood said that the Shal’ombre, the evil spirits, in the
lime-kiln, must have drawn the travellers in; and attributed their
deliverance to the intercession of the souls in purgatory for the acts
of charity they had performed!

To avoid any calamities, which the mariners of Naples generally
attribute to demoniacal influence, they resort to the practice of
witchcraft. Few are the barks that venture to the coral fishery, or the
coasting-trade, without having a magician on board. Persons of this
class, however, who practise the art supposed to be required at sea,
or who even reveal it to others, cannot receive absolution from an
ordinary confessor. It is comprehended under the head of “malaficia,”
one of the reserved sins to be found in the printed list of directions
appended to every confessional in Italy.

And yet, were witchcraft available in any case, it could not be in
connexion with the natural operation, which the mariners call “trombe
di mare.” The travellers suffered, in fact, from a strong wind,
connected with the phenomenon of a water spout, observed, for the most
part, at sea, but sometimes also on shore. Its usual appearance is
that of a dense cloud, like a conical pillar, which seems to consist
of condensed vapour, and is seen to descend with the apex downwards.
When over the sea, there are generally two cones, one projecting from
the cloud, the other from the water below it. They sometimes unite,
and then a flash of lightning is observed; on other occasions, they
disperse before any junction takes place. The effect appears to be,
at least partly, electrical; the cones being in opposite states, the
positive and negative attraction ensue; and, when union takes place,
which is indicated by the flash, the bodies are restored to their
equilibrium.

The magicians on the coast practise what they call the art of “cutting”
the “trombe.” As soon as it is seen approaching in the direction of a
boat, the wizard goes forward, sends all the crew aft, that they may
not be eye-witnesses of what he does; and using certain signs or words,
and making a movement with his arms as if in the act of cutting, the
enemy falls in two, and disappears.

We are reminded by these circumstances of “the news from the country,”
which the _Spectator_ describes as brought to him by sir Roger de
Coverley. One part of it was, that Moll White was dead, and that about
a month after one of the baronet’s barns fell down, which led to the
shrewd remark: “I do not think the old woman had anything to do with
it.” Nor do we think that the wizard of the Mediterranean has anything
to do with “cutting the wind.” The probability is, that he seizes on
the time for his movements, which, from experience, he knows to precede
the dispersion of the cloud, and thus acquires credit to which he has
not the slightest claim.

This chapter may appropriately be concluded by a reference to the
waters of the earth, which are often represented as endued with a
supernatural power. The Ilissus, rising on Mount Hymettus, to the east
of Athens, and overflowing its banks, furnishes a supply of excellent
water to the monastery of Sergiani. On one side, are three small
caverns in the rock, with double entrances; apparently the work of
nature, but probably aided by art. They are still supposed, as they
have been during past ages, to have a mystic virtue; and “no remedy,”
says Dodwell, is considered so efficacious for a sick child as “to drag
it two or three times from one cave to another; by which it is either
killed or cured. Several ancient wells are observed in the rock on each
side of the river. Near these, the foundation of a wall crosses the bed
of the Ilissus.”

Springs, in various parts of this and other countries, alternately
ebbing and flowing, have been, and are still, in some cases, supposed
to be under the ban of witchcraft. And yet the phenomena are easily
explained by natural laws. If the shorter end of a bent tube, A, whose
branches are of an unequal length, be placed in a basin of water, and
the air is drawn from it, we have a syphon, which will decant the
water into any vessel. Now such tubes as these are naturally formed
in the earth, and if the water be drained into a cavity, B, having a
syphon-like channel, C, it is evident that it will flow as long as the
syphon can act, and it will then cease.

[Illustration]

Seneca describes a spring near to Tempe, in Thessaly, the waters of
which are fatal to animals, and penetrate iron and copper. Yet, it is
probable, as Dr. Thomson states, that “this spring contained either
free sulphuric acid, or a highly acidulous salt of that acid. This
acid has been detected in a free state, as well as hydrochloric acid,
in the water of the Rio Vindagre, which descends from the volcano
of Paraiè, in Columbia, South America. Sulphuric acid is also found
in the waters of other volcanic regions. The sour springs of Byron,
in the Genessee country, about sixty miles south of the Erie canal,
contain sulphuric acid. Such waters would rapidly corrode both iron
and copper, converting the former into green, the latter into blue
vitriol--sulphates of both metals.”[E]

It would be easy to extend these instances, in connexion with
the phenomena of the globe, but the present will suffice to show
that a little knowledge of natural science is an antidote to many
superstitions. We proceed now to illustrations of agencies in active
operation of a different character.




CHAPTER V.

  Chemical wonders--Ice obtained in a red-hot vessel--The
    corpse candles of Wales--Luminous appearances after
    death--Sadoomeh the magician--The laughing gas--Sulphuric
    ether--Chloroform--Gunpowder compared with gun-cotton.


The word chemistry is, probably, derived from a Coptic root, signifying
obscure or secret; and the German word _geheim_ is traced to the same
origin. The objects of this department of science are, to investigate
the nature and properties of the elements of matter and their mutual
actions and combinations; to ascertain the proportions in which they
unite and the modes of separating them when united; and to inquire into
the laws which affect and rule these agencies. A few of the wonders
connected with this science may, therefore, appropriately follow the
terrestrial phenomena which have just been considered.

The Romish church has rendered chemistry available in connexion
with one of its prodigies, the so-called blood of St. Januarius. A
substance is shown to the deluded worshippers in a phial, appearing
in a congealed state; but, as masses are performed by the priests,
it becomes fluid. The illusion practised in this case may, however,
be easily effected by reddening sulphuric ether with orchanet, the
_onosma_ of Linnæus, and then saturating the tincture with spermaceti.
This preparation is solid at ten degrees above the freezing point, and
melts and boils at twenty degrees. Let the phial which contains it when
coagulated, be held in the hand for a few minutes, and the temperature
of the substance rises, and it becomes fluid. Even the warmth of a
public assembly is sufficient for this purpose.

Marcus, the chief of one of the sects in the second century, who wished
to amalgamate with Christianity the doctrines and rules of pagan rites,
filled with white wine three cups of transparent glass; and, while
he was praying, the liquid in one of the cups became like blood; in
another, of a purple colour; and in the third, sky-blue. But these
effects might easily be produced by chemical action. Professor Beyruss,
at the court of the duke of Brunswick, promised that his white dress
should become red during a repast; and the change took place, to the
astonishment of the prince and his guests. M. Vogel, who relates this
fact, does not reveal the means employed; but observes that, by pouring
lime-water on the juice of beet-root, a colourless liquid is obtained,
that a piece of cloth dipped in it and quickly dried becomes red in a
few hours by the contact of the air alone; and that this effect may be
accelerated in a room where champagne and other beverages charged with
carbonic acid gas are abundantly used. Still more rapidly might the
chance be effected in some temple, in the midst of rising incense and
burning torches; and the veil which covered things deemed sacred, might
thus have been seen to change from white to the colour of blood--a
presage of fearful disasters.

A series of remarkable experiments was performed by professor Boutigny,
at the British Association at Cambridge, in 1845. He commenced by
showing, that when cold water is poured on a hot metallic surface, the
heat is not communicated to it; and that the water assumes a spheroidal
form, and continues to roll about, upheld at a minute distance from
the heated surface, without boiling. The water was poured into a hot
platinum cup kept in rapid motion, and resembled a small globe of
glass dancing about. There was no hissing noise nor appearance of
steam, though the globule of water must, nevertheless, have evaporated
rapidly; for, after gradually diminishing in size, in the course of
about two minutes it disappeared. The same result takes place when any
substance capable of assuming a globular form is placed on a heated
surface. In proof of this, the professor placed in the heated cup of
platinum, iodine, ammonia, and some inflammable substances; each of
which became globular, and danced about like the globule of water, but
without emitting smell or vapour, or being inflamed, until the platinum
cup was cooled.

Another experiment was yet more curious. Professor Boutigny heated a
silver weight, of the same shape as the weight of a clock, until it
was red-hot, and then lowered it by a wire into a glass of cold water,
without there being any more indication of action in the water than if
the weight had been quite cold. Professor Boutigny advanced no theory
to account for these peculiar actions, further than that a film of
vapour intervenes between the heated body and the substance, which
prevents the communication of heat. The facts, however, he thought
were of importance in a practical point of view, both as regards
the tempering of metals, and in the explanation of the causes of
steam-boiler explosions. It would seem, from experiments in tempering
metals, that, if the metal be too much heated, the effect of plunging
it into water will be diminished. In steam-boilers, also, if the
heated water be introduced into a heated surface, the heat may not
be communicated to the water, and the boiler may become red-hot, and
without any great emission of steam; until, at length, when the boiler
cools, a vast quantity of steam would become suddenly generated and the
boiler burst.

The last and most curious experiment performed by professor Boutigny,
was the freezing of water in a red-hot vessel. Having heated a platinum
cup red-hot, he poured into it a small quantity of water, which was
kept in a globular form, as in the other experiments. He then poured
into the cup some liquid sulphurous acid; when a sudden evaporation
ensued, and, on quickly inverting the cup, there came out a small mass
of ice. The principle of this experiment, which called forth loud
and continued applause, is this:--sulphurous acid has the property
of boiling water when it is at a temperature below the freezing
point; and, when poured into the heated vessel, the suddenness of the
evaporation occasions a degree of cold sufficient to freeze water.

Liquid carbonic acid takes a high position for its freezing qualities.
Mr. Adams, of Kensington, manufactures this curious liquid as an
article of commerce, and has, occasionally, as much as nine gallons of
it in store. In drawing it from its powerful reservoirs, it evaporates
so rapidly as to freeze, and it is then a light porous mass, like snow.
If a small quantity of this is drenched with ether, the degree of cold
produced is even more intolerable to the touch than boiling water; a
drop or two of the mixture producing blisters, just as if the skin had
been burned! Mr. Adams states that, in eight minutes he has frozen a
mass of mercury weighing ten pounds.

In one department of knowledge--that of vapours and gases--on which
chemistry casts so much light, we discover many remarkable phenomena.
Few persons have resided, for example, in the fenny and swampy
districts of our island, without seeing, at least occasionally, the
ignis fatuus, Will-o’-the-wisp, or Jack-o’-lantern, hovering a few
feet above the surface of stagnant water.

    “Wild fires dancing o’er the heath,”

may be observed, indeed, at almost all times of the year, but it is
chiefly in autumn, and particularly in November, that they flit in mazy
circles and irregular evolutions; sometimes at the edge of a morass,
over the tops of withered sedges, reeds, and brushwood; and, at others,
over palings and hedgerows, or the still surface of the oozy bog.

It has been argued by some, that they are effects produced by luminous
insects, as the glow-worm, the gnat, and the mole-cricket. But this
theory is very unsatisfactory, and the cause which is now generally
acknowledged to be the real one, is far more natural. There is a
substance readily obtained, but of very offensive odour, called
phosphoret of lime; and, if a piece of this be taken and dropped into a
pool of water, little flames will be seen on its surface. These arise
from the power of the substance to decompose water, in consequence of
which, the hydrogen ascends to the surface, and ignites on coming in
contact with the air.

Dr. Weissenborn has given the following interesting statements:--“In
the year 1818, I was fortunate enough to get a fine view of the ignes
fatui operating on an extensive scale. I was then at Schnepfenthal,
in the duchy of Gotha; and in a clear November night, between eleven
and twelve o’clock, when I had just undressed, the bright moonshine
allured me to the window, to survey the expanse of boggy meadows, which
spread two or three English miles in length, a quarter-of-a-mile from
the foot of the hillock on which the house in which I then was, is
standing. Through the first third of the meadows there was a winding
rivulet, of the breadth of seven or eight feet, which then turns off
into an artificial bed, whilst the old bed continues in the direction
of the meadows, which are bounded on one side by a range of brushwood,
and on the other by cultivated grounds, with marshy dells here and
there. My intimate acquaintance with the locality, together with
the bright moonshine, enabled me to discover every object round the
meadow-ground, sufficiently well to judge of the position and direction
of the luminous phenomena, the display of which I saw as soon as I had
posted myself at the window. I perceived a number of reddish yellow
flames on different parts of the expanse of almost level ground. I
descried, perhaps, no more than six at a time, but dying away and
appearing in other places so rapidly, that it was impossible to count
them; but I should say, on a rough calculation, there were about twenty
or twenty-five within a second. Some were small and burned dimly;
others flashed with a bright flame, in a direction almost parallel
with the ground, and coinciding with that of the wind, which was
rather brisk. After having for some time looked with amazement at the
brilliant scene, as a whole, I tried to study its details, and soon
found that the flames which were nearest originated in a quagmire, the
position of which I knew exactly, by a solitary cluster of willows;
and I could trace a succession of flashes from that spot to a certain
point of the margin of the wood across the rivulet and meadow. The
distance of the two points from each other was more than half-a-mile,
and the flames travelled over it, perhaps, in less than a second. The
first flash was not always observed in the immediate neighbourhood
of the quagmire; but the succession of flames lay always in the same
straight line, and in the direction of the wind; whilst other sets were
observed, though not with the same distinctness, in the more distant
parts of the meadow-ground.

“After about an hour, a bank of mist began to overspread the meadows,
but I saw the light still glimmering through it, whilst I dressed
myself, in order to examine the phenomenon in its laboratory. However,
when I reached the meadows, the atmospheric conditions which gave rise
to the ignes fatui had ceased to exist.” Weissenborn then expresses his
belief that the phosphoric hydrogen gas, exhaled by certain swamps,
is kindled into flame by coming in contact with the atmospheric air;
but, as the hydrogen is not saturated with phosphorus, (the greater
portion of the latter being precipitated in passing through the water
as red oxide of phosphorus,) there is a certain electric condition
of the atmosphere necessary to cause the combustion. Thus, under
common circumstances, the gas is evolved and dissipated without being
observed; but when the state of the atmosphere is competent to effect
its combustion, the proper degree of electrical tension is lost at
the place where the explosion is effected; and, until it is restored,
or the gas comes in contact with that layer of the atmosphere which
possesses the requisite degree of electrical tension, a considerable
body of bog gas may collect, and be carried in the direction of the
wind, so as to give rise to a sort of quick fire, with occasional
flashes; in those places of the stream of gas where there happens to be
a considerable volume of it. The lights, which still frequently excite
apprehensions in Wales, and are popularly termed “corpse candles,” have
the same origin as the “ignes fatui.”

At the village of Wigmore, in Herefordshire, there are fields which
may be, and two houses which really are, illuminated with a natural
gas. This vapour, with which the subjacent strata seem to be charged,
is obtained in the following manner:--a hole is made in the cellar of
the house, or other locality, with an iron rod; a hollow tube is then
placed therein, fitted with a burner similar to those used for ordinary
gas-lights, and immediately on applying a flame to the jet, a soft and
brilliant light is obtained, which may be kept burning at pleasure. The
gas is very pure, quite free from any offensive smell, and does not
stain the ceilings, as is generally the case with the manufactured
article. Besides lighting rooms, etc., it has been used for cooking;
and, indeed, seems capable of the same applications as prepared
carburetted hydrogen. There are several fields in which the phenomenon
exists, and children are seen boring holes and setting the gas on fire
for amusement. It is now several months since the discovery was made;
and a great many of the curious have visited, and still continue to
visit, the spot.

If the Chinese are not manufacturers, they are, nevertheless, gas
consumers and employers on a large scale; and have evidently been so,
ages before the knowledge of its application was acquired by Europeans.
Beds of coal are frequently pierced by the borers of salt water; and
the inflammable gas is forced up in jets twenty or thirty feet in
height. From these fountains, the vapour has been conveyed to the
salt-works in pipes, and there used for the boiling and evaporation of
the salt; other tubes convey the gas intended for lighting the streets,
and the larger apartments and kitchens. As there is still more gas
than is required, the excess is conducted beyond the limits of the
salt-works, and forms separate chimneys or columns of flame.

A singular counterpart to this employment of natural gas, is witnessed
in the valley of the Kanawha, in Virginia. The origin, the means of
supply, the application to all the processes of manufacturing salt, and
of the appropriation of the surplus for the purposes of illumination,
are remarkably alike at such distant points as China and the United
States.

It has sometimes been stated of a departed person, that a luminous
appearance was observed to rest upon, and occasionally to surround, a
corpse. Such an effect has been described as supernatural--a Divine
attestation to extraordinary excellence; and, doubtless, Roman
Catholics have made the most of such circumstances in reference to
those whom they have denominated saints, and to whom a place has been
assigned in their calendar. And yet there was no departure in any such
instance from the ordinary laws of nature. Sir H. Marsh, in an essay on
“The Evolution of Light from the Human Subject,” states, that electric
sparks have been known to issue from the skin of some individuals
when rubbed lightly and quickly with a linen cloth. Not only has this
physician heard of such cases, but two had actually come under his
observation.

He was led to consider the subject by the following statement made to
him. “About an hour and-a-half before my sister’s death, we were struck
by appearances proceeding from her head, in a diagonal direction. She
was, at the time, in a half-recumbent position, and perfectly tranquil.
The light was pale as the moon, but quite evident to mamma, myself,
and sisters, who were watching over her at the time. One of us, at
first, thought that it was lightning; till, shortly after, we fancied
we perceived a sort of tremulous glimmer playing round the head of the
bed; and then, recollecting that we had read something of a similar
nature having been observed previous to dissolution, we had candles
brought into the room, fearing our dear sister would perceive it, and
that it might disturb the tranquillity of her last moments.”

A similar appearance around the person, and in the room, of a man who
fell a sacrifice to lingering disease in a remote district of the
south-west of Ireland, is recorded. All the witnesses agree in having
seen the light; many, however, came to the conclusion that it was
caused by supernatural agency, and a proof of miraculous interposition,
and even evidence of Divine favour. Considerable excitement was
occasioned in the south of Ireland by the following case, related by
Dr. D. Donavan, in the _Dublin Medical Press_, Jan. 15, 1840:--“I was
sent for,” the Doctor says, “in December, 1828, to see Harrington.
He had been under the care of my predecessor, and had been entered
in the dispensary book as a phthisical patient; and, on reference to
my note-book, I find that the stethoscopic and other indications of
phthisis were indubitable. He was under my care for about five years;
during which time, strange to say, the symptoms continued stationary;
and I had discontinued my attendance for about two years, when the
report became general, that mysterious lights were every night seen in
his cabin. The subject attracted a great deal of attention; and, like
everything else in Ireland, at once assumed a sectarian complexion;
some attributing the light to the miraculous interference of Heaven;
others, to the practice of the black art. Not regarding these views as
affording an explanation of the mystery, I determined to subject the
matter to the ordeal of my own senses; and, for this purpose, visited
the cabin for fourteen nights; and on three nights, only, did I witness
anything unusual. Once I perceived a luminous fog, resembling the
aurora borealis, and twice I saw the scintillations, like the sparkling
phosphorescence sometimes exhibited by the sea infusoria. From the
close scrutiny I made, I can, with certainty, say, that no imposition
was either employed or attempted. How are these appearances to be
accounted for? In answering this question, I would observe, that they
are never seen but in cases of extensive disease, and when considerable
alteration of structure has taken place. Processes analogous to
decomposition are witnessed in the human subject while the living
principle remains.”

On these, and similar facts, Dr. Marsh remarks: “Disease is but a
step toward dissolution, in which the vital powers are impaired; and,
unless the malady be checked, by the use of proper means, a period
will quickly approach when the chemical action will entirely prevail
over the whole frame. Phosphorescent matter may be generated in
organic bodies at a period of incipient decomposition; and when we
consider that phosphuretted hydrogen undergoes spontaneous combustion,
when brought in contact with the oxygen of the atmosphere, and that
the component parts of which this gas is formed exist in the body
in great abundance, an easy solution is at hand, accounting for the
luminous appearances which have been witnessed in dissecting-rooms, in
burial-grounds, and in marine substances, as well as on the approach of
dissolution.”

The Arabs are well known as believers in wonders; and of one of their
magicians, named Sadoomeh, the following story is told. “In order to
give one of his friends a treat, he took him to the distance of about
half-an-hour’s walk into the desert, on the north of Cairo, where
they both sat down upon the pebbly and sandy plain; and the magician
having uttered a spell, they suddenly found themselves in the midst of
a garden, like one of the gardens of Paradise, abounding with flowers
and fruit-trees of every kind, springing up from a soil covered with
verdure brilliant as the emerald, and irrigated by numerous streamlets
of the purest water. A repast of the most delicious viands and fruit
was spread before them by invisible hands; and they both ate and drank
to satiety, taking copious draughts of the various wines. At length
the magician’s guest sank into a deep sleep, and when he awoke he
found himself again in the pebbly and sandy plain, with Sadoomeh still
by his side.” “The reader will probably attribute this vision,” says
Mr. Lane, who relates the tale, “to a dose of opium or some similar
drug; and such I suppose to have been the means employed; for I cannot
doubt the integrity of the narrator, though he would not admit such
an explanation; regarding the whole as an affair of magic, ‘jinn,’ or
genii.”

A story of Gassendi, one of the most distinguished of naturalists,
mathematicians, and philosophers of France, in the sixteenth century,
will place this solution in a still clearer light. As he was taking
a morning walk near Deigne, in Provence, his ears were assailed by
repeated exclamations of “A sorcerer! a sorcerer!” On glancing behind
him, he beheld a mean and simple-looking man, with his hands tied,
whom a mob of the country-people were hurrying to prison. Gassendi’s
character and learning had given him great authority with them, and he
desired to be left alone with the man. They immediately surrendered
him, and Gassendi said to him, in private, “My friend, you must tell
me sincerely, whether you have made a compact with the devil or not:
if you confess it, I will give you your liberty immediately; but, if
you refuse to tell me, I will give you immediately into the hands of a
magistrate.” The man answered, “Sir, I will own that I go to a meeting
of wizards every day. One of my friends has given me a drug, which I
take to effect this, and I have been received as a sorcerer these three
years.” He then described the proceedings of these meetings, and spoke
of the different devils, as if he had been all his life acquainted
with them. “Show me,” said Gassendi, “the drug which you take to attend
this infernal meeting, for I intend to go there with you to-night.”
The man replied, “As you please, Sir; I will take you at midnight, as
soon as the clock strikes twelve.” Accordingly, he met Gassendi at the
appointed hour, and, showing him two boluses, each of the size of a
walnut, he desired him to swallow one, as soon as Gassendi had seen him
swallow the other, and then they lay down together on a goat-skin. The
man soon fell asleep, but Gassendi remained awake and watched him, and
perceived that he was greatly disturbed in his slumbers, and writhed
and twisted his body about, as if he had been troubled by bad dreams.
At the expiration of five or six hours he awoke, and said to Gassendi,
“I am sure, Sir, you ought to be satisfied with the manner in which
the great goat received you; he conferred on you a high honour when
he permitted you to kiss his tail the first time he ever saw you.” It
was thus apparent that the deleterious opiate had operated upon his
imagination. Gassendi, compassionating his weakness and credulity,
took pains to convince him of his self-delusion; and, showing him
the bolus, he gave it to a dog, who soon fell asleep, and suffered
great convulsions. The poor fellow was set at liberty to undeceive
his brethren, who had, like him, been lulled by the noxious drug into
imagining themselves sorcerers.

In India there is a native plant, which, after it has flowered, is
dried and sold in the bazaars of Calcutta, for smoking. The Hindoos
call it “ganpah,” and they give the name of “bang” or “subjee” to
the large leaves and capsules which they use for the same purpose.
The plant is a species of hemp; the smoking of which is considered
so delightful, according to Dr. Thomson, as to have been denominated
by such epithets as “Assuager of sorrow,” “Increaser of pleasure,”
“Cementer of friendship,” “Laughter-mover,” and others of the same kind.

On the same authority it is stated, that in Nepaul, the resin only
is used; in some places it is collected by native coolies, walking
through the fields of hemp at the time the plants give forth the resin,
which, adhering to the skin, is scraped off from it, and kneaded into
balls. It is taken in doses, from a grain to two grains, and causes
a delightful delirium. When repeated, however, it is followed by
catalepsy, or that state of insensibility which allows the body to be
moulded into any form like a Dutch-jointed doll, the limbs remaining in
the position in which they were placed, though contrary to the law of
gravity, and continuing so for many hours.

We are well acquainted with various means of acting in an extraordinary
manner on the human frame. The writer, in common with multitudes, has
witnessed, for example, the operation of nitrous oxide, often called
“the laughing-gas.” It acts, however, very differently on different
persons; some laugh immoderately, others become depressed, others
assume the airs of vanity and importance which accord with their most
cherished dispositions; and some can only be forcibly restrained from
deeds of great violence. It is certainly a most singular sight to see
a person laughing most boisterously, or strutting with all the hauteur
of a newly-made potentate, suddenly subside as the action of the gas
ceases, into a very unobtrusive individual.

We may now briefly allude to one of the most extraordinary applications
of the present times. The late sir Humphry Davy made many experiments
on the effects of various gases on the human lungs. He found, in his
own person, that the inhalation of nitrous oxide removed head-ache,
and greatly assuaged the pain of cutting a wisdom-tooth. In his works,
edited by Dr. John Davy, is the following passage:--

“As nitrous oxide, in its extensive operation, appears capable of
destroying physical pain, it may probably be used with advantage during
surgical operations in which no great effusion of blood takes place.”
Here is the germ of the recent application of ether.

“The effects of this inhalation, as indicated by the patient’s own
recollection,” says a writer in the _North British Review_, “are very
various. In general they are somewhat as follows:--A pleasing sense
of soothing succeeds the first irksomeness of the pungent vapour--a
soothing of both mind and body. Ringing in the ears takes place, with
some confusion of sight and intellectual perception. The limbs are
felt cold and powerless; the hands and feet first, then the knees;
and the feeling is as if these parts had ceased to be peculiar
property, and dropped away. This sensation may gradually creep over
the whole frame; the patient becoming, in more senses than one, truly
etherealized; reduced to the condition of no body and all soul. The
objects around are either lost sight of or strangely perverted; fancied
shadows flit before the eyes, and then a dream sets in--sometimes calm
and placid, sometimes active and bustling, sometimes very pleasurable,
sometimes frightful, as a nightmare. Emerging, the figures and scenes
shift rapidly, and grow fainter and fainter; present objects are
caught by the eye once more, the ringing of the ears is heard again,
consciousness and self-control return, a tendency to excited talking is
very manifest, movement is unsteady, and, both in mind and body, a kind
of intoxication is declared. It is, however, of a light and airy kind;
very pure, very pleasant, and very passing, and, when gone, leaving
very little trace behind.

“Experience has fully shown that the brain may be acted on so as to
annihilate, for the time, what may be termed the faculty of feeling
pain; the organ of general sense may be lulled into profound sleep,
while the organ of special sense, and the organ of intellectual
function remain wide awake, active, and busily employed. The patient
may feel no pain under very cruel cutting, and yet he may see,
hear, taste, and smell, as well as ever, to all appearance; and he
may also be perfectly conscious of everything within reach of his
observation--able to reason on such events most lucidly, and able to
retain both the events and the reasoning in his memory afterwards.
We have seen a patient following the operator with her eyes most
intelligently and watchfully, as he shifted his place near her, lifted
his knife, and proceeded to use it; wincing not at all during its use;
answering questions by gesture, very readily and plainly; and, after
the operation was over, narrating every event as it occurred; declaring
that she knew and saw all; stating that she knew and felt that she was
being cut, and yet that she felt no pain whatever. Patients have said,
quietly, ‘You are sawing now,’ during the use of the saw in amputation;
and afterwards they have declared most solemnly, that though quite
conscious of that part of the operation, yet they felt no pain. We
have seen a patient enduring amputation of a limb without any sign
of suffering, opening her eyes during the performance, at its most
painful part, descrying a country practitioner at some distance--under
whose care she had formerly been, and whom she had not seen for some
considerable time--addressing him by name, and requesting that he might
not leave town without seeing her.”

Since the period to which the writer just quoted refers, Dr.
Simpson, of Edinburgh, has discovered a substitute for sulphuric
ether--chloroform, or the perchloride of formyle. It is stated to
possess over sulphuric ether the following advantages:--1. A greatly
less quantity of chloroform than of ether is requisite to produce the
desired effect. 2. Its action is much more rapid and complete, and
generally more enduring. 3. The inhalation and influence of chloroform
are far more agreeable and pleasant than those of ether. 4. The use
of chloroform is less expensive than that of ether. 5. Its odour is
not unpleasant; nor does it exhale in a disagreeable form from the
lungs of the patient, as so generally happens with sulphuric ether.
6. Being required in much less quantity, it is much more portable and
transmissible than sulphuric ether. 7. No special kind of inhaler
or instrument is necessary for its exhibition. A little of the
liquid diffused upon the interior of a hollow-shaped sponge, or on a
pocket-handkerchief, or a piece of linen or paper, or held over the
mouth and nostrils, so as to be fully inhaled, generally suffices, in
about a minute or two, to produce the effect. This agent, however,
requires to be used to annul pain under the direction of a judicious
medical practitioner; it may otherwise be productive of serious
consequences.

A prodigious force often arises from chemical affinity. Of this,
gunpowder presents a familiar instance. It is formed of nitre,
sulphur, and charcoal, which, in the ordinary state, are only combined
mechanically; but no sooner is this compound ignited, than these
substances are brought, by chemical action, into such close contact,
as to evolve a mighty and destructive power. It seemed likely to be
thrown into the shade by the discovery of gun-cotton as an explosive
agent, which excited extraordinary interest throughout Europe. On
projectile experiments being made, a gun, charged with thirty grains
of prepared cotton, propelled an equal charge of shot, with greater
force and precision, at a distance of forty yards, than were gained
by the same gun loaded with a hundred-and-twenty grains of gunpowder.
A rifle, charged with fifty-four and-a-half grains of gunpowder,
sent a ball through seven boards, half-an-inch in thickness, at a
distance of forty yards; the same rifle, charged with forty grains of
gun-cotton, caused the ball to enter the eighth board. Another rifle,
which had been used for elephant-shooting, and consequently carried a
much larger ball, charged with forty grains of gun-cotton, forced the
ball through eight boards, at a distance of ninety yards. In no case
was the discharge accompanied by a greater recoil than usual; and the
reports were not louder than those accompanying the discharge of guns
and rifles loaded with gunpowder. According to the specification of the
patentee, M. Schönbein, cotton is preferred for this purpose, freed
from extraneous matters; and it is considered desirable to operate on
the clean fibres of the cotton in a dry state, by means of nitric and
sulphuric acids. These are mixed together in the proportion of one
measure of nitric acid to three measures of sulphuric acid, in any
suitable or convenient vessel not liable to be affected by the acids.
A great degree of heat being generated by the mixture, it is left to
cool until its temperature falls to sixty or fifty degrees Fahrenheit.
The cotton is then immersed in it; and, in order that it may become
thoroughly saturated with the acids, it is stirred with a rod of glass,
or other material, not affected by the acids. The cotton should be
introduced in as open a state as practicable. The acids are then poured
or drawn off, and the cotton gently pressed by a presser of glazed
earthenware, to take out the acids, after which it is covered up in
the vessel, and allowed to stand for about an hour. It is subsequently
washed in a continuous flow of water, until the presence of the acids
is not indicated by the ordinary test of litmus paper. To remove any
uncombined portions of the acids which may remain after the cleansing
process, the patentee dips the cotton in a weak solution of carbonate
of potash, composed of one ounce of carbonate of potash to one gallon
of water, and partially dries it by pressing, as before. The cotton is
then highly explosive, and may be used in that state; but, to increase
its explosive power, it is dipped in a weak solution of nitrate of
potash, and, lastly, dried in a room heated by hot air, or steam, to
about one hundred and fifty degrees Fahrenheit.

The advantages and disadvantages of this substance have thus been
stated by professor Brande:--“The disadvantages are, that the effects
are less regular than those of gunpowder; that it is more dangerous,
because inflaming at a lower temperature; that it does not take
fire when compressed in tubes; that it burns slowly in all kinds of
cartridges; that guns and pistols must be altered to admit of its
use; that it is not adapted for the use of the army; that the barrel
of the gun is moistened by the water produced during combustion. The
advantages, on the other hand, may be stated as follows:--Its extreme
cleanliness, leaving no residue after combustion; its freedom from
all bad smell; the facility and the safety of its preparation; the
possessing treble the force of gunpowder; its explosion producing
no smoke, and less noise than that of gunpowder; its filamentary
nature admitting of its being used over head in mining operations;
its not being liable (as a granulated substance is) to the accidents
of leakage; its occasioning very little recoil.”--Every benevolent
mind must wish to hear no more of “the confused noise of battle and
of garments rolled in blood;” and that the time may soon arrive when
men shall “beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears
into pruning-hooks;” when “they shall learn war no more,” but yield
themselves heartily and devotedly to the benignant sway of the Prince
of peace. There seems, however, no reason to conclude that gun-cotton
will be employed for any hostile purpose, the Board of Ordnance having
definitely decided against its adoption in the military and naval
services. The principal objection to it is, the very low temperature at
which it explodes. The mere heating of a gun, from a number of charges
successively fired, has been proved sufficient to cause an instant
explosion of gun-cotton.

In mining, it is likely to be of great use. In the slate-quarries at
Penrhyns it has been found far superior to gunpowder. A huge mass of
sixty tons’ weight, for instance, was gently pushed from its firmly
compacted bed by the explosion of only eight ounces of cotton, while
the slate was not splintered. In other great works it will also be of
service. In a cutting on the Syston and Peterborough railway, not far
from Stamford, experiments showed the average powers of the gun-cotton
to be in the proportion of one to six of gunpowder; so that, in a hard
freestone foundation, about five feet thick, and with an entire depth
of twenty-eight feet, where six holes were necessary for gunpowder,
only one was required for gun-cotton. In all blasting operations,
whether in open cuttings, tunnels, or deep mines, a great saving of
time, labour, and cost, is thus likely to be effected.




CHAPTER VI.

  Light and its phenomena--Magic pictures--The optical
    paradox--Chinese metallic mirrors--Effect of an optical
    instrument on a superstitious mind--Origin of photography--The
    Talbotype--The Daguerreotype--Sunlight pictures.


The cause of those sensations which we refer to the eyes, or that which
produces the sense of seeing, is light. The phenomena of vision have
always been regarded as among the most interesting branches of natural
science. The knowledge of the laws which regulate the phenomena of
light, constitutes the science of optics, which explains the cause of
many most striking illusions.

Magic pictures have been produced, which, when seen in a certain point
through a glass, exhibit an object different from that be held by the
naked eye. Niceron tells us that he executed at Paris, and deposited in
the library of the Minimes of the Place Royale, a picture of this kind;
when seen by the naked eye, it represented fifteen portraits of Turkish
sultans, but, when viewed through the glass, it was a portrait of Louis
XIII.

The writer has often seen a singular transformation effected by an
ingenious device, called the optical paradox: thus an eagle may be
changed into a lion, and a dog into a cat.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

For this purpose, a wooden three-sided box must be prepared, and
through the open part may slide the various drawings to be used, as B.
Connected with this, there must be a pillar, C, and a horizontal bar
holding a tube, D, having in it a glass placed exactly over the centre.
The change is partly dependent on the glass, the sides of which are
flat and diverge from its hexagonal base upwards, to a point in the
axis of the glass, like a pyramid, E, forming an isosceles triangle.
All that is now necessary to the completion of the change, is in the
border of the drawing, in which the various parts required for the new
figure are cleverly introduced; so that when the distance of the glass
from the eye is rightly adjusted, each angular side will take up its
portion from the border, and present to the eye the various parts in an
entire figure. The shape of the glass prevents the appearance of any
particular figure in the centre, as the eagle, for instance; while the
lion, arranged in portions and drawn on the circle of refraction at six
different parts of the border, yet artfully disguised by blending with
it, the transformation will be completely produced.

A paper has lately been read to the Academy of Sciences at Paris, by M.
Stanislaus Julien, on the metallic mirrors made in China, and to which
the name of “magic mirrors” has been given. Hitherto all attempts by
Europeans to obtain information as to the process, in the localities
where they are manufactured, have proved failures, some of the persons
applied to being unwilling to reveal the secret, and others being
ignorant of the process. These mirrors are called magical, because,
if they receive the rays of the sun on their polished surface, the
characters, or flowers _in relief_, which exist on the other side, are
faithfully reproduced. The following information has been obtained
by M. Julien, from the writings of an author named Ou-tseu-hing, who
lived between 1260 and 1341:--“The cause of this phenomenon is the
distinct use of fine copper and rough copper. If, on the under side,
there be produced, by casting in a mould, the figure of a dragon in
a circle, there is then engraved deeply on the disc a dragon exactly
similar. Then, the parts which have been cut are filled with rather
rough copper; and this is, by the action of fire, incorporated with
the other metal, which is of a finer nature. The face of the mirror
is next prepared, and a slight coating of tin is spread over it. If
the polished disc of a mirror so prepared be turned towards the sun,
and the image be reflected on a wall, it presents distinctly the clear
portion and the dark portion, the one of the fine, and the other of the
rough copper.” Ou-tseu-hing states, that he had ascertained this by a
careful inspection of the fragments of a broken mirror.

It is easy for an ignorant and superstitious mind to confound a very
harmless and simple instrument with one of magical power. We have an
example of this in Dodwell’s description of his residence at Athens.
On his first admission within the venerable walls of the Acropolis,
it was necessary to offer a small present to the disdar, or Turkish
governor, and an additional sum to make drawings and observations
without being molested by the servants of the garrison. The disdar
proved to be a man of bad faith and insatiable rapacity, and, after
experiencing numerous vexations from the mercenary Turk, Dodwell was
at length released from his importunities by a singular circumstance.
As he was one day engaged in drawing the Parthenon, with the aid of
his camera obscura, the disdar, whose surprise was excited by the
novelty of the sight, asked, with a sort of fretful inquietude, what
new conjuration he was performing with that extraordinary machine.
Dodwell endeavoured to explain it, by putting in a clean sheet of
paper, and making him look at the instrument; but he no sooner saw the
Temple of Minerva reflected on the paper in all its lines and colours,
than he imagined the effect was produced by some magical process; his
astonishment appeared mingled with alarm, and, stroking his long black
beard, he repeated several times the words Allah, Masch-Allah--a term
of admiration with the Turks, signifying that which is made by God.

Again he looked into the camera obscura, with a kind of cautious
diffidence, and, at that moment, some of his soldiers happening to
pass before the reflecting-glass, were beheld by the astonished disdar
walking upon the paper. He now became outrageous; he assailed Dodwell
with various opprobrious epithets, one of which was Bonaparte--the
appellation being at the time synonymous to that of magician, or of
any one supposed to be endowed with supernatural talents--and declared
that, if Dodwell chose, he might take away all the stones in the
temple, but that he would not permit his soldiers to be conjured into
a box. “When I found,” says Dodwell, “that it was no use to reason
with his ignorance, I changed my tone, and told him that, if he did
not leave me unmolested, I would put him into my box; and that he
should find it a very difficult matter to get out again. His alarm was
now visible; he immediately retired, and ever after stared at me with
a mixture of apprehension and amazement. When he saw me come to the
Acropolis, he carefully avoided my approach; and never afterwards gave
me any further molestation.”

[Illustration]

The portable camera obscura, represented by the diagram, has often
yielded much pleasure in the domestic circle, while the larger ones,
which are publicly exhibited, are highly interesting. No person,
perhaps, has witnessed the neatness of outline, the precision of
form, the truth of colouring, and the sweet gradations of tint, thus
apparent, without regretting that an imagery so exquisite and faithful
to nature could not be made to fix itself permanently on the tablet of
the machine. Yet, in the estimation of all, such a wish seemed destined
to take its place among other dreams of beautiful things; the splendid
but impracticable conceptions in which men of science and ardent
temperament have sometimes indulged. Such a dream, however, has been
realized of late.

[Illustration]

Mr. Thomas Wedgewood, the celebrated porcelain manufacturer, so early
as 1802, published, in the journals of the Royal Institution, a
method of copying paintings upon glass, and of making profiles by the
agency of light upon nitrate of silver. The experiments he made were
repeated by sir Humphry Davy; but several years after, MM. Niepcé
and Daguerre, and Mr. Fox Talbot, laid the foundation of the present
state of photographic drawing. The former engaged in a long series of
experiments to render metallic surfaces peculiarly sensitive; the aim
of the latter was to produce this effect on paper. The camera obscura
used for this purpose is a rectangular box, with a double convex lens,
A, at one end, and a glass reflector, B, which is generally a piece
of looking-glass, at the other. Now, supposing the rays of light to
proceed from an extensive landscape, and pass through this small convex
lens, as we well know they may do, what will be the effect produced?
The scene will, in the first place, be thrown on the reflector, which
is fixed at an angle of forty-five degrees to the horizon. Now it
follows, from a law well known to opticians, that these rays will
be reflected to the top of the box, immediately over the mirror; so
that if a ground glass, or any other medium capable of receiving the
reflected image, be placed there, a representation of the landscape
may be observed. As then, it is proved, by innumerable experiments,
that reflected light has, in proportion to its power, as much influence
on prepared or photographic paper, as the direct rays of the sun; it
follows that, if a piece of it be placed in the same situation as the
ground glass, the reflected image, be it a landscape, a figure, or
an artificial object, will be formed on it. All that is, therefore,
required to be done, in using the camera obscura for photographic
drawing, is to place upon the opening at the top of the box the
prepared paper, and immediately to cover it with the lid, C, so that
it may not be acted upon by any other light than that reflected from
the mirror. The time required for producing the necessary effect will
depend on several circumstances, such as the preparation of the paper
and the intensity of the light when the experiment is made; the latter,
however, is by far the more important. On a bright sun-shining day,
the drawing will be produced in one-half the time, and with far more
sharpness of outline, than on a dull wintry day, when the sun struggles
with the mists by which its radiant beams are encumbered. “The Pencil
of Nature,” is the expressive title of a collection of photographic
drawings, produced by Mr. Talbot. Upon the third part of this work, we
find the following acute criticism in the _Athenæum_, No. 920.

“The subjects are ‘The Entrance Gateway of Queen’s College, Oxford;’
‘The Ladder,’ in which we have three figures from the life; and ‘A
View of the Author’s Residence, Lacock Abbey, in Wiltshire.’ In the
first of these, the truth-telling character of photographic pictures
is pleasingly shown. It appears, by the turret clock, that the view
was taken a little after two, when the sun was shining obliquely upon
the building. The story of every stone is told, and the crumbling of
its surface under the action of atmospheric influences is distinctly
marked. The figures in ‘The Ladder’ are prettily arranged, but the face
of the boy is distorted, from the circumstance of its being so very
near the edge of the field of view embraced by the lens of the camera
obscura. In looking at this photograph, we are led at once to reflect
on the truth to nature observed by Rembrandt, in the disposition of
his lights and shadows. We have no violent contrasts; even the highest
lights and the deepest shadows seem to melt into each other, and the
middle tints are but the harmonizing gradations. Without the aid of
colour, with simple brown and white, so charming a result is produced,
that, looking at the picture from a little distance, we are almost
led to fancy that the introduction of colour would add nothing to its
charm.”

The following is the patent process for obtaining a negative
picture:--Take a sheet of paper, with a smooth surface, and a close
and even texture, and without the water-mark, and wash one side of
it, by means of a soft camel’s-hair brush, with a solution composed of
one hundred grains of crystallized nitrate of silver dissolved in six
ounces of distilled water, having previously marked with a cross the
side which is to be washed. When the paper has been dried cautiously at
the fire, or spontaneously in the dark, immerse it for a few minutes
(two minutes, at a temperature of sixty-five degrees,) in a solution
of iodide of potassium, consisting of five hundred grains to one pint
of distilled water. The paper is then to be dipped in water, and
then dried, by applying blotting-paper to it lightly, and afterwards
exposing it to the heat of a fire, or allowing it to dry spontaneously.
The paper thus prepared is called iodized paper, and may be kept for
any length of time in a portfolio not exposed to light. When a sheet of
paper is required for use, wash it with the following solution, which
we shall call No. 1; take one hundred grains of nitrate of silver,
dissolved in two ounces of distilled water, and add to this one-third
of its volume of strong acetic acid. Make another solution, No. 2, by
dissolving crystallized gallic acid in cold distilled water, and then
mix the two solutions together in equal proportions, and in no greater
quantity than is required for immediate use, as it will not keep long
without spoiling. This mixture, called gallo-nitrate of silver, by the
patentee, is then to be spread, by a soft camel’s-hair brush, on the
marked side of the iodized paper; and, after allowing the paper to
remain half-a-minute to absorb the solution, it should be dipped in
distilled water and dried lightly; first with blotting-paper, and then
by holding the paper at a considerable distance from the fire. When
dry, the paper is ready, and it is advisable to use it within a few
hours.

The paper, which is highly sensitive to light, must now be placed
in the camera obscura, in order to receive on its marked surface a
distinct image of the landscape or person whose picture is required.
After remaining in the camera from ten seconds to several minutes,
according to the intensity of the light, it is taken out of the
camera in a dark room. If the object has been strongly illuminated,
or if the paper has been long in the camera, a sensible picture will
be seen on the paper; but, if the time of exposure has been short,
or the illumination feeble, the paper will “appear entirely blank.”
An invisible image, however, is impressed on the paper, and may
be rendered apparent by the following process:--Take some of the
gallo-nitrate of silver, and, with a soft camel’s-hair brush, wash the
paper all over with this liquid, then hold it before a gentle fire,
and, in a short time, the image will begin to appear; and those parts
upon which the light has acted most strongly will become brown or
black, while the others remain white. The image continues to grow more
and more distinct for some time, and, when it becomes sufficiently so,
the operation must be terminated, and the picture fixed. In order to
effect this, the paper must be dipped first into water, then partly
dried by blotting-paper, and afterwards washed with a solution of
bromide of potassium, consisting of one hundred grains of the salt,
dissolved in eight or ten ounces of water. The picture is then finally
washed in water and dried as before. In place of bromide of potassium,
a strong solution of common salt may be used.

By this process we get a negative picture--having the lights dark
and the shades light--and from it positive pictures may be obtained
as follows:--Dip a sheet of good paper in a solution of common salt,
consisting of one part of a saturated solution, to eight parts of
water, and dry it first with blotting-paper, and then spontaneously.
Mark one of its sides, and wash that side with a solution of nitrate
of silver, which we shall call No. 3, consisting of eighty grains of
salt, to one ounce of distilled water. When this paper is dry, place it
with its marked side uppermost on a flat board or surface of any kind,
and above it put the negative picture, which should be pressed against
the nitrated or positive paper by means of a glass plate and screws.
In the course of ten or fifteen minutes of a bright sunshine, or of
several hours of common daylight, a fine positive picture will be found
on the paper beneath the negative picture. When this picture has been
well washed or soaked in water, it is washed over with the solution
of bromide of potassium, already mentioned, or plunged in a strong
solution of common salt.[F]

A singular result of the application of this invention occurred to an
accomplished traveller, who ascended Mount Etna, in order to obtain
representations of that remarkable volcano. No sooner was the camera
fixed on the edge of the crater, and the sensitive paper introduced,
than a partial irruption took place, and the traveller had to fly for
his life. On the cessation of the irruption, he returned; doubtless,
with the expectation of merely collecting the fragments of his valuable
instrument; when, to his great astonishment and delight, he discovered
not only that his camera was absolutely uninjured, but that it
contained an admirable representation of the crater and the irruption.

A brief account of the process of the Daguerreotype may now be given. A
plate of silvered copper, about as thick as a shilling, is well cleaned
and polished by rubbing it with cotton, fine pumice powder, and dilute
nitric acid, and afterwards exposed to the heat of a spirit-lamp,
placed below it, till a strong white coating is formed on the polished
surface. On the plate being cooled suddenly by means of a cold slab of
stone or of metal, the white coating is removed by repeatedly polishing
it with dry pumice and cotton, and then three times more with the
dilute nitric acid and pumice powder.

A careful cleaning being thus given to the plate, it is placed in a box
containing iodine, till it becomes visibly covered with a golden film
of that substance, which must neither be pale nor purple. It is then
placed in the camera till a distinct picture of whatever appears before
it is formed upon the surface; it remains there for a period depending
on the intensity of the light, and is then removed to a metallic box,
having in it a cup containing at least three ounces of mercury. Placed
below the cup is a spirit-lamp, which throws off the mercurial vapour;
and, in exact proportion as this vapour deposits itself on the parts
of the plate which have been acted upon by the light, is the picture
developed on the surface of the plate, by the adhesion of the white
mercurial vapour to the different parts which had been impressed by
the light. As soon as the picture appears complete, the plate is
placed in a trough of sheet-copper, containing either a saturated
solution of common salt, or a weak solution of hyposulphite of soda.
Thus, the coating of iodine will be dissolved, the yellow colour quite
disappearing; hot, but not boiling, distilled water is then poured over
the plate, and any drops which remain are removed by blowing upon them.

The picture being now finished, is preserved from dust by placing it
in a frame, and covering it with glass. In every successful operation,
the picture is almost as perfect in its details as that of the camera
obscura itself; but, as the light of the sun is only white, there can
be, of course, none of the varied tints of nature. The shades are
supplied by the black polish of the metallic surface which, when it
reflects a luminous object, the white vapour of the mercury appears
in shade, and thus gives us either a positive or a negative picture,
according to the light in which it is viewed.

Various improvements have gradually been made in the processes of the
Daguerreotype and the Talbotype, which our limited space forbids us to
describe. Mr. Beard has added colour to his Daguerreotype portraits,
which is uniform and so transparent as not to affect the likeness
in any degree, while the life-like effect is greatly heightened. M.
Claudet has found that, when the sun is rendered red by the vapours of
the atmosphere, it not only produces no effect upon the Daguerreotype
plate, but that it destroys the effect previously produced by the
white light. If the image of the red sun be taken in the camera
obscura, it produces upon the Daguerreotype plate a black image. By
covering a Daguerreotype plate previously affected by light with a
red, orange, or yellow glass, the radiation through these coloured
media has also the property of destroying the action produced by white
light. The most interesting part of M. Claudet’s statement refers to
the fact that, after the destroying action of the red, orange, and
yellow radiations, the plate is restored to its former sensitiveness;
so that, after having been affected by white light, and restored by
the destructive action of the red, orange, and yellow radiations, it
is possible to produce a photographic effect, as upon a plate just
prepared with iodine and bromine. This alternate acting and destroying
action may be repeated _ad infinitum_, without altering the final
state of the plate. This curious fact proves, evidently, that, in the
Daguerreotype process, light does not alter the chemical compound on
the plate, and that the affinity for mercury is the result of some new
property imparted by the action of the rays of light. M. Claudet’s
experiments prove, also, that the red and yellow rays are endowed
with a photographic action of their own, which, as well as that of
the blue and violet rays, gives an affinity for mercurial vapour. The
photographic action of the red ray is destroyed by the yellow, that
of the yellow by the red; the red and yellow destroy the photographic
action of the blue, and the blue destroys the action of the others.
The photographic, or the destroying action of any particular ray
cannot be continued by any other. It appears, therefore, that each
radiation changes the state of the plate, and each change produces the
sensitiveness to mercurial vapour when it does not exist, and destroys
this sensitiveness when it does exist.[G]

M. Regnault has laid before the Academy of Sciences, at Paris, some
photographic specimens on paper, obtained by M. Blanquart-Evrard, by
a modification of the usual process. In the preparations hitherto
described, one part of the process presented serious difficulties,
namely, that of the use of gallic acid in order to produce the
impression. It happened frequently, that a proof taken in too mild a
light, or of too large dimensions, could not receive the necessary
force before disappearing, as it may be said, under the uniform colour
produced by the mixture of the gallic acid with the aceto-azotate of
silver, with which the paper is imbued. After having ascertained that
the gallic acid produces this uniform colour on the impression, only
because it is combined in small quantity with the aceto-azotate of
silver, M. Blanquart-Evrard removes all the difficulty. After taking
the proof from the camera obscura, he plunges it into a vessel of
large dimensions, covered with a layer of one centimètre of gallic
acid of cold saturation. The bath is agitated during the immersion;
and the action may be thus prolonged until the impression has obtained
the necessary force to secure a good result. The proof is then
washed, and the gallic acid is replaced by a solution of bromure of
potassium, or chloruret of sodium, in which it is left for about a
quarter-of-an-hour.[H]

The chromatype, discovered by Mr. Hunt, consists in washing good
letter-paper with the following solution:--

        Bi-chromate of potash    10 grains
        Sulphate of copper       20 grains
        Distilled water           1 ounce

Papers prepared with this are of a pale yellow colour; they may be
kept for any length of time without injury, and are always ready for
use. For copying botanical specimens or engravings, nothing can be
more beautiful. After the paper has been exposed to the influence of
sunshine, with the objects to be copied superposed, it is washed over
in the dark with a solution of nitrate of silver of moderate strength.
As soon as this is done, a very vivid positive picture makes its
appearance; and all the fixing these photographic pictures require is,
well washing in pure water.

M. Niepcé de St. Victor finds that, if a sheet of paper on which there
is writing, printed characters, or a drawing, be exposed for a few
minutes to the vapour of iodine, and there be applied immediately
afterwards a coating of starch, moistened by slightly acidulated
water, a faithful tracing of the writing, printing, or drawing, will
be obtained. M. Niepcé has also discovered that a great number of
substances, such as nitric acid, chlorurets of lime and mercury, act
in a similar manner; and that various vapours, particularly those of
ammonia, have the effect of vivifying the images which are obtained by
photography.

In the words of a writer in the _North British Review_:--“While
the artist is thus supplied with every material for his creative
genius, the public will derive a new and immediate advantage from the
productions of the solar pencil. The home-faring man--whom fate or
duty chains to his birth-place, or imprisons in his fatherland--will,
without the fatigues and dangers of travel, scan the beauties and
wonders of the globe; not in the fantastic or deceitful images of a
hurried pencil, but, in the very picture which would have been painted
on his own retina, were he magically transported to the scene. The
gigantic outline of the Himalaya and the Andes will stand self-depicted
upon his borrowed retina--the Niagara will pour out before him, in
panoramic grandeur, her mighty cataract of waters, while the flaming
volcano will toss into the air her clouds of dust and her blazing
fragments. The scene will change, and there will rise before him
Egypt’s colossal pyramids, the temples of Greece and Rome, and the
gilded mosques and towering minarets of eastern magnificence. But
with not less wonder, and with a more eager and affectionate gaze,
will he survey those hallowed scenes which faith has consecrated and
love endeared. Painted in its cheerless tints, Mount Zion will stand
before him, ‘as a field that is ploughed;’ Tyre, as a rock on which
the fishermen dry their nets; Gaza, in her prophetic ‘baldness;’
Lebanon, with her cedars prostrate among ‘the howling firs;’ Nineveh
made as a grave, ‘and seen only in the turf that covers it;’ and
Babylon the great, the golden city, with its impregnable walls, its
hundred gates of brass, now ‘sitting in the dust, cast up as an heap,’
covered with ‘pools of water,’ and without even the ‘Arab’s tent,’ or
the ‘shepherd’s fold.’ But though it is only Palestine in desolation
that a modern sun can delineate, yet the seas which bore on their
breast the Divine Redeemer, and the everlasting hills which bounded
his view, stand unchanged by time and the elements, and, delineated
on the faithful tablet, still appeal to us with an immortal interest.
But the scenes which are thus presented to us by the photographer have
not merely the interest of being truthful representations: they form,
as it were, a record of every visible event that takes place while the
picture is delineating. The dial-plate of the clock tells the hour and
minute when it was drawn, and with the day of the month, which we know,
and the sun’s altitude, which the shadows on the picture often supply,
we may find the very latitude of the place which is represented. All
stationary life stands self-delineated on the photograph:--the wind, if
it blows, will exhibit its disturbing influence; the rain, if it falls,
will glisten on the house-top; the still clouds will exhibit their
ever-changing forms; and even the lightning’s flash will imprint its
fire-streak on the sensitive tablet.”




CHAPTER VII.

  Heat, the cause of many wonders--Its universal diffusion and
    application--Story of a burning-glass--The Augustine friars and
    the Jesuits--Impostures as to the endurance of heat--Burning
    mirrors--The blow-pipe--The Giants’ Causeway--Application of
    currents of heated air--Travelling by steam.


Heat is everywhere present: every body that exists contains it in
quantity to which we can assign no limits. The endless variety of forms
which are spread over and beautify the surface of the globe, are to be
traced to its influence. Without it, the land and the water would fall
into one formless and impenetrable mass, and the air now essential to
life, prove absolutely poisonous. We shall find in connexion with it,
therefore, many extraordinary phenomena.

When Labat the Jesuit visited the Peruvians, he took the naked arm of
one of them, and, concentrating on it the rays of the sun by means of a
powerful lens, soon made him cry out with pain, while the others looked
on with wonder, not unmixed with indignation. How could this effect be
produced? was instantly the question; and, as promptly, the cause was
declared to be infernal. In vain did Labat assert that it was merely
natural. The Peruvians made many attempts to obtain possession of the
lens in order to destroy it, and deliver themselves from the power of
that which they regarded as able to bring upon them the vengeance of
the gods.

Much surprise has sometimes been awakened by an apparent insensibility
to intense heat. An instance of this occurred when a rivalry existed
between the Augustine friars and the Jesuits. The father-general of
the Augustine friars was dining with the Jesuits; and, when the table
was removed, he entered into a formal discourse of the superiority of
the monastic order, and charged the Jesuits with assuming the title of
“_fratres_,” while they held not the three vows which other monks were
obliged to consider sacred and binding. The general of the Augustine
friars was very eloquent and very authoritative--and the superior of
the Jesuits was very unlearned.

The Jesuit avoided entering the lists of controversy with the Augustine
friar, but arrested his triumph by asking him if he would see one of
his friars, who pretended to be nothing more than a Jesuit, and one of
the Augustine friars who religiously performed the three vows, show
instantly which of them would be readier to obey his superior?

The Augustine friar consented. The Jesuit then turning to one of his
brothers, the friar Mark, who was waiting upon them, said, “Brother
Mark, our companions are cold; I command you, in virtue of the holy
obedience you have sworn to me, to bring here, instantly, out of the
kitchen-fire, and in your hands, some burning coals, that they may
warm themselves over your hands.” Father Mark instantly obeyed; and,
to the astonishment of the Augustine friar, brought in his hands a
supply of red burning coals, and held them to whoever chose to warm
himself; and, at the command of his superior, returned them to the
kitchen hearth. The general of the Augustine friars, with the rest of
his brotherhood, stood amazed; he looked wistfully on one of his monks,
as if he wished to command him to do the like. But the Augustine monk,
who perfectly understood him, and saw this was not a time to hesitate,
observed, “Reverend father, forbear, and do not command me to tempt
God: I am ready to fetch you fire in a chaffing-dish, but not in my
bare hands.” The triumph of the Jesuits was complete, and it is not
necessary to add, that “the _miracle_” was noised about, and that the
Augustine friars could never account for it, notwithstanding their
strict performance of the three vows! And yet here was no mystery.
According to sir James Mackintosh, “In the _Mercure de France_, there
is a very curious account of experiments made at Naples to discover the
means by which jugglers have appeared to be incombustible. They seem to
be completely discovered, and chiefly to consist in, first, gradually
habituating the skin, the mouth, throat, and stomach, to great degrees
of heat; second, in rubbing the skin with hard soap, and in covering
the tongue with hard soap, and over that with a layer of powdered
sugar. By these means, the professor at Naples is enabled to walk over
burning coals, to take into his mouth boiling oil, and to wash his
hands in melted lead. The miracles of several saints, the numerous
escapes from the fiery ordeal, and tricks now played by the Hindoo
jugglers, are thus perfectly explained; and all these prodigies may be
performed in a fortnight by any apothecary’s apprentice.”

Other instances of endurance are merely pretended. In country places,
a conjurer sometimes appears in the streets, professing that he is
able to eat fire; and yet he only rolls together a ball of flax or
hemp, lights it, rolls round it some more of the same material, slips
it cunningly into his mouth, and breathes through it to revive the
flame; and so long as he inspires the air through the nostrils, and not
through the mouth, he suffers no injury. A performer, named Richardson,
in the seventeenth century, pretended to pour melted lead upon his
tongue; but it is probable that he used the fusible metal formed of
bismuth, tin, and lead, which melts at a low temperature, and which the
writer has seen fused on a card, and poured into the hand with impunity
by a person accustomed to handle hot substances.

Not many years ago, a man named Chaubert professed to be incombustible;
but it has been proved that the human body is capable of bearing a very
high degree of heat. Men of unquestionable integrity have surpassed
all his wonders. Sir Charles Blagden exposed himself in a heated room
where the heat was one or two degrees above 260°, and remained eight
minutes in this situation. Eggs and a beef-steak were placed on a tin
frame, near the thermometer, and in the space of twenty minutes the
eggs were roasted quite hard, and in forty-seven minutes the steak was
not only dressed, but almost dry. Another beef-steak, similarly placed,
was rather over-done in thirty-three minutes. Chantrey, the celebrated
sculptor, accompanied by five or six friends, also entered a furnace,
and, after remaining two minutes, brought out a thermometer which stood
at 320°. Some pain was experienced in this experiment, but it placed
beyond all doubt that the human body has a remarkable power of enduring
heat. Chaubert excited much wonder by taking phosphorus into his mouth;
but, as that substance, when deprived of air, will not burn, he always
closed his lips, and retired to eject the phosphorus immediately
afterwards.

We turn now from the resistance of heat by chemical means, to some
striking examples of its power.

The name of the Giants’ Causeway arose, probably, from an idea of the
supernatural power, entertained in times of ignorance and superstition.
And yet it is demonstrated that vast masses of rock are to be traced
to causes strictly natural. Basalt is of very frequent occurrence
on the surface of the globe, and is frequently detected in a variety
of volcanoes, both extinct and active. The greatest mass of basalt
hitherto observed is that in the Deccan, which constitutes the
surface of many thousand square miles of that part of India. In other
instances, it occurs in horizontal tabular masses, and is columnar.
Sometimes, the basaltic columns are curved, and of this there is
a beautiful example in the island of Staffa. Now basalt is not a
crystalline substance, for as it is not capable, as all crystals are,
of cleavage in the line of its planes, or at some angle with them, it
is concretional. Its structure resembles an onion, or any bulbous root,
for, in the centre, is a solid mass, about which are others just like
the parts of the vegetable products already mentioned. These portions
of basalt are at first of an oval form, and then they gradually
become rudely hexagonal. Some non-columnar basalts show no trace of
any particular arrangement of parts, while others have a globular
structure, so that when the rock becomes much decomposed, it has the
appearance of numerous bomb-shells and cannon-balls cemented together.

Here, then, we have an extraordinary effect of heat. Mr. Gregory Watt
took seven hundred weight of the substance named rowley rag, kept it in
fusion more than six hours, and cooled it so gradually, that eight days
elapsed before it was taken from the furnace. The shape of the mass was
uneven and while the thinner portion was, in consequence of more rapid
cooling, vitreous, the thicker was stony; the one state passing into
the other. Numerous spheroids were also formed, some being two inches
in diameter. They were radiated with distinct fibres, the latter also
forming concentric coats, when circumstances were favourable to such
an arrangement. When the temperature had been sufficiently continued,
the centres of the spheroids became compacted before they had attained
the diameter of half-an-inch. When two spheroids came into contact, no
penetration ensued; but the two bodies became mutually compressed and
separated by a plane, well defined, and invested with a rusty colour.
When several met, they formed prisms. In reasoning on these facts, Mr.
G. Watt observes: “In a stratum composed of an indefinite number in
superficial extent, but only one in height, of impenetrable spheroids,
if their peripheries should come in contact in the same plane, it seems
obvious that their mutual action would form them into hexagons; and if
these were resisted below, and there was no opposing cause above them,
it seems equally clear that they would extend their dimensions upwards,
and thus form hexagonal prisms, whose length might be indefinitely
greater than their diameters.”

That the great power in operation in the formation of basaltic columns
is heat, appears to be indisputable. There is, for example, a bed of
sandstone in furnaces for smelting metals, and, in the course of time,
it requires to be repaired. Portions, taken out, on such occasions,
have been found to have a columnar appearance: the heat of the furnace
having changed the form of the substance, not by any fusion of its
parts, but by a peculiar arrangement of them, thus giving them the
specified figure.

Another astonishing result of this natural power is seen in the
eruption of a volcano. The eye of a traveller, perhaps, as it is turned
towards Vesuvius, discerns a dark red spot on the mountain’s side,
issuing from an orifice near to the crater. But soon, that deep burning
light apparently spreads out, or flows on into a long wide stream,
descends the entire length of the great cone, and reaches to the plain
below. But, as the first light was seen through and behind the mists
which follow the departure of the sun, so now its extended influence is
only rendered visible by the increasing gloom. But, as the eye is still
attracted towards this remarkable eminence, a pillar of fire is seen
rising up from the crater high into the air; while innumerable lights
appear, like so many natural fire-works rushing upwards, and falling in
a glowing shower, on the outer sides of the crater, which soon present
the aspect of a heap of fire. Large and red-hot stones are flung forth
from time to time, from the same troubled source, to fall, roll down
the sides of the crater, and lose their brightness.

Mountains that are liable to volcanic action, before an eruption takes
place, are generally the most fertile, and the most attractive of all
eminences. Illustrations of this remark are found upon a magnificent
scale in Mexico; and, among the rest, that of Jorullo, in the extensive
intendency of Valladolid, lying on the west coast of America, between
the intendencies of Mexico and Guadalaxara, (pronounced Quadalahàra.)
Mechoacan, a part of it, is an expanse of table-land which enjoys a
fine and temperate climate, and is intersected with hills and charming
valleys, presenting an appearance unusual in the torrid zone, of
extensive and well-watered meadows. On the twenty-ninth of September,
1759, from the centre of a thousand burning cones was thrown up the
volcano of Jorullo; a mountain of scoriæ and ashes, seventeen hundred
feet high, in an extensive plain, and covered with most luxuriant
vegetation. When plains, hills, and valleys, are thus spoken of, the
reader should remember, that all of them are reared upon the lofty
chain of the Andes, for volcanic eruptions only, so far as we know,
take place in mountainous regions.

But some of the most remarkable examples are to be met with in the
Spice Islands, or Moluccas. The pointed and conical mountains, which
characterize this group of islands, exhibit great fertility. Nothing
can surpass the richness of vegetation with which their sides are
covered, nor the balmy healthfulness of the breezes that encircle
round them, to temper the heats of the sultry zone. But the nature of
these mountains is closely connected with volcanic action; so that,
in fearful apprehension, we might look at each one of these beautiful
peaks, as if it were destined one day to be torn from its station and
thrown into the sea.

“I will stretch out mine hand upon thee, and roll thee down from the
rocks, and will make thee a burnt mountain,” was one of the Divine
denunciations against Babylon, Jer. li. 25. Judgment has not thus
fallen on Ternate, one of the most lovely of the cluster just adverted
to; but the top of the highest rock has been torn off, and hurled from
a height of five or six thousand feet, into the sea. A huge gap was
left behind, which seemed to a traveller when standing on the edge,
like a deep valley, or ravine, betwixt two mountains. As the portion
rent away in this tremendous struggle was split into fragments of
various sizes, there is, besides, a vast pile at the water’s edge,
a road, or causeway, strewed with half-vitrified pieces of rock and
cinders, from the margin of the rift to the declivity of the mountain;
so that the island, so lovely under other aspects, presents on this
side a fearful scene of desolation. What a striking comment on the
words, “I will make thee a burnt mountain;”--I will tear off thy
summit, shiver it into ten thousand pieces, and therewith overwhelm and
destroy the natural verdure of thy sides, which once looked so goodly
and so fair! Some time in March, 1839, another eruption took place
at Ternate; so that, long before these ejected matters could yield
to the decomposing action of the atmosphere, and afford a soil for
vegetable growth, another layer, of equally forlorn and broken kind,
was scattered over them.

In connexion with these astounding phenomena, it may be remarked that
an apparatus has recently been contrived called the fire-annihilator,
the origin of which is not a little curious. It is said that the
inventor observed that the smoke hovering over a burning mountain
diminished its fury, and that, on analysing it and combining similar
elements, he discovered the means of extinguishing fires, and thus
of arresting at the outset what might otherwise prove a tremendous
calamity.

Many processes of art, like the operations of nature, are dependent
on heat. By this agent, the most obdurate masses soften like wax, and
yield to the forms which are demanded by our wants and our tastes; and
compounds, knit together by stubborn affinities, are resolved by it
into their original elements. The baron Von Tchivanhausen constructed
a burning mirror in 1687, five feet three inches in breadth, and
reflecting the solar rays with extraordinary power. When exposed to
its force, wood took fire, and continued to burn, notwithstanding
a most violent wind; and water, contained in an earthen vessel,
quickly boiled, so that eggs were cooked, and the liquid soon after
evaporated. Copper and silver were fused in a few minutes, and slate
was transformed into a kind of black glass, which, when held by a pair
of pincers, could be drawn out into filaments. This mirror afterwards
came into the possession of the king of France, and was kept in the
Jardins du Roi. Other mirrors have been formed of different substances.
At the Polytechnic Institution, some years ago, there were two metallic
discs placed at the extreme ends of the great hall, and when a vessel
of burning coals was held in the focus of one, and a piece of meat in
the focus of the other, the latter was cooked with marvellous rapidity
by a simple and apparently an unimportant instrument.

The blow-pipe has immense power. Two volumes of hydrogen, and one
of oxygen gas, when pure, form a mixture which produces in this
instrument intense heat, and most substances may be fused by the flame.
In the experiments of Dr. E. Clarke, lime, strontion, and alumine,
yielded to its powers. The alkalis were fused and volatilized almost
the instant they came into contact with the flame: and rock crystal
became a transparent glass full of bubbles. Opal changed into a pearly
white enamel, and flint into one that was frothy. Blue sapphire was
melted; and Peruvian enamel changed into a transparent and colourless
glass. Lapis lazuli fused into transparent glass, with a slight tinge
of green. Iceland spar, next in difficulty, as to fusion, to its
native magnesia, melted at last into a limpid glass, giving out an
amethyst-coloured flame. Diamond first became opaque, and was then
gradually volatilized. Gold, mixed with borax as a flux, was fused;
platina wire melted the instant it was brought into contact with the
flame, and ran down in drops; brass wire burned with a green flame; and
iron wire with brilliant sparks.

At a recent meeting of the British Association, Dr. Faraday exhibited
some diamonds, which he had received from M. Dumas, which had, by the
action of intense heat, been converted into coke. In one case, the
heat of the flame of oxide of carbon and oxygen had been used; in
another, the oxyhydrogen flame; and, in the third, the galvanic arc of
flame from a Bunsen battery of one hundred pairs. In the last case,
the diamond was perfectly converted into a piece of coke; and, in the
others, the fusion and carbonaceous formation were evident. Specimens
in which the character of graphite was taken by the diamond were also
shown. The electrical characters of these diamonds were stated also
to have been changed, the diamond being an insulator, while coke is a
conductor.

A rope, nearly three miles long, was recently lying on the verge of
the borough of Gateshead, which was shortly before a stone in the
bowels of the earth. Smelted, the stone yielded iron. The iron was
converted into wire. The wire was brought to the wire-rope manufactory
of Messrs. R. S. Newall and Co., at the Teams, near Gateshead, and
there twisted into a line 4,660 yards long. It was supposed to be the
stoutest rope of the kind that was ever made. It weighs twenty tons,
five hundredweights, and cost the purchasers upwards of £1,134. It was
intended for the incline on the Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway, near the
latter city. A rope of hemp of equal strength would weigh thirty-three
tons and-a-half, and cost about three hundred pounds more. It would
also entail greater expense while in operation, (owing to its greater
weight,) and would sooner wear out.

“The process,” says the _Pharmaceutical Journal_, “for purifying and
agglomerating caoutchouc, preparatory to its being cut into sheets,
and also for effecting the latter operation, are due to the ingenuity
of M. Sievier. The general principle is this:--Pieces of caoutchouc,
mixed, as they are in their native state, with various impurities,
are put into a strong metallic drum, through which passes an axle,
studded with chisel-shaped teeth. The interior of the drum is supplied
with similar ones, but stationary. Therefore, when the axle is made to
revolve, the caoutchouc becomes subjected to a most powerful rending
and kneading motion, in the course of which sufficient heat is evolved,
notwithstanding a current of cold water continually passes through the
drum, to agglutinate the material into a compact mass. This mass is
now subjected to the pressure of a powerful screw apparatus, and made
to assume the form of a cuboid, from which sheets of caoutchouc may be
eventually cut by the rapid vibratory action of a knife, kept moistened
with water. As solvents for caoutchouc, equal parts of coal naptha and
turpentine are commonly used; and, of late, the bisulphuret of carbon
has been much employed.”

Mr. J. Wishaw has lately shown the advantages arising from the
application of currents of heated air to the following purposes:
seasoning timber, generally; preserving timber, purifying feathers,
blankets, clothing, etc.; drying coffee, roasting coffee, japanning
leather for table-covers, and other purposes; drying silks, drying
yarn, drying distillers’ tuns, drying papier-máché, and drying
vulcanized india-rubber. The process has also been successfully tested
for drying loaf-sugar, drying printing-paper, or setting the ink, to
enable books to be bound more quickly than usual; drying starch, and
converting it into dextine, or British gum; and preserving meat. It has
been also stated, that sixty suits of clothes, which had belonged to
persons who had died of the plague in Syria, had been subject to the
process of purification, at a temperature of about 240°, and afterwards
worn by sixty persons; not one of whom ever gave the slightest symptom
of being affected by the malady. In describing these processes, the
writer referred to the mode adopted by the North American Indians for
preserving the meat of the buffalo--that of drying it in the sun;
and stated that heated currents had been applied successfully. The
discovery seems highly important for shipping; as, instead of sailors
consuming salted provisions from one month’s end to another, they might
thus have an occasional supply of fresh meat. Meat treated in this way
occupies much less space, too, and is much lighter in weight. It is
believed that the juices of the meat contain about seven-eighths of
watery moisture: this, the current of heated air removes, leaving the
albumen and all the flavour and nutrition behind.

That in the production of steam heat is of incalculable value, there
needs no proof. We derive special advantage from it, in the results
of that machinery which astonish us by their magnitude, as well as by
their elegance. Steam wafts us, in a few hours, from one extremity of
the land to the other, and renders America, once called the New World,
accessible in a few days.

Another instance of its application, often overlooked, is thus
stated in the _Quarterly Review_:--“That extraordinary line of steam
communication between England and her eastern possessions, (somewhat
oddly called the _overland_ journey,) of which Australia and New
Zealand will hereafter form the extreme branches. The creation of the
last twelve years, this communication has already acquired a sort of
maturity of speed and exactness, notwithstanding the enormous distances
traversed, and the changes necessary in transit from sea to sea. The
Anglo-Indian mail in its two sections, and including passengers and
correspondence, possesses a sort of individuality as the greatest
and most singular line of intercourse on the globe. Two of the first
nations of Europe, France and Austria, struggle for the privilege of
carrying this mail across their territories. Traversing the length
of the Mediterranean, it is received on the waters of the ancient
Nile--Cairo and the Pyramids are passed in its onward course--the
desert is traversed with a speed which mocks the old cavalcades of
camels and loitering Arabs--it is re-embarked on the Red Sea, near a
spot sacred in scriptural history--the promontory projecting from the
heights of Mount Sinai, the shores of Mecca and Medina are passed in
its rapid course down this great gulf--it emerges through the straits
of Babelmandel into the Indian seas--to be distributed thence by
different lines to all the great centres of Indian government and
commerce, as well as to our more remote dependencies in the straits of
Malacca and the Chinese seas. There is a certain majesty in the simple
outline of a route like this, traversing the most ancient seats of
empire, and what we are taught to regard as among the earliest abodes
of man--and now ministering to the connexion of England with that great
sovereignty she has conquered, or created, in the east; more wonderful,
with one exception, than any of the empires of antiquity; and,
perchance, also, more important to the general destinies of mankind.”




CHAPTER VIII.

  The magic swan--Properties of the magnet--The mariners’
    compass--The process of magnetizing--The dip of the
    needle--Magnetic properties in various substances.


A magician of former days had a figure of a swan, which floated on a
vessel of water, round the rim of which were placed the twenty-four
letters of the alphabet. Addressing the spectators, he was accustomed
to ask for a name to be given him, and it was correctly spelt by the
swan, as it moved from one letter to another till it had indicated
the whole. A little philosophy, in this instance, produced repeatedly
great astonishment. A magnetic bar was placed in the swan, and the
performer had a powerful magnet concealed in his own dress, and the
swan, of course, followed his motions. Thus, if he wanted the swan to
spell “Selina,” he moved first to S, then to E, and so on, through
the successive letters of that name, till the word was spelt. On one
occasion, however, the performer was not a little disconcerted--the
swan stopped in its course and refused to move. Again and again the
effort was made, but it was utterly in vain; the magician could only
acknowledge that some person was in the room aware of his secret, and
counteracting his movements. Sir Francis Blake Delaval avowed himself
to be the person: he produced a magnet which he had used on facing the
performer as he stood at the table; the swan was, therefore, placed
between two attractive instruments, and, of course, remained immovable.

A magnet may be described as a piece of iron, which possesses the
property of turning towards the poles of the earth. This extraordinary
quality does not necessarily belong to all specimens of iron in its
native state, but only to one kind or variety called the oxide, on
account of its union with oxygen in a particular condition. The
possession of a special quality in this ore of iron was not discovered
from its polarity, or power of turning to the poles of the earth, but
from its property of attracting small pieces of iron, which are not
magnetic; and hence it was called the loadstone.

There are many uses to which the magnet has been applied, and there
is a probability of its being much more extensively employed; but its
most important application is in the construction of the mariners’
compass, which renders it possible freely to traverse the ocean. There
has been some controversy as to the discovery of the directive power
of the magnet, and the invention of the compass. It was once supposed
to have been unknown until about the thirteenth century, but it is
now generally acknowledged that the Chinese were acquainted with the
compass at least eleven hundred and fourteen years before the birth
of Christ. At the commencement of the thirteenth century, it was
certainly in use in Europe; for cardinal de Vitty mentions it with some
particularity, in a work entitled “The History of the East,” where he
says, “The iron needle, after contact with the loadstone, constantly
turns to the north star, which, as the axis of the firmament, remains
immovable, while the others revolve; and hence it is essentially
necessary to those navigating on the ocean.” This shows that the
compass was not invented in Europe, as commonly believed, by Gioia,
a pilot, and a native of Pasitano, a small village, situated near
Amalfi, who lived about the end of the thirteenth century, but, by
him, it appears to have been made fully available for the purposes of
navigation.

As used by sailors in the Mediterranean at that period, it was a very
uncertain guide; for the compass then consisted of a magnetic needle
attached to two straws on a piece of cork, floating on water in a
basin, or glass vase. Gioia, therefore, placed the magnetic needle
upon a pivot, so that it was free to move in any direction, and thus
prevented that inconvenience and inaccuracy of observation which must
have resulted from the motion of the needle floating on water, agitated
by the tossing of the vessel. The magnetic needle was afterwards
attached to a card divided into thirty-two points, called the _rose
des vents_, so that the direction in which a vessel was sailing
could be minutely determined, and the means of ascertaining it was no
longer dependent on the accuracy of the eye in measuring distances.
The mariners’ compass is still constructed in the same manner, but
is inclosed in a box with a glass cover, and is thus preserved from
the influence of the wind. Another improvement has been made in so
suspending the box that, however the vessel may be pitched by the
waves, and rolled from side to side, the needle remains in a horizontal
position, and gives accurate indications of the direction in which the
vessel is sailing.

In addition to the properties already mentioned, the loadstone has the
power of communicating its virtues to any piece of hard iron or steel,
and that, without diminution of strength; so that, if but one piece
had been discovered, it would have been sufficient for the production
of all the magnets that have ever been formed by man. Other means may
be adopted of accomplishing this purpose. Take a bar of iron, and,
striking it several times with a hammer, it will become magnetic. This
experiment may be performed with a common poker. The magnetism thus
communicated to a steel bar will be much increased in power, if it be
supported on another bar during the process of hammering.

Gay Lussac, a French chemist of great celebrity, discovered a method
of making magnets by a process so simple, that it may, in all cases,
be applied successfully. Take a piece of thin iron wire and suspend
it in a vertical position. The earth itself being a magnet, induces a
magnetic power in the wire. To render this permanent, twist the wire
till it breaks, and a magnet will be obtained.

Mrs. Somerville, well known for her excellent philosophical works,
made some experiments on the effect of solar light in the production
of permanent magnetism. If half of a small sewing needle be covered
with paper, and the exposed part be placed in the violet or indigo ray,
magnetism will be induced, and the same effect will be produced in a
smaller degree by the blue and green.

To describe but one more mode; magnets are readily made by what is
called the single touch, and this is perhaps the most simple and most
effective way of proceeding. Place the steel bar to be magnetized on
a table, or any other convenient place, and, as nearly as possible,
north and south, which position is called by philosophers, the magnetic
meridian. This being done, draw over it perpendicularly a strong
magnet. In this operation, it is necessary to begin at one end of the
bar, and draw the magnet over its entire length, and then again in the
same direction. It must not be drawn backward and forward, for the
power communicated in one direction, would be destroyed by an opposite
motion.

The following experiments are very instructive:--Suspend a magnetic
needle by a silk cord, so that it will hang in a horizontal position.
Then bring it over the centre of a large magnet lying upon a table,
and it will still retain its position; but, as it is brought near to
either end, it will be bent downwards, and, at the extremities, will
be vertical. This experiment illustrates what is called the dip of
the magnet. On the equator of the earth, the needle is horizontal,
or nearly so, but as it is brought near the poles it dips, and over
either magnetic pole would be vertical. The reason of this is evident
from the former experiment: at the equator, each pole of the needle is
attracted in an equal degree by the north and south poles of the earth;
but, if we proceed northward, the north pole of the magnet will be more
attracted than the south, and point towards it until at last it becomes
vertical. The poles of the earth’s rotation, that is, the points which
would form the terminations of its axis, did it revolve on one, are
not the magnetic poles; nor is the equator of the earth the magnetic
equator. They do not, however, greatly vary.

Take, also, a bar magnet, and, placing it upon a table, cover it with a
sheet of writing-paper. Then sprinkle upon it some fine iron filings,
and they will arrange themselves in very beautiful curves round the
magnet, showing, as it is supposed, the circulation of the magnetic
fluid. From this experiment, we learn that the magnetic power is
greatest at the poles; and this is true in reference to the magnetism
of the earth, which increases in power from the magnetic equator to
the magnetic poles of the earth, as determined by a great variety
of interesting and delicate experiments. Sir Graves C. Haughton has
communicated a paper to the June number of Brewster’s _Philosophical
Magazine_, entitled “Experiments proving the common nature of
Magnetism, Cohesion, Adhesion, and Viscosity.”

This paper contains two separate sets of experiments, the first of
which relates to the attraction the magnetic needle has for various
mineral, vegetable, and animal substances: and it is not a little
remarkable that antimony and bismuth, as well as copper, tin, and
cadmium, are, in these experiments, shown to have attractive powers
for the magnetic needle; though, in those made by Dr. Faraday, he has
ranged them amongst the class of dia-magnetics, that is, of those that
exhibited repulsion. Arsenic, too, which he found so intractable,
was made, in the present experiments, to assume the real magnetic
character, that is to say, the power of attracting and repelling, by
being kept for a short time in contact with a bar magnet. Iodine,
likewise, was found, on bringing it near the needle, to be able to
attract it.

In most of these experiments, the needle was made to attach itself to
the substances by being forced towards them by a magnet, which was
gently withdrawn after contact was so effected. In this way, and by a
reference to the degrees of the compass traversed by the needle, a hair
of the head, or a spark of diamond, can be accurately measured. The
strength of the needle in its movement on a pivot was ascertained by
azimuths, of which a detailed account is given.

The remainder of the memoir, which is contained in a supplementary
number of the Magazine, is devoted to a detail of about five hundred
experiments, in which non-ferruginous needles were made, by a
modification of the magnetic needle, of which they formed a portion,
to attach themselves to the same substances as in the preceding
experiments. Thus, for instance, needles of most of the remarkable
metals, as well as of glass, were found to have a strong affinity
for nearly every kind of substance, whether mineral, vegetable, or
animal, if its density was greater than that of cork or charcoal.
Brass surpassed all the metals in its power of attraction, and, what
is most remarkable, the magnetic needle was the lowest of all in the
scale, showing not much more than one-third of the attractive energy
of soft iron. Every substance of a crystalline or vitreous character
exhibited remarkable magnetic properties, and this could not be
mistaken, as it might be heightened at pleasure by contact with either
pole of a powerful magnet. Towards the close of the experiments, the
curious discovery was made, that needles of ivory, mother-of-pearl,
tortoise-shell, horn, etc., were singularly magnetic, and this is
traced to the albumen and gelatine they contained; and the inference
is drawn, from this and other facts, that the cohesive, adhesive, and
viscous properties of bodies are owing to real magnetic qualities,
and that, by drying, albuminous, gelatinous, and glutinous fluids
constitute various kinds of glass, which view is supported by what
takes place with the gelatinous hydrate of silicium.

“The preceding experiments,” says the writer, “include a vast variety
of substances in the mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms, that
exhibit such strong attractive affinities for one another, that,
however much they may differ in their external appearances, and in
their very natures, they are bound together by common bonds that
connect them all into a single family; for we find the metal attaching
itself to crystalline, animal, and vegetable substances; and, again,
the crystal, whether we call it by the name of diamond, salt, or
sugar-candy, connecting itself readily to metallic, animal, and
vegetable bodies. In a similar way, animal bodies attach themselves to
those that are mineral and vegetable; and, to complete the circle, the
vegetable kingdom, by its woods, its gums, its lac, and its resins, is
connected with them all.”




CHAPTER IX.

  The electrical kite--Candles magically lighted--St. Elmo’s
    fire--The chronoscope--The electric clock--The electric
    telegraph--Sub-marine telegraphs--The overruling providence of
    God.


In the auto-biographical memoirs of sir John Barrow, lately published,
he says, when describing some of the employments of his youth: “I had
fallen in with an account of Benjamin Franklin’s electrical kite, and a
kite being a very common object with school-boys, and a string steeped
in salt-water with a glass-handle to it not difficult to be had, I
speedily flew my kite, and obtained abundance of sparks (like those
obtained from an electrical machine). An old woman, curious to see
what I was about, was too tempting an opportunity to not to give her a
shock, which so frightened her, that she spread abroad in the village
that I was no better than I should be, for that I was drawing down fire
from heaven. The alarm ran through the village, and my poor mother
entreated me to lay aside my kite.”

It was recently announced by a professor of magic, that several hundred
candles would be lighted by one pistol shot. Accordingly, the stage
appeared in partial darkness, but, through the gloom, ranges of candles
might be indistinctly perceived at different heights from the floor;
and, in a minute or two, the performer was seen to enter and discharge
a pistol, when all the candles were instantly ignited, and the array
of magical instruments appeared strongly illuminated, ready to be
employed in the subsequent exploits--an effect always followed by
enthusiastic acclamations. And yet there is no difficulty in explaining
this prodigy. Candles, carefully prepared to ignite readily, might have
above them an arrangement of wires, with the point of a wire just over
each wick, and the whole being connected with an electrical battery,
they could be ignited instantly, at a moment’s notice. The instant of
the performer’s entering, might be the signal for the discharge of the
battery by others, and the report of the pistol would prevent any sound
being heard on the removal of the wires, which the previous darkness
had effectually concealed.

Lord Napier says, that when he was in the Mediterranean, some years
ago, and during an awful thunderstorm, he was retiring to rest, when
he heard suddenly a cry, from those aloft, of “St. Elmo and St. Anne!”
which induced him again to go on deck. On observing the appearance of
the masts, the maintop-gallant-mast-head was completely enveloped in
a blaze of pale phosphoric light; the other mast-heads presented a
similar appearance; the flame preserving its intensity for eight or
ten minutes, and then gradually becoming fainter. Yet this appearance,
which superstition declared to be miraculous, was only electrical; for,
while the solar heat is converting into vapour the water and moisture
of the earth, electricity is freely disengaged. “The clouds which
this power forms are in different electrical conditions, though the
electricity of the atmosphere, when serene, is invariably the same.
Hence the descent of clouds towards the earth, their mutual approach,
the force of atmospherical currents, and the ever-varying agencies of
heat and cold convert the aërial envelope of the globe into a complete
electrical apparatus; spontaneously exhibiting, in a variety of forms,
the play of the conflict of its antagonist powers. At the close of
a sultry day, and above level plains, the opposite electricities of
the earth and the air effect their re-union in noiseless flashes of
lightning, illuminating, as it were, in far-spread sheets, the whole
circuit of the horizon, and the entire canopy of the clouds. At other
times, the same elements light up the arctic constellations with their
restless wildfires--now diffusing their phosphoric flame, and flitting
around in fitful gleams, and now shooting up their auroral columns,
advancing, retreating, and contending, as if in mimicry of mortal
strife.”[I]

That electricity and magnetism are identical, is evident from many
experiments. If a sewing-needle be placed in a wire, twisted in that
form called a helix, and a shock of electricity be then passed through
it, from a Leyden jar, the needle will be magnetized. The form of the
wire, and the manner of placing the needle, are shown in the figure.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

Again, if M be a piece of soft iron, of a horse-shoe shape, and
surrounded with copper-wire covered with a non-conducting substance, it
will become powerfully magnetic on connecting the ends of the wire with
a galvanic battery. If this be only of a moderate size, and a keeper,
I, be attached to M, it will suspend W, representing a very heavy
weight.

Mr. Barlow has so arranged a globe, as to identify the dip of the
needle with electricity, a current of which appears to be always
passing round the earth. At G, in the opposite diagram, is a globe
having a wire covered with silk, coiled entirely over it, from one
pole, round and round to the other. The ends of this wire dip into two
cups, P and N, connected with the poles of a galvanic battery. When the
current passes from this, the small and delicately balanced magnets,
_m_, will show polarity, and dip, just the same as in the earth itself.

[Illustration]

Mr. Bain’s electric clock is a remarkable contrivance. Nothing can be
more satisfactory or complete. Allowing for wear and tear of materials
from friction, and the oxidating influence of the atmosphere, the
perpetual motion appears to be realized. As long as the electricity
of the earth continues, or, in other words, as long as the laws of
nature last, so long will Mr. Bain’s clock continue its oscillations,
and register the transit of time. The pendulum conducts, and is the
treasury of that power, and two simple wheels and their attachments,
with the dead escapement, complete the machine. By an ingenious
provision, Mr. Bain’s electric clock at the manufactory extinguishes
the gas-light which illuminates its dial, at half-past twelve precisely.

Mr. Bain has invented and patented another kind of electric clock,
the clock being in Glasgow, and the pendulum in Edinburgh. By means
of the electric telegraph along the railway, constructed by Mr. Bain,
he intimated his wish that the pendulum at the other end of the line
should be put in motion. The clock was placed in the station-house
in Glasgow, the pendulum belonging to it in the station-house at
Edinburgh, the two being forty-six miles apart. They were joined by
means of the wire of the telegraph, in such a manner as that, by a
current of electricity, the machinery of the clock in Glasgow was
made to move correctly, according to the vibrations of the electrical
pendulum in Edinburgh. Thus, in like manner, were England and Scotland
united in one great chronometrical alliance, a single electrical
pendulum of this description, placed in the Observatory at Greenwich,
would give the astronomical time correctly throughout the country.

[Illustration]

The electric telegraph may be said to have originated in a trivial
incident. It occurred to professor Oersted, of Copenhagen, to try the
effect of a galvanic current on the needle of the compass. He found it,
on making the experiment, deflected, that is, turned aside from its
usual bearing of due north and south. Professor Wheatstone applied this
result very ingeniously. He arranged a series of needles, mounted like
that of the compass, and found that he could turn any of these aside by
galvanic currents, while the others remained at rest. It was evident,
therefore, that if each needle were supposed to denote a letter, any
letters might thus be indicated; and, consequently, if an arrangement
of needles standing for so many letters, respectively, were placed
at the distance of fifty or a hundred miles, and any of them were
acted on by means of wires traversing the distance, a message could be
despatched at one end of the line, and read off at the other from the
deflected needles, by any person duly acquainted with the arrangement.
A similar set of needles at the opposite end, would enable him, as
certainly, to transmit a reply.

The engraving represents the front of the telegraph, exhibiting the
index, as it is denominated. The wires, which are suspended through
the length of the line, are attached at either end to the telegraphic
instruments, a branch wire being fastened to a large metallic surface,
imbedded in the earth for completing the electric current. When at
rest, the handles are down, and the pointers remain in their vertical
position. The signals are given by two magnetic needles, or pointers,
each suspended vertically on an axis passing through the dial, and,
behind, another pointer is fixed on each corresponding axis. A portion
of the conducting wire, many yards in length, is coiled round the
galvanometer frame, in which the magnet moves, so as to subject the
magnet to the multiplied deflecting force of the electric current.

[Illustration]

The battery is the motive power of the machine, occupying the same
relative position to it, as the boiler does to the locomotive; for,
though it does not produce any immediate result on the works, yet the
part it performs in the undertaking is essential. While travelling,
Mr. Cooke found great inconvenience to result from the spilling of the
acid solution used in Smee’s batteries; and, from this, he was led to
consider if the substitution of fine white Shanklin sand, saturated
with the diluted acid, would not avoid this difficulty. Experiments
having confirmed the truth of his conjecture, the change was
permanently arranged, and it was subsequently found so advantageous,
that the same method was tried in the permanent batteries, and, in like
manner, the result has proved satisfactory. At present, the generator
resembles, in its principal features, the one known as Wollaston’s
trough; and it is so arranged, that the series of plates of copper and
amalgamated zinc, arranged for the evolution of the electric fluid,
admit of being placed in a corresponding series of cells, filled with
well-washed and dry sand. The _United Service Gazette_ states, that
all that is necessary in order to use the instrument is, slightly to
moisten the sand with diluted sulphuric acid.

The conducting wires are, at their ends, of less diameter, and are so
arranged as to form the coiled magnets. Those in the diagram are seen
in connexion with the works; the electric current, taking the course
indicated by the arrows, occasions the deflection of the needle.

The following engraving represents the interior of the machine, and
shows the means by which the magnet is connected with the electric
current. The parts lettered _a_ are the key-shafts, which, on being
turned to the right or left by a handle, pushes one of the springs,
_c_, from its point of contact, _d_, and, by changing the course of the
electric current, produces a corresponding change in the position of
the needle.

[Illustration]

In making a communication to the person stationed at the point where
he wishes the information to be received, the operator, by turning
the handle to the right or left, breaks the electric current; then,
pressing the wire against pins connected with the battery-poles,
the coils of wire receive their full deflective force, and attract
the magnetic needles to either side, according to the course of the
current. Thus, if the stream of electricity passes into the coil on
the right, the upper part of the needle will be attracted towards it;
if the stream passes into the coil on the left, then the needle will,
in like manner, be attracted to it; thus, giving the whole motion
necessary to the pointers. The time which elapses between the moving
of the handles and the effect on the pointers, is imperceptible,
though we must believe that it really follows it. The dial is divided
into five circles, each containing a number of letters, or signs. The
left-hand needle moving to the left twice, gives _a_; three times, _b_;
once to the right and once to the left, _c_; once to the left and once
to the right, _d_; once to the right, _e_; twice, _f_; three times,
_g_. The order is then taken up by the right-hand needle moving once
to the left for _h_; twice for _i_; three times for _k_; once to the
right and once to the left for _l_; once to the left, and once to the
right, for _m_; once to the right for _n_; twice for _o_; and three
times for _p_. The remaining signs are made by two needles working
conjointly, so that the simultaneous movement of the _two_, once to the
left, indicates _r_; twice for _s_; three times for _t_; once to the
right, and once to the left, for _u_; once to the right for _w_; twice
for _x_; and three times for _y_. At the end of every word given, the
left-hand needle, moving once to the right, to the cross, indicates
that the word is completed. If the receiver understands the word, he
signifies it by moving the same pointer twice to the left, and twice to
the right, which means _yes_; if the communication is not understood,
then the needle points twice to the right, and twice to the left,
which indicates _no_. The original word is then repeated; if figures
are wanted, the motions for each letter are doubled. Previously to
giving a signal, the attention of the operator is called by the ringing
of a bell, which is accomplished by an apparatus as simple as it is
ingenious.[J]

That communications by this means may often be of great importance,
is evident, from many newspaper paragraphs. The following appeared
in the early part of 1847: “On Friday evening the following message
was received at the Chesterfield station: ‘Tell Derby, a Mr. H. has
escaped from the York Asylum, and is supposed to have fire-arms about
his person. Search all the trains from York. He is tall, has a crooked
nose, and has a green coat with pockets at the side. Tell the police to
look out.’ To this message another succeeded from Leeds: ‘He is caught
at Leeds; they have him quite secure.’”

An establishment has lately been opened near the Bank of England, in
which telegraphic intelligence may be despatched, or received, in all
the principal towns of our country. The difficulties which have existed
in reference to sub-marine telegraphs appear to have been overcome;
for the time occupied from the commencement of carrying the telegraph
across Portsmouth harbour, and transmitting signals, does not occupy
a quarter-of-an-hour. The telegraph, which has the appearance of an
ordinary rope, is coiled into one of the dockyard boats, one end of
it being made fast on shore; and, as the boat is pulled across, the
telegraphic rope is gradually paid out over the stern, its superior
gravity causing it to sink to the bottom immediately. The telegraph
consists of but this line; and, unlike those along the various
railways, requires no return wires to perfect the circuit. The electric
fluid is transmitted from the batteries in the dockyard, through the
submersed insulated wire to the opposite shore; the fluid returning to
the negative pole through the water without the aid of any metallic
conductor, except a short piece of wire thrown over the dockyard
parapet into the water, and connecting it with the batteries. The
fact of the water acting as a ready return conductor, is established
beyond question. In 1842, Mr. Snow Harris, when proving the efficiency
of his lightning-conductors in his experiments from this dockyard
to the Orestes, exemplified that water would serve to complete the
electric circuit. On that occasion, the distance traversed by the
return current through the water was but trifling compared with the
space accomplished in the present instance. The batteries used are
Smee’s; and a very delicate and accurate galvanic detector, invented by
Mr. Hay, the chemical lecturer of the dockyard, has also been brought
into requisition. Independent of the simplicity of this sub-marine
telegraph, it has an advantage which even the telegraphs on land do not
possess--in the event of accident, it can be replaced in ten minutes.

At the last meeting of the British Association, the chairman, sir R.
H. Inglis, thus adverted to the progress of the electric telegraph,
from a report presented to the Legislative Council and Assembly of New
Brunswick, relative to a project for constructing a railway, and with
it a line of electro-magnetic telegraph, from Halifax to Quebec:--

“The system is daily extending. It was, however, in the United States
of America that it was first adopted on a great scale, by professor
Morse, in 1844; and it is there that it is now already developed most
extensively. Lines for above thirteen hundred miles are in action, and
connect those states with Her Majesty’s Canadian provinces; and it is
in a course of development so rapid that, in the words of the report
of Mr. Wilkinson to my distinguished friend, his excellency sir W. E.
Colebrook, the governor of New Brunswick, ‘no schedule of telegraphic
lines can now be relied upon for a month in succession, as hundreds
of miles may be added in that space of time. So easy an attainment
does such a result appear to be, and so lively is the interest felt
in its accomplishment, that it is scarcely doubtful that the whole
of the populous parts of the United States will, within two or three
years, be covered with a net-work, like a spider’s web, suspending its
principal threads upon important points, along the sea-board of the
Atlantic on one side, and upon similar points along the lake frontier
on the other.’ I am indebted to the same report for another fact,
which I think the association will regard with equal interest:--‘The
confidence in the efficiency of telegraphic communication has now
become so established, that the most important commercial transactions
daily transpire, by its means, between correspondents several
hundred miles apart. Ocular evidence of this was afforded me by a
communication a few minutes old between a merchant in Toronto, and his
correspondent in New York, distant about six hundred and thirty-two
miles.’ I am anxious to call your attention to the advantages which
other classes also may experience from this mode of communication,
as I find it in the same report:--‘When the Hibernia steamer arrived
in Boston, in January, 1847, with the news of the scarcity in Great
Britain, Ireland, and other parts of Europe, and with heavy orders for
agricultural produce, the farmers in the interior of the states of New
York, informed of the state of things by the magnetic telegraph, were
thronging the streets of Albany with innumerable team-loads of grain,
almost as quickly after the arrival of the steamer at Boston, as the
news of that arrival could ordinarily have reached them. I may add
that, irrespectively of all its advantages to the general community,
the system appears to give already a fair return of interest to the
individuals or companies who have invested their capital in its
application.’”

Professor Morse states, as the result of improvements in this
telegraph, the president’s message, entire, on the subject of the war
with Mexico, was transmitted with perfect accuracy at the rate of
ninety-nine letters per minute. His skilful operators in Washington
and Baltimore printed these characters at the rate of ninety-eight,
one hundred-and-one, one hundred-and-eleven, and one of them actually
printed one hundred-and-seventeen per minute. He must be an expert
penman who can write legibly more than one hundred letters per minute;
consequently, this mode of communication equals, or nearly equals, the
most expeditious mode of recording thought!

Here, then, we close our series of illustrations of what is popularly
termed “Natural Magic,” but, strictly speaking, of natural laws; having
glanced at the arrangements of mechanical skill, terrestrial phenomena,
chemical wonders, and the effects of light, heat, and electricity.

In doing so, we are reminded of the words of the psalmist:--“Thy
faithfulness is unto all generations: thou hast established the earth,
and it abideth. They continue this day according to thine ordinances:
for all are thy servants,” Psa. cxix. 90, 91.

The constancy of nature, thus so clearly indicated, is illustrated by
ordinary experience. The child who flies his kite in the air, or places
his little ship on the surface of the stream, or gathers together the
dry leaves to make a blaze, yea, even by the food that he eats, and
by his movements in his daily walks, proves that nature has laws, and
that in them there is continuance. In after-life, the fact is still
more obvious. Every day and every night bear their explicit testimony
to it. Water finds its way to the ocean by a thousand channels; it is
raised to the higher regions of the atmosphere to be dispersed in light
and fleecy clouds over the four quarters of the globe; and, at length,
accomplishes its circuit, by falling in showers on the dry and thirsty
ground.

“It needs, however,” says Chalmers, “the aid of philosophy to learn
how unvarying nature is in all her processes--how even her seeming
anomalies can be traced to a law that is inflexible--for what might
appear at first to be the caprices of her waywardness, are, in fact,
the evolutions of a mechanism that never changes--and that, the more
thoroughly she is sifted and put to the test by the interrogations of
the curious, the more certainly will they find that she walks by a rule
which knows no abatement; and perseveres with obedient foot-step in
that even course, from which the eye of strictest scrutiny has never
yet detected one hair’s-breadth of deviation. It is no longer doubted
by men of science, that every remaining semblance of irregularity
in the universe is due, not to the fickleness of nature, but to the
ignorance of man--that her most hidden movements are conducted with
a uniformity as rigorous as fate--that even the fitful agitations of
the weather have their law and principle--that the intensity of every
breeze, and the number of drops in every shower, and the formation of
every cloud, and all the occurring alternations of storm and sunshine,
and the endless shiftings of temperature, and those tremulous varieties
of the air which our instruments have enabled us to discover, but have
not enabled us to explain--that still, they follow each other by a
method of succession, which, though greatly more intricate, is yet as
absolute in itself as the order of the seasons, or the mathematical
courses of astronomy. This is the impression of every philosophical
mind with regard to nature, and it is strengthened by each new
accession that is made to science. The more we are acquainted with her,
the more are we led to recognise her constancy, and to view her as a
mighty, though complicated machine, all whose results are sure, and all
whose workings are invariable!”

Who is not filled with amazement in contemplating the power of the
Almighty? Only let it be his will to set one of his agents loose, and
the earth and all that it contains shall be burned up. Well may we
tremble at the thought of that “wrath which is revealed from heaven
against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men!” On those who
believe not, the curse of Jehovah abides. Would that men considered
how fearful a thing it is to fall into the hands of the living God!
Convinced by the Holy Spirit of their guilt and danger, they would then
fly to the only hope set before them in the gospel.

   “In vain we seek for peace with God
      By methods of our own:
    Jesus, there’s nothing but thy blood
      Can bring us near the throne.

    The threatening of thy broken law
      Impress our souls with dread;
    If God his sword of vengeance draw,
      It strikes our spirits dead.

    But thine illustrious Sacrifice
      Hath answered these demands;
    And peace, and pardon, from the skies,
      Came down by Jesus’ hands.”

It has been well remarked by Bacon, that “it is heaven on earth to
live in charity, to turn upon the poles of truth, and to rest in
Providence.” The tenderness and minuteness of the Divine care are
taught us by our Lord himself: “Fear not them which kill the body,
but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able
to destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for
a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your
Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear ye not
therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows,” Matt. x. 28–31.

Let, then, all who are reconciled to God through the death of his Son,
be comforted by this truth. God is not far from every one of us; the
vast and the minute are alike under his control; and he has graciously
promised that all things shall “work together for good to them that
love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”

In the ignorance and superstition of the human mind, applications are
sometimes made to those who are supposed to be endowed with magical
powers. Such practices are condemned in the Scriptures as vain and
wicked. Hence, says the prophet Isaiah, “When they shall say unto
you, Seek unto them that have familiar spirits, and unto wizards that
peep, and that mutter: should not a people seek unto their God? for the
living to the dead? To the law and to the testimony: if they speak not
according to this word, it is because there is no light in them,” Isa.
viii. 19, 20.




CHAPTER X.

  Claims of the church of Rome to miraculous power--The
    Franciscans and Dominicans--Tale of bishop Remi--The effect of
    relics--Friars’ pretended dispossession of evil spirits--Tragical
    event--Appearance of the virgin Mary to shepherds
    exposed--Pretended miracle of the Greek church.


The Romish church, in all ages, has affirmed that to it has been
granted the power of working miracles. Its “Lives of the Saints,” a
series extended avowedly through many centuries, abound with relations
of what are described as supernatural appearances, but which we can
only trace to a very different cause.

The two following facts are given by Luther:--“In the monastery of
Isenach stands an image, which I have seen. When a wealthy person came
thither to pray to it, (it was Mary with her child,) the child turned
away its face from the sinner to the mother, as if it refused to give
ear to his praying, and was therefore to seek mediation and help from
Mary the mother. But, if the sinner gave liberally to that monastery,
then the child turned to him again; and if he promised to give more,
then the child showed itself very friendly and loving, and stretched
out his arms over him, in the form of a cross. But this image was
made hollow within, and prepared with locks, lines, and screws; and
behind it stood a knave to move them; and so were the people mocked and
deceived, taking it to be a miracle wrought by Divine Providence!”

“A Dutchman, making his confession to a mass-priest at Rome, promised,
by an oath, to keep secret whatever the priest would impart to him,
till he came into Germany, upon which the priest pretended to give him
a leg of the ass on which Christ rode into Jerusalem, very neatly bound
up in a silken cloth, and said, ‘This is the holy relic on which the
Lord Christ did corporeally sit, and with his sacred legs touched this
ass’s leg!’ The Dutchman was wonderfully pleased, and carried the holy
relic with him into Germany, and when he came upon the borders, boasted
of his holy possession in the presence of four others of his comrades,
at the same time showing it to them; but each of the four having also
received a leg from the priest, and promised the same secrecy, he
inquired with astonishment, ‘Whether that ass had five legs!’”

The frauds practised by the professed ministers of religion, during
the almost universal prevalence of popery, most affectingly display
the depravity of the human heart, and the impious tendency of false
religion. Never, perhaps, was a stratagem acted more infamous than
one in Berne, in the year 1509, the following account of which drawn
from Ruchet’s “Histoire de la Réformation en Suisse,” and Höttinger’s
“Hist. Eccles. Helvet.,” is given in Mosheim’s “Eccles. Hist.” A
similar account may be found in bishop Burnet’s Travels through
France, Italy, etc. The stratagem in question was the consequence of a
rivalship between the Franciscans and Dominicans, and more especially
of their controversy concerning the immaculate conception of the virgin
Mary. The former maintained, that she was born without the blemish of
original sin; the latter asserted the contrary. The doctrine of the
Franciscans, in an age of darkness and superstition, could not but be
popular; and hence, the Dominicans lost ground from day to day. To
support the credit of their order, they resolved, at a chapter held at
Vimpsen in the year 1504, to have recourse to fictitious visions and
dreams, in which the people at that time had an easy faith; and they
determined to make Berne the scene of their operations. A person named
Jetzer, who was extremely simple, and much inclined to austerities,
and who had taken their habit as a lay-brother, was chosen as the
instrument of the delusions they were contriving. One of the four
Dominicans, who had undertaken the management of this plot, conveyed
himself secretly into Jetzer’s cell; and, about midnight, appeared to
him in a horrid figure, surrounded with howling dogs, and seemed to
blow fire from his nostrils, by the means of a box of combustibles
which he held near his mouth. In this frightful form, he approached
Jetzer’s bed, told him that he was the ghost of a Dominican, who had
been killed at Paris, as a judgment from heaven for laying aside his
monastic habit; that he was condemned to purgatory for this crime;
adding, that, by his means, he might be rescued from his misery, which
was beyond expression. This story, accompanied with horrible cries and
howlings, frightened poor Jetzer out of the little wits he had, and
engaged him to promise to do all in his power to deliver the Dominican
from his torment. Upon this, the impostor told him, that nothing but
the most extraordinary mortifications, such as the discipline of
the whip, performed during eight days by the whole monastery, and
Jetzer’s lying prostrate, in the form of one crucified, in the chapel,
during mass, could contribute to his deliverance. He added, that the
performance of these mortifications would draw down upon Jetzer the
peculiar protection of the blessed virgin; and concluded by saying that
he should appear to him again, accompanied with two other spirits.

Morning was no sooner come, than Jetzer gave an account of this
apparition to the rest of the convent, who all unanimously advised him
to undergo the discipline that was enjoined; and every one consented
to endure his share of the task imposed. The deluded simpleton obeyed,
and was admired as a saint by the multitude that crowded about the
convent, while the four friars, that managed the imposture, magnified,
in the most pompous manner, the miracle of this apparition, in their
sermons, and in their discourse. The night after, the apparition was
renewed, with the addition of two impostors, dressed like devils;
and Jetzer’s faith was augmented by hearing from the spectre all the
secrets of his life and thoughts, which the impostors had learned
from his confessor. In this, and some subsequent scenes, (the detail
of whose enormities we shall here omit,) the impostor talked much
to Jetzer of the Dominican order, which he said was peculiarly dear
to the blessed virgin; he added, that the virgin knew herself to be
conceived in original sin; that the doctors who taught the contrary
were in purgatory; that the blessed virgin abhorred the Franciscans
for making her equal with her Son; and that the town of Berne would be
destroyed for harbouring such plagues within her walls. In one of these
apparitions, Jetzer imagined that the voice of the spectre resembled
that of the prior of the convent, and he was not mistaken; but, not
suspecting a fraud, he gave little attention to this. The prior
appeared in various forms, sometimes in that of St. Barbara, at others,
in that of St. Bernard; at length, he assumed that of the virgin Mary;
and, for that purpose clothed himself in the habits that were employed
to adorn the statue of the virgin in the great festivals; the little
images, that on these days are placed on the altars, were made use of
for angels, which, being tied to a cord that passed through a pulley
over Jetzer’s head, rose up and down, and danced about the pretended
virgin to increase the delusion. The virgin thus equipped, addressed
a long discourse to Jetzer, in which, among other things, she told
him that she was conceived in original sin, though she had remained
but a short time under that blemish. She gave him, as a miraculous
proof of her presence, a host, or consecrated wafer, which turned from
white to red in a moment: and, after various visits, in which the
greatest enormities were transacted, the virgin-prior told Jetzer,
that she would give him the most affecting and undoubted marks of her
Son’s love, by imprinting on him the five wounds that pierced Jesus
on the cross, as she had done before to St. Lucia and St. Catharine.
Accordingly, she took his hand by force, and struck a large nail
through it, which threw the poor dupe into the greatest torment.

The next night, this masculine virgin brought, as he pretended, some
of the linen in which Christ had been buried, to soften the wound,
and gave Jetzer a soporific draught, which had in it the blood of
an unbaptized child, some grains of incense, and of consecrated
salt, some quicksilver, and the hairs of the eye-brows of a child,
all of which, with some stupifying and poisonous ingredients, were
mingled together by the prior with magic ceremonies, and a solemn
dedication of himself to the devil in the hope of his succour. This
draught threw the poor wretch into a sort of lethargy, during which
the monks imprinted on his body the other four wounds of Christ, in
such a manner that he felt no pain. When he awoke, he found, to his
unspeakable joy, these impressions on his body, and came at last to
fancy himself a representative of Christ in the various parts of his
passion. He was, in this state, exposed to the admiring multitude on
the principal altar of the convent, to the great mortification of the
Franciscans. The Dominicans gave him some other draughts, that threw
him into convulsions, which were followed by a voice conveyed through
a pipe into the mouths of two images, one of Mary, and another of the
child Jesus; the former of which had tears painted upon its cheeks
in a lively manner. The little Jesus asked his mother, by means of
this voice, (which was that of the prior,) why she wept? and she
answered, that her tears were owing to the impious manner in which the
Franciscans attributed to her the honour that was due to him, in saying
that she was conceived and born without sin.

The apparitions, false prodigies, and abominable stratagems of these
Dominicans were repeated every night; and the matter was at length so
grossly over-acted, that, simple as Jetzer was, he at last discovered
it, and had almost killed the prior, who appeared to him one night
in the form of the virgin, with a crown on her head. The Dominicans,
fearing, by this discovery, to lose the fruits of their imposture,
thought the best method would be to own the whole matter to Jetzer,
and to engage him, by the most seducing promises of opulence and
glory, to carry on the cheat. Jetzer was persuaded, or at least he
appeared to be so. The Dominicans, however, suspecting that he was not
entirely gained over, resolved to poison him; but his constitution was
so vigorous that, though they gave him poison five several times, he
was not destroyed by it. One day, they sent him a loaf prepared with
some spices, which, growing green in a day or two, he threw a piece of
it to a wolf’s whelps, that were in the monastery, and it killed them
immediately. At another time, they poisoned the host, or consecrated
wafer, but he escaped once more. In short, there were no means of
securing him, which the most detestable impiety and barbarity could
invent, that they did not put in practice; till, finding at last an
opportunity of getting out of the convent, he threw himself into the
hands of the magistrates, to whom he made a full discovery of this
infernal plot. The affair being brought to Rome, commissaries were sent
from thence to examine the matter; and the whole cheat being fully
proved, the four friars were solemnly degraded from their priesthood,
and were burned alive, on the last day of May, 1509. Jetzer died some
time after at Constance, having poisoned himself, as was believed by
some. Had his life been taken away before he had found an opportunity
of making the discovery already mentioned, this execrable and horrid
plot, which, in many of its circumstances, was conducted with art,
would probably have been handed down to posterity as a stupendous
miracle.

When the Reformation was spread in Lithuania, prince Radzviil was so
affected by it, that he went in person to pay the pope all possible
honours. His holiness, on this occasion, presented him with a precious
box of relics. The prince having returned home, some monks intreated
permission to try the effect of these relics on a demoniac, who had
hitherto resisted every kind of exorcism. They were brought into the
church with solemn pomp, and deposited on the altar, accompanied
by an innumerable crowd. After the usual conjurations, which were
unsuccessful, they applied the relics. The demoniac instantly
recovered. The people called out, “A miracle!” and the prince, lifting
his hands and eyes to heaven, felt, it is said, his faith confirmed.
In this transport of joy, he observed that a young gentleman, who was
keeper of this treasure of relics, smiled, and by his motions ridiculed
the miracle. The prince indignantly took the young keeper of the relics
to task; who, on the promise of pardon, gave the following secret
intelligence concerning them. In travelling from Rome he had lost the
box of relics, and, not daring to mention it, he obtained a similar
one, which he had filled with small bones of dogs and cats, and other
trifles similar to what were lost. He hoped he might be forgiven for
smiling, when he found such a collection of rubbish was idolized with
such pomp, and had even the virtue of expelling demons! It was by the
assistance of this box that the prince discovered the gross impositions
of the monks and demoniacs, and Radzviil afterwards became a zealous
Lutheran.[K]

To take another case, for which we are indebted to Scott’s “History of
the Lives of Protestant Reformers in Scotland.” At the east end of the
village of Musselburgh there was a chapel dedicated to the virgin Mary;
its proper name being Loretta, though it was vulgarly called Alareit,
or Lawreit. There was also a chapel of the same name in Perth, and
many credulous people of both these places, as well as the people of
Loretta, in Italy, believed that their chapel contained within it the
identical small brick-built house in which Mary had dwelt at Nazareth,
and that it had been conveyed miraculously from its original seat.
At the time now referred to, it was announced in Edinburgh, and the
neighbouring places, that a miracle would be performed on a certain
day, and a great number of persons consequently assembled. A stage was
erected on the outside of the chapel, and, at length, a young man,
apparently blind, was led forward. Many of those who were present
knew this person, and had, perhaps, often pitied his circumstances.
After various prayers and ceremonies, his eyes, to the satisfaction
of the people, appeared to be perfectly restored. Returning thanks
to the priests and friars, he now left the stage, and received the
congratulations of the people, some of whom gave him money.

The true character of the treatment of his case will appear from
the following narrative. He had been a poor friendless boy, who had
attended the sheep belonging to the ruins of Scienna, or Sciennes,
about a quarter of a mile from Edinburgh. It was one of his amusements
to turn up the whites of his eyes; and, so effectually did he do this,
as to appear, at pleasure, perfectly blind. The nuns spoke of him to
some priests and friars, and they laid the plan which was afterwards
carried out. The child was secreted for some years from public view,
and, when it was supposed he was so altered as not to be recognised, he
was sent forth a blind mendicant, accompanied by a person who believed
he was born so, and had previously been supported by the nuns. Bound by
a solemn but rash vow to affect blindness, he travelled the country for
a considerable time, till at length the trick of his restoration was
played as has already been stated.

Among the numerous publications of M. Guizot, is an edition of the
“Chronicles of Frodvard,” which, in addition to much historical matter,
ascribes many miracles to the bishops of Rheims. One of them, bishop
Remi, it is said, “was in the house of a wealthy female relative,
conversing with her on religious topics, when her butler announced
that there was no more wine in the cellars. The bishop, seeing her
embarrassment, having previously entered some of the lower apartments
himself, proposed to accompany her to the cellar. When they entered
it, he inquired whether there was not a little wine remaining in a
particular cask. The butler replied, that there was only enough to
preserve it from decay. The bishop then desired him to shut the door,
and not to stir from his position, and passing to the other end to
the cask, which was pretty large, he made the sign of the cross and
prayed. Soon the wine rose up out of the cask, and flooded over the
cellar-floor!” Now, the fact of the bishop’s visit to the cellar first;
of a butler, it might be, not very acute in vision, being desired,
after locking the door, to exclude all witnesses, and to stand at a
distance; and, of a relation of the bishop, who might easily be made a
confederate, being engaged; is surely more than sufficient to set aside
the whole tale. Moreover, the lady gave, as the result of the prodigy,
which many a conjuror has easily surpassed, a portion of her estate in
perpetuity to the bishop and his church! Prodigies of the Romish church
in abundance have had precisely the same issue.

In an official and authorized Roman Catholic publication, printed in
1831, we are told that not less than twenty-six pictures of the virgin
Mary opened and shut their eyes at Rome during the years 1796 and 1797,
which was supposed to be an indication of her peculiar favour to the
inhabitants of that city for the opposition which they presented to the
French. Among the subscribers to this work are the four archbishops and
eleven bishops of Ireland.

“An officer in the British army described to me,” says Mr. Hughes, “an
extraordinary scene which he witnessed in Messina, in 1811, occasioned
by a picture of the virgin, in a church much venerated by the populace.
An inhabitant going in, according to custom, to offer up his adoration
to the Madonna, suddenly ran out again, exclaiming, that ‘_the virgin
was weeping_ for calamity impending over the city.’ The people rushed
in crowds to the church; when, lo! to their astonishment and dismay,
the tears were, as reported, trickling over the cheeks of their beloved
patroness; upon which, the whole multitude began to weep, and howl, and
beat their breasts, expecting nothing less than an earthquake, or a
French invasion. At length one, more acute than the rest, observed that
some water was passing through the roof of the church, and dripping
upon the canvas, pointed out the circumstance; but he nearly fell a
victim to his want of judgment, for the people were determined to have
a miracle; nor could they be persuaded to disperse till the archbishop,
a venerable old man, mounted a ladder, and wiped the lady’s eyes with
a napkin; after this, he drew the picture into a more perpendicular
situation, telling his audience, that, as the cause was luckily
removed, _their patroness_ had promised to weep no more.”[L]

The author of “Rome in the Nineteenth Century” says: “Private miracles
affecting individuals go on quite commonly every day without exciting
the smallest attention. These generally consist in procuring prizes
in the lottery, curing diseases, and casting out devils. The mode of
effecting this last description of miracle was communicated to me the
other day by an abate here, and, as I think it extremely curious, I
shall narrate it to you.

“It seems that a certain friar had preached a sermon during Lent, upon
the state of the woman mentioned in Scripture possessed with seven
devils, with so much eloquence and unction, that a simple countryman
who heard him went home, and became persuaded that seven devils had
got possession of him. The idea haunted his mind, and subjected him
to the most dreadful terrors; till, unable to bear his sufferings,
he unbosomed himself to his ghostly father, and asked his counsel.
The father, who had some smattering of science, bethought himself,
at last, of a way to rid the honest man of his devils and his money
together. He told him it would be necessary to combat with the devils
singly, and, on the day appointed, when the poor man came with a sum of
money--without which the good father told him the devil never could be
dislodged--he bound the chain connected with an electrical machine in
an adjoining chamber round his body--lest, as he said, the devil should
fly away with him--and, having warned him that the shock would be
terrible when the devil went out of him, he left him praying devoutly
before an image of the Madonna; and after some time, gave him a pretty
smart shock, at which the poor wretch fell insensible on the floor from
terror. As soon as he recovered, however, he protested that he had seen
the devil fly away out of his mouth, breathing blue flames and sulphur,
and that he felt himself greatly relieved. Seven electrical shocks at
due intervals having extracted seven sums of money from him, together
with the seven devils, the man was cured, and a great miracle performed!

“To us this transaction seemed a notable piece of credulous
superstition on the one hand, and fraudulent knavery on the other; but
to our friend the abate, it only seemed an ingenious device to cure of
his fears a simpleton, over whose mind reason could have no power--as
the physician cured a lady who fancied she had a nest of live earwigs
in her stomach, not by arguing with her on the absurdity of such a
notion, but by showing her that an earwig was killed by a single drop
of oil, and making her swallow a quantity of it.

“But with respect to the man and his devils, I would ask, why inspire
superstitious terrors to conquer them by deceit, and why make him pay
so much money? Yet this is nothing to other things that are of daily
occurrence.”

In some of the provinces of France, miracles are stated continually
to be performed, and the peasants blindly adopt all the extravagances
presented to their acceptance. In the little town of Fécamp there is
a fountain, the water of which is said to do wonders; and thousands
of pilgrims annually resort to it from the neighbouring country. The
curé distributes to each a bottle of this water, accompanying it with
some Latin words, receiving two sous for his trouble. This amounts to
a considerable sum. In another town, Andelys, there is also a fountain
which, it is said, possesses, once a year, the sovereign virtue of
curing rheumatism, palsy, and nervous affections. The pilgrims either
plunge the diseased member into the water, or throw themselves in
entirely, and, afterwards, follow the procession in their wet clothes.

In the month of June, 1824, in a small village, called Artes,
near Hostalrich, about twelve leagues from Barcelona, there was a
constitutionalist, and therefore one opposed to the ruling power,
with which the priesthood was fully identified. This man being at the
point of death, his brother called on the curate, and requested him
to come and administer the sacraments. The curate refused; affirming
that the brother, as a constitutionalist, was a villain, an impious
wretch, an enemy to God and man; he was lost, without mercy, and that,
therefore, it was useless to confess him. The brother asked whence
this information was derived; the reply was, that God himself told
the curate this during the sacrifice of the mass. In vain the brother
reiterated his intreaties; the curate was inexorable. A few days after,
the constitutionalist expired, and the brother demanded for the body
the rites of sepulture. The curate refused, alleging that the soul
of the departed was lost, and that it was in vain to inter the body;
adding, “For during the night, the devils will come and carry it away;
and in forty days, you yourself will meet the same fate.”

The Spaniard not treating this declaration with implicit faith, but,
with his suspicions awakened, watched during the night, with his
pistols loaded, beside the body of his brother. Between twelve and
one o’clock, a knock was heard at the door, and a voice exclaimed, “I
command you to open the door, in the name of the living God! Open!
if not, your instant ruin is at hand.” The Spaniard refused; and
shortly after he saw enter, by the window, three figures, covered
with the skins of wild beasts, provided with horns, claws, and tails;
and, as they were about carrying off the coffin containing the body,
the Spaniard fired, and shot one of them dead; the others took to
flight; he fired after them, and wounded both. One of them died in a
few minutes, the other escaped. In the morning, a discovery was made:
the people went to church, but there was no curate to officiate: it
was found shortly after, on examining those who had been shot, that
one was the curate, the other the vicar; the person wounded was the
sacristan, who confessed the whole plot. The case was brought before
the tribune of Barcelona.[M]

And yet, despite of the frequent exposure of its wicked pretences, the
Romish church contends at this hour as earnestly for the possession of
miraculous endowments as it ever did. As it claims to be unchangeable,
this is manifestly its only course. Accordingly, it has been affirmed
of the last persons added to the Romish calendar, only a few years ago,
that they wrought miracles. The time of canonization is sagaciously
deferred till two centuries after the decease of the parties; but
there is no difficulty in seeing that all the avowed deviations from
the laws of nature attributed to the canonized, are impious pretences.
Dr. Harsnett, afterwards archbishop of York, said, long since, “None
but the pope and his scholars can cogge a miracle kindlie, and he and
his priests can despatch a miracle as easily as a squirrel can cracke
a nutte. A miracle in the bread, a miracle in the wine, a miracle in
the holy water, a miracle in holy oyle, a miracle in lamps, candles,
beades, bones, stones; nothing done in religion without a miracle and a
vice.” And even Petrarch thus wrote:--

   “Fountain of grief, abode of anger,
    School of errors, and temple of heresy;
    Formerly Rome, now Babylon false and guilty;
    Through whom there are so many tears and sighs;
    O mistress of deceit; O prison of anger,
    Where the good perish, and the bad are cherished and engendered,
    Hell of the living! It will be a great miracle
    If Christ is not angry with thee at last.”

So recently as the beginning of the year 1847, the virgin Mary was
said to have appeared to two shepherds, in the district of Grenoble.
The so-called miracle was blazed forth far and wide, and an engraved
representation of the appearance was widely distributed. Nor was this
all: it was said that the virgin sat on a stone during the interview,
and that, on this being broken, after she was gone, there was found in
the interior an image of our Lord! But what are the facts that have
been discovered since? That the priests employed a lady to personate
the virgin; and that the figure in the stone was traced by a French
officer, who, with a companion, placed it on that spot for a joke; as,
in Italy, objects of modern manufacture are buried, and then dug up,
to be passed off on the unwary as really antique! In such instances,
however, money is frequently made; while the French officers had no
mercenary intentions.

We close these exposures with a pretended miracle of the Greek church.
At the church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem, there is annually
a ceremony to which multitudes are attracted. It is pretended by the
Greek priests, that, on a particular day, a sacred fire proceeds from
the sepulchre: the pilgrims, therefore, congregated at Jerusalem,
attend there to light theirs; these are then extinguished, and
carefully preserved, to be added to the garment dipped in the Jordan
when they are buried. All, however, await the arrival of the Turkish
governor; for, “till he arrives, the miracle is not certainly to take
place.”

To quote from some travellers who were present at the ceremony, during
the year 1846, we are informed that “it was a very remarkable scene.
The large area of the church was densely crowded; but, around the
sepulchre, a space of about four feet wide was kept clear by a double
line of Turkish soldiers. At short intervals of time, a number of
infatuated and highly-excited men and boys entered in, and, rushed
round and round with desperate energy, screaming and hallooing like
so many maniacs. Some stood upright on a friend’s shoulders, who ran
with the rest till an unlucky stumble threw both to the ground. One old
man was particularly conspicuous; he generally headed the rest, and
seemed to be fitter for a strait-waistcoat than to be the leader of a
religious procession. He danced, shouted, and threw himself into all
sorts of postures. At last he mounted on another frantic devotee, and
urged him to his utmost speed: they continued their mad course till he
was thrown down violently against two of the soldiers; they seized him
by the hair of his head, and hauled him out of the church. In a few
minutes, however, he returned and was more outrageous than before.
Thus, for two hours, the church was a scene of noise, confusion, and
frantic excitement. At two o’clock the governor arrived, and quietly
took his seat. The racing pilgrims were driven off the course, and,
shortly after, a procession of priests, headed by the patriarch, and
followed by a motley group of ragged fellows, bearing shabby banners,
walked slowly round three times, chanting some prayers. The patriarch
was a grey-headed old man, with a cunning expression of countenance;
his very look seemed to say, ‘I am about to act a lie--what fools
are you to believe it!’ There is a circular hole in the side of the
little chapel built over the sepulchre; close to it a man was posted,
protected by the soldiers. He was a rich pilgrim, probably an Armenian,
who had paid handsomely for the privilege of being the first to light
his tapers by the holy fire. The old patriarch, having divested himself
of most of his fine trappings, entered alone into the sanctuary. In a
minute after, he pushed through the hole a quantity of flaming cotton,
dipped in spirits of wine; the favoured pilgrim eagerly lighted a bunch
of tapers by it, and, escorted by the soldiers, hurried out of the
church. The excitement was now at its height; a scene followed which
baffles description. There was a tremendous rush towards the flame,
still held out by the patriarch, and each strove who should light his
taper the earliest. Those who could not get up to head-quarters were
obliged to procure a light from the more fortunate, and in three
minutes the church and adjoining chapels were in a blaze. Thousands
of wax-candles and flambeaux were glittering over the space; some had
forty or fifty long thin tapers bound together, which were intended
as valuable presents for friends at home. It was, for the time, like
Bedlam let loose: some were kneeling in ecstatic adoration, others
screaming, dancing, and jumping; the more zealous put the flame into
their mouths, or applied it to their faces or naked breasts. It is
asserted that the holy fire does not burn or hurt any one, but Mr.
Dalton noticed that few kept it long enough near to give it a fair
trial. In ten minutes every taper was extinguished, and the pilgrims
dispersed, carrying away the precious relics.”[N]

In former parts of this volume, it has been shown that surprising
effects are frequently produced for the amusement of others, or
from the love of gain and celebrity, so common to fallen man. And,
doubtless, wherever true piety does not operate--the piety which is
displayed in supreme love to God, and pure and expansive benevolence
to man--there will be some manifestation of the “spirit” that worketh
in “the children of disobedience.” While “he that doeth righteousness
is righteous, he that committeth sin is of the devil; for the devil
sinneth from the beginning,” 1 John iii. 7, 8.

To transgressors of every age our Lord still says, “Ye are of your
father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do,” John viii.
44. And bondage to the “god of this world” brings on his captives,
whether old or young, rich or poor, instructed or untaught, not only
guilt but misery; while “the end of these things is death,” Rom. vi. 21.

But when we see impious pretences employed in order to hold the minds
of men in the most degrading vassalage, we have a fearful display of
enormous guilt, accumulated by a wilful subjection to “the father
of lies.” Satan was “a liar from the beginning.” To accomplish his
purposes, he can “transform himself into an angel of light;” and
still he leads multitudes “captive at his will.” Marvellous is the
forbearance of the Supreme Governor of the universe, who does not at
once ease him of his adversaries, but still richly and freely offers
the blessings of salvation to a world which lieth in the wicked one.
Who will not desire that the goodness of God may lead the greatest
transgressors to repentance? And, as one act of submission to the
prince of the power of the air is a fearful step towards an absolute
and eternal thraldom, it becomes each of us to imitate those who could
say, “We are not ignorant of his devices;” constantly to present at
the throne of grace the petition, “Lead us not into temptation, but
deliver us from evil;” and to trust implicitly in Him who, on the cross
having “spoiled principalities and powers, made a show of them openly,
triumphing over them in it,” 2 Cor. ii. 11; Matt. vi. 13; Col. ii. 15.




CHAPTER XI.

  Real Miracles--A miracle defined by archbishop Tillotson--The
    miracles of Moses--The miracles of our Lord Jesus Christ--The
    miracles of the apostles--Collision with those who pretended
    to supernatural power--The magicians of Egypt--Magical arts at
    Ephesus--The miraculous power of the Saviour inherent, that of
    the prophets and apostles derived--Cessation of miraculous gifts.


We now enter on a brief consideration of unquestionable miracles. As
the grant of Divine revelation was made to some persons who were to
proclaim it to the whole human race, so, while holy men of God spake as
they were moved by the Holy Ghost, the broad seal of Heaven was placed
by miracles on their testimony. As a man’s signature gives validity
to his bond, or the credentials of an ambassador demonstrate his
right to transact the business of his sovereign; so the supernatural
works performed by the prophets, by our Lord Jesus Christ, and by
his apostles, prove as fully to those who witnessed them, that the
words they heard proceeded from God, as if they had listened to him
pronouncing them with an audible voice from the excellent glory; while
all to whom their testimony has been faithfully transmitted, may
cherish an equal confidence.

It has been well remarked by archbishop Tillotson, that “there are two
things necessary in a miracle: that there should be a supernatural
effect, and that this effect should be evident to sense.” He adds,
“Neither in Scripture, nor in profane authors, nor in common use, is
anything called a miracle but what falls under the cognizance of the
senses; a miracle being nothing else but a supernatural effect evident
to sense, the great end and design whereof is to be the sensible proof
and conviction of something that we do not see.” The church of Rome
affirms that, in the celebration of the mass, the bread and wine are
changed into the very body and blood, soul and Divinity, of our Lord
Jesus Christ; though they retain exactly the same appearance that
they had before the change is said to have occurred. Hence, the same
writer argues, “For want of a supernatural effect evident to sense,
transubstantiation is no miracle; a sign or a miracle is always a thing
sensible, otherwise it could be no sign. Now, that such a change in
transubstantiation should really be wrought, and yet that there should
be no sign of it, is a thing very wonderful; but not to sense, for
our senses perceive no change. And that a thing should remain to all
appearance just as it was, hath nothing at all wonderful in it. We
wonder, indeed, when we see a strange thing done, but no man wonders
when he sees nothing done.”

Numberless were the miracles wrought by Jehovah in ancient times, in
behalf of his chosen people. In vain does infidelity object that the
contents of the books of Moses _may_ not be true; since, had they been
false, it was absolutely impossible that they could have obtained any
credit. The number of the people must have amounted to three millions,
and every adult person was a competent judge whether the things related
to have taken place within his own memory had really happened.

The Israelites would not have believed that the Red Sea was divided
to give them a passage--that, during their pilgrimage of forty years
in the wilderness, a miraculous cloud had guided them by day, and
become at night a fire casting round its radiance--that they had been
supplied with manna from heaven, falling on six successive days around
their camp, and on the last of them a double quantity, to prevent
its being gathered on the sabbath--that God had published his law on
the mount that might not be touched, amidst thunders, and lightning,
and tempest--and that he had punished its violation by terrible
plagues--for them to believe these things would have been absolutely
impossible, had the whole narrative been a fiction. A romance would
have excited their ridicule, and the yoke which, on the ground of the
invention, was to be placed about their necks, would have been rejected
with the utmost indignation. It is also morally impossible that the
books of Moses could have been received in the age immediately after
his death, if their contents had been false; and highly improbable
that, though true, they would have been considered his writings, if
they had been set forth by some other person in his name, and had not
appeared till he was lying in his grave.

It would be easy to show that the wondrous acts recorded are traced
explicitly to Divine operation. In illustration of this, the following
passages may be taken: “I am the Lord, your Holy One, the Creator
of Israel, your King.” “Thus saith the Lord, which maketh a way in
the sea and a path in the mighty waters;” alluding, most probably,
to the passage of Israel through the Red Sea, and, afterwards, to
their crossing the Jordan, both of which events were unquestionably
miraculous.

That one great object kept in view by the Redeemer in performing
miracles was, to furnish convincing proofs of his Divine mission, is
evident from the uniform tenor of the inspired narratives. Nicodemus
reasoned justly when he said, “Rabbi, we know that thou art a teacher
come from God: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except
God be with him,” John iii. 2. The same conviction was possessed by the
chief priests and the Pharisees, for they said, after the resurrection
of Lazarus, “This man doeth many miracles: if we let him thus alone all
men will believe on him,” John xi. 47, 48. Our Lord himself appeals
to his miracles: “I have greater witness than that of John, for the
works which the Father hath given me to finish, the same works that I
do bear witness of me, that the Father hath sent me,” John v. 36. It
is impossible, therefore, that any statement could be more plain and
decisive. Our Lord rests his claim to be believed on the wonders he
wrought. Again, he says, “If I had not done among them the works which
none other man did, they had not had sin; but now they have no cloak
for their sin.” Thus, we see the wonders which Christ wrought were
unparalleled. He healed the sick, he penetrated the minds of men by his
own infinite power. And hence, the unbelief of those who witnessed his
mighty deeds appeared in all its aggravated and naked enormity; “their
sin remained.” But, in direct opposition to this, there would have
been a plea for unbelief had pretended miracles been true. Had it been
a fact, instead of a fable, that Æsculapius had cured disease at his
oracle, or that the god of the oracle of Claros had known the thoughts
of men’s hearts, then, and then only, there would have been a cover for
their iniquity.

Were we to select one miracle as demonstrative that Jesus was sent by
the Father, and of the acceptance of his work; and, still further,
of the futility of every objection that can be raised against it; it
should be that of the resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ. “See,”
says Saurin, “how many extravagant suppositions must be advanced if
the resurrection of our Saviour be denied. It must be supposed that
guards, who had been particularly cautioned by their officers, sat down
to sleep; and that, nevertheless, they deserved credit when the body
of Jesus was stolen. It must be supposed that men who had been imposed
on in the most odious and cruel manner in the world, hazarded their
dearest enjoyments for the glory of an impostor. It must be supposed
that ignorant and illiterate men, who had neither reputation, fortune,
nor eloquence, possessed the art of fascinating the eyes of all the
church. It must be supposed either that five hundred persons were all
deprived of their senses at a time, or that they were all deceived
in the plainest matters of fact; or, that this multitude of false
witnesses had found out the secret of never contradicting themselves or
one another, and of being always uniform in their testimony. It must be
supposed that the most expert courts of judicature could not find out a
shadow of a contradiction in a palpable imposture. It must be supposed
that the apostles, sensible men in other cases, chose precisely those
places and those times which were most unfavourable to their views. It
must be supposed that millions madly suffered imprisonments, tortures,
and crucifixion, to spread an illusion. It must be supposed that ten
thousand miracles were wrought in favour of falsehoods, or all these
facts must be denied. And then, it must be supposed that the apostles
were idiots, that the enemies of Christianity were idiots, and that all
the primitive Christians were idiots.”

The apostles of our Lord were invested with miraculous powers: “God
also bearing them witness, both with signs and wonders, and with
divers miracles and gifts of the Holy Ghost, according to his own
will,” Heb. ii. 4. As the apostles asserted a direct and unequivocal
claim to miraculous powers, and as these are declared in the New
Testament to have been exerted by them, falsehood, if proved, would
destroy the veracity of their writings, and the validity of all the
doctrines and precepts they contained. But, let the case be duly
weighed, and it will be seen, that, to support their pretensions by
artifice and chicanery, was absolutely impossible. A few might be
deceived, an empire could not be; and great must be the infatuation of
supposing that a few obscure men could blind the eyes of the people
among whom they lived. In the face of the utmost hostility, in the
midst of the greatest perils, in defiance of cruel persecutions, and
with the crucifixion of their Lord before their eyes, they could not
have claimed the exercise of miraculous powers if they had not been
actually possessed. Had they resembled the Romanists, to whom we have
referred, would it have been possible to escape detection?

It is worthy of special remark, that more than one account is given
us in sacred history of the messengers of God entering into collision
with those who pretended to supernatural power. Thus a memorable
contest took place between Moses and the magicians of Pharaoh’s court.
Different opinions are entertained as to the means by which the latter
performed their feats, some contending that they were mere tricks, and
others that evil spirits were in active operation. On this controverted
question we do not enter; it is sufficient for the present purpose to
remark, that the superiority of the servants of Jehovah was placed
beyond all dispute. The rod of Aaron swallowed up the rods of the
magicians; at the plague of flies and the murrain on the cattle, they
were compelled to say, “This is the finger of God;” and at length they
“could not stand before Moses because of the boils, for the boils were
upon the magicians and all the Egyptians,” Exod. ix. 11.

Another instance of a later date is equally conclusive. The gospel
was proclaimed at Ephesus, where the arts which pretended to lay open
the secrets of nature, and to arm the hand of man with supernatural
powers, were especially apparent. Indeed, in the age of our Lord and
his apostles, pretended adepts in the occult sciences were numerous;
they travelled from country to country, and were found in great numbers
in Asia, deceiving the credulous multitude, and profiting by their
expectations. They were sometimes Jews, who referred their skill, and
even their forms of proceeding, to Solomon, who is still regarded in
the east as the head or prince of magicians. In Asia Minor, Ephesus had
a high reputation for magical arts. Here, then, “God wrought special
miracles by the hands of Paul.” The appeal to the wonder-workers of a
country which contained so magnificent a temple to Diana, that it was
reckoned among the wonders of the world, was singularly striking.
Accustomed as the Ephesians were to produce strange results by some
species of magic, they would naturally ascribe miracles to a similar
agency. It was necessary, therefore, that the miracles which were to
serve as the credentials of Christianity, should be especially marked,
and placed beyond the reach of all their enchantments and incantations.
And it seems an instance not the less remarkable, because easily
overlooked, of the adaptation of means to an end, that in Ephesus,
in which, of all others, magic was resorted to, the powers granted
to the first heralds of redeeming mercy sufficed to place them at an
immeasurable distance above the most consummate magicians.

Another fact is equally entitled to attention. Certain Jews travelling
in that country, and professing to cast out the evil spirits which
frequently possessed the bodies of men, took upon them, as avowed
exorcists, to employ the name of the Lord Jesus, from the success with
which it was used by the apostle Paul. Amongst these were the seven
sons of Sceva, a Jew, who addressed an evil spirit in the name of
Christ, thinking, perhaps, that their number would give special force
to their adjuration. The spirit, however, answered, “Jesus I know,
and Paul I know, but who are ye?” nor was he content with refusing to
be thus ejected; for, causing the man in whom he dwelt to put forth
supernatural strength, “he leaped upon the young men and overcame them,
and forced them to flee out of the house naked and wounded.” These
facts soon became notorious; fear fell alike on the Jews and Greeks
residing at Ephesus; the most potent appeal had been made to those
accustomed to use charms and incantations; and numbers were led at once
to renounce their arts of magic.

Very celebrated were the “Ephesian letters,” which appear to have been
a sort of magical formula written on paper or parchment, designed to
be fixed as amulets on different parts of the body, such as the hands
and the head. Erasmus says, that they were certain signs or marks
which rendered their possessor victorious in everything. Eustatius
mentions an opinion that Crœsus, when on his funeral pile, was very
much benefited by the use of them; and that when a Milesian and an
Ephesian were wrestling in the Olympic games, the former could gain no
advantage, as the latter had Ephesian letters bound round his heel;
but these being removed he lost his superiority, and was thrown thirty
times. Many of these were, probably, among the books of which we read,
Acts xix. 19; while others were most likely occupied by descriptions
of the prevailing modes of practising “enchantments.” But all were
promptly and cheerfully consigned to the flames. Thus the sincerity
of the converts was evident by no trifling sacrifice, for, when they
counted the price of these books, they “found it fifty thousand pieces
of silver. So mightily grew the word of God and prevailed.”

That there was a difference between the operations of the apostles and
the agency of our Lord, should be clearly perceived. The power of the
Saviour was inherent--that of the apostles was derived. How manifest is
the miraculous agency of Christ shown in the cure of the leper! “Lord,
if thou wilt,” said he to the Saviour, “thou canst make me clean.”
Jesus answered, “I will--be thou clean,” and immediately he was made
whole. Our Lord made no appeal to any other power. At the grave of
Lazarus, indeed, he “lifted up his eyes, and said, Father, I thank thee
that thou hast heard me.” But this prayer appears to have been offered
not on his own account, but for the sake of those who surrounded him,
and who needed such a seal to his mission to establish their faith.
Therefore, he added, “And I know that thou hearest me always: but
because of the people which stand by I said it, that they may believe
that thou hast sent me.” And as on other occasions, he said, “Thy sins
are forgiven thee”--“Arise, take up thy bed and walk”--“I command thee
to come out of her,” so now he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus,
come forth. And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with
grave-clothes: and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith
unto them, Loose him, and let him go,” John xi. 42–44.

Our Lord had previously said, “Therefore, doth my Father love me,
because I lay down my life, that I might take it again. No man taketh
it from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down,
and I have power to take it again. This commandment have I received of
my Father,” John x. 17, 18. In like manner, Jesus said to Martha, “I am
the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were
dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall
never die,” John xi. 25, 26. How strikingly contrasted was the language
of the apostles! In the case of the lame man laid at the beautiful gate
of the temple, Peter said, “Silver and gold have I none; but such as
I have give I thee: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up
and walk.” These words, uttered on the first miracle of the apostles,
expressed the great principle on which they performed every other, and
the spirit in which they wrought all their wondrous deeds.

The apostle, like the prophet, laid down his authority, and resigned
his commission with his life; but our Lord Jesus Christ not only
exercised his power amidst his last sufferings and death, but extended
his authority beyond the grave. “I lay down my life of myself; no man
taketh it from me; I have power to lay it down, and I have power to
take it again.” And though he said, “This commandment have I received
of my Father,” he also added, “I and my Father are one”--“thereby,” as
the Jews distinctly perceived, “making himself equal with God.”

Even the diversity of gifts distributed among primitive saints,
proved the infinite resources of Him by whom they were granted. Though
bestowed by the Holy Spirit, they were purchased by the blood and
supplied by the grace of the Son of God. Speaking of the outpouring of
the Spirit, and its results, Jesus said, “He shall receive of mine, and
shall show it unto you.” Most emphatically does he lay claim to all the
fulness of the Godhead, when he adds, “All things that the Father hath
are mine: therefore said I, that he shall take of mine, and show it
unto you.” Thus, the gift of tongues, of miracles, of prophecy, and of
interpretation, proved the infinite power of the Giver, on whose will
the extent and diversity of the operation alike depended. Some had one
power and some another: but all these wrought that one and the selfsame
Spirit, dividing to every man severally as he would. 1 Cor. xii. 11.

The miraculous endowments of early times were, however, transient.
Certain facts appear to be conclusive on this point. No gift was more
highly estimated, or considered more necessary for the propagation
of the gospel, than the gift of tongues. And yet, this was,
unquestionably, of short duration. The only reference made to it in
all the documents of antiquity, is in the work of Irenæus against the
heretics. He says, “We hear of many in the church imbued with prophetic
gifts, speaking with all kinds of tongues.” But though he must have
required the gift as much as any--for he was called to labour for
the diffusion of the gospel among the pagan Celts--yet he expressly
declares, “It was not the least part of his trouble, that he was forced
to learn the language of the country, a rude and barbarous dialect,
before he could effect any good among them.” Augustine, it is evident,
knew nothing of supernatural power like that which some had possessed
at a former period. “In the primitive times,” he says, “the Holy Spirit
fell upon believers, and they spoke in tongues which they had not
learned, as the Spirit gave them utterance. These were signs suitable
for the time. It was right that the Holy Spirit should thus be borne
witness of in all tongues, throughout the world. That testimony being
given, it passed away.” With equal explicitness Chrysostom affirms, “Of
miraculous powers not so much as a single vestige or trace remains.”

In vain do Romanists contend for the continuance of miracles. Never
have they been able to produce a solitary instance in which the gift
of tongues has been exercised. And yet, if any member of their church
might have been expected to be so endowed, it certainly would have
been Francis Xavier, who has been called “the apostle of the Indies.”
But even he confesses that, ignorant of the language of the people to
whom he went, he was incapable of doing any service to the Christian
cause, and was little more than a mute statue among them, till he could
acquire some competent knowledge of their tongues.

Miracles have passed away; but we still possess the glorious gospel of
the blessed God. A power, however, more than human is needed to apply
it to the heart. To open the blind eyes, to unstop the deaf ears, to
give spiritual discernment to the mind, to break down prejudice, to
humble pride, to “cast down imaginations and every high thing that
exalteth itself against the knowledge of God,” is the work of the Holy
Spirit. Paul, as he cast around him “the good seed of the kingdom,”
might have given up all in despair, but for interposing Omnipotence. “I
have planted,” he said, “Apollos watered; but God gave the increase. So
then neither is he that planteth anything, neither he that watereth;
but God that giveth the increase.”

There is, however, a great diversity in the operations of the same
Divine Spirit. Some are brought at once “from the power of Satan unto
God;” and ever will the time and circumstances of their conversion
be held in remembrance. Others are led by a slow and gradual
process--perhaps scarcely perceptible, and affording few points of
prominent recollection, out of darkness into “marvellous light.” Still
the result is the same. All are brought to Jesus, and believe on him as
having died for their sins, and risen again for their justification;
all by virtue of union with him, under the sanctifying influence of the
Holy Spirit, are become new creatures, enjoying the blessings of his
great salvation, holding communion with him, increasing in resemblance
to him, and yielding to him practical obedience and devotion. To him,
then, let us constantly look, to apply the truth to our own consciences
and hearts, to sanctify us wholly, body, soul, and spirit, and to
prosper every effort we make in behalf of others.



FOOTNOTES


[A] Foster’s Contributions to the Eclectic Review, vol. i. p. 545.

[B] Wilkinson’s Modern Egypt, vol. i. pp. 218–223.

[C] Lord Nugent’s “Lands Classical and Sacred.”

[D] Natural Magic, p. 286.

[E] Philosophy of Magic.

[F] North British Review.

[G] Literary Gazette.

[H] Athenæum.

[I] Edinburgh Review.

[J] For a fuller account of the electric telegraph, see “The Visitor,”
for January, February, and March, 1848; from which many facts, now
given, have been taken.

[K] D’Israeli’s “Curiosities,” p. 87.

[L] Hughes’s Travels, Vol. I. p. 125.

[M] Foreign Quarterly Review.

[N] “The Boat and the Caravan.”




Transcriber’s Notes


Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a
predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they
were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation
marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left
unbalanced.

Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs and
outside quotations. Footnotes, originally at the bottoms of pages, have
been collected, resequenced, and placed at the end of the text.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 64413 ***