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him, presented him with a hundred crowns, which realised all his wishes, and made him the happiest man in the world. With this sum he built himself a more commodious habitation in the middle of his vineyard, and furnished it with many moveables and utensils, of which he was in great want; but, above all, it procured a very considerable addition to his

library, an article so essential to his happiness that he declared to Mr. Hoffman he would not accept the whole province in which he lived upon condition that he should renounce his studies, and that he had rather live on bread and water than withhold from his mind that food which his intellectual hunger perpetually required.

AN ACCOUNT OF

THIS book, according to Sir Henry Spelman, if not the most ancient, yet, without controversy, the most venerable monument of Great Britain, contains an account of all the lands of England except the four northern counties, Northumberland, Cumberland, Westmoreland, Durham, and part of Lancashire; and describes the quantity and particular nature of them, whether meadow, pasture, arable, wood, or waste land; it mentions their rents and taxations, and records the several possessors of lands, their number, and distinct degrees. King Alfred, about the year 900, composed a book of like nature, of which this was in some measure a copy.

This book, according to the Red Book in the Exchequer, was begun by order of William the Conqueror, with the advice of his Parliament, in the year of our Lord, 1080, and completed in the year 1086. The reason given for doing it, as assigned by several ancient records and histories, was, that every man should be satisfied with his own right, and not usurp with impunity what belonged to another. Besides these, other motives seem to have occasioned this survey. Sir Martin Wright, in his introduction to the "Law of Tenures," appears to be of this opinion, which he expresses in the following words: "It is very remarkable that William the First, about the twentieth year of his reign, just when the general survey of England, called Domesday-book,' is supposed to be finished, and not till then, summoned all the great men and landholders in the kingdom to London and Salisbury to do

DOOMSDAY-BOOK.

their homage and swear their fealty to him. So that we may reasonably suppose, First, that this general homage and fealty was done at this time, in consequence of something new; and if so, it is probable that tenures were then new, inasmuch as homage and fealty were, and still are, mere feudal engagements, binding the homager to all the duties and observances of a feudal tenant.

"Secondly. That as this general homage and fealty was done about the time that Domesday-book was finished, and not before, we may suppose that that survey was taken upon or soon after our ancestors' consent to tenures, in order to discover the quantity of every man's fee, and to fix his homage. This supposition is the more probable, because it is not likely that a work of this nature was undertaken without some immediate reason; and no better reason can be assigned why it was undertaken at this time, or indeed why this survey should be taken at all; there being then extant a general survey of the whole kingdom made by Alfred."

For the execution of this survey, commissioners were sent into every county and shire: and juries summoned in each hundred, out of all orders of freemen, from barons down to the lowest farmers, who were, upon oath, to inform the commissioners the name of each manor, and that of its owner; also by whom it was held in the time of Edward the Confessor; the number of hides, the quantity of wood, of pasture, and meadow-land; how many ploughs were in the demesne, and how many in the tenanted part of it; how many mills, how many fish-ponds or

fisheries belonging to it; with the value of the whole together in the time of King Edward, as well as when granted by King William, and at the time of this survey; also whether it was capable of improvement, or of being advanced in its value; they were likewise directed to return the tenants, of every degree, the quantity of lands now and formerly held by each of them; and what was the number of the villains or slaves; and also the number and kinds of their cattle and live stock. These inquisitions being first methodized in the county, were afterwards sent up to the king's Exchequer; some of the particulars concerning which the jury were directed to inquire were thought unnecessary to be inserted. This survey, at the time in which it was made, gave great offence to the people, and occasioned a jealousy that it was intended for the foundation of some new imposition.

Notwithstanding the precaution taken by the Conqueror to have this survey faithfully and impartially executed, it appears, from indisputable authority, that a false return was given in by some of the commissioners. This was in the case of the Abbey of Croyland, in Lincolnshire; the possessions of which were greatly under-rated, both with regard to quantity and value. Perhaps similar or more interested inducements may have operated in other instances; as it is said, Ralph Flambard, minister to William Rufus, proposed the making a fresh and more rigorous inquisition; but it was never executed.

Nevertheless, in despite of this impeachment of its credibility, the authority of Domesday-book, in point of tenure, hath never been permitted to be called in question; for instance, when it hath been necessary to distinguish whether lands were held in ancient demesne, or in what other manner, recourse hath always been had to Domesday-book, and to that only, to determine the doubt. If lands were set down in that book, under the title of "terra regis" (land of the king); or if it was said there, "rex habet" (the king holds it), such land, or such a town, it was

66

determined to be the king's ancient demesne. If the land or town was therein set down under the name of a private lord or subject, then it was determined to have been at the time of the survey the land of such private person, and not ancient demesne. Indeed, its name is said to have been derived from its definite authority, from which, as from the sentence pronounced at" Domesday," or the Day of Judgment," there could be no appeal. But Stowe assigns another reason for this appellation; "Domesday-book" being, according to him, a corruption of "Domus Dei-book""-a title given it because heretofore deposited in the king's treasury, in a place of the Church of Westminster, or Winchester, called " 'Domus-Dei" (the house of God); but this last explanation has but few advocates. This record is comprised in two volumes; one a large folio, the other a quarto. The first is written on 382 double pages of vellum, in a small, but plain character, each page having a double column. Some of the capital letters and principal passages are touched with red ink; and some have strokes of red ink run across them, as if scratched out. This volume contains the description of thirty-one counties, arranged and written as follows:

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Lindesig, or Lincolnshire, divided into the West Riding, North Riding, and East Riding

...

366

Towards the beginning of each country, there is a catalogue of the capital lords, or great landholders, who possessed anything in it; beginning with the king, and then naming the great lords according to their rank and dignity.

The other volume is in quarto; it is written on 450 double pages of vellum, but in a single column, and in a large but very fair character. It contains the counties Essex, fol. 1: Norfolk, fol. 109; Suffolk, fol. 281, to the end.

Part of the county of Rutland is included in that of Northampton; and part of Lancashire in the counties of York and Chester.

The pound, so often mentioned in Domesday-book, says Sir Robert Atkins, in his History of Gloucestershire, for reserved rent, was the weight of a pound in silver, consisting of twelve ounces, which is equal in weight to three pounds and two shillings of our present money; the same weight in gold is now worth forty-eight pounds.

The shilling, mentioned in the same book, consisted of twelvepence, and is equal in weight to three shillings of our money. The denomination of a shilling was of different value in different nations; and often of a different value in the same

ac

nation, as the Government thought fit to alter it. There was no such piece of money ever coined in this kingdom until the year 1504, in the latter end of the reign of King Henry the Seventh. In the Saxon times there went forty-eight shillings to the pound; then the shilling was counted at fivepence; and every one of these pence being of the weight of our threepence, a shilling, then, must make fifteen pence; and fortyeight times fifteenpence a pound weight. In the Norman time, and ever since, a shilling was accounted twelvepence; and every penny, as aforesaid, weighing threepence, there must be the weight of three of our shillings in one shilling of the Norman computation; and, consequently, twenty Norman shillings do likewise make a pound weight.

Silver pence were anciently the only current coin of England; and, afterwards, about the reign of King John, silver halfpence and silver farthings were introduced.

The

penny was the greatest piece of silver coin until the year 1353, when King Edward the Third began to coin groats; and they had their name from their large size, for gross did signify great. Crowns and half-crowns were first coined in the reign of King Edward the Sixth, in the year 1551, about two hundred and ninety years since.

It may not be improper to add, that a caracute, hide, or ploughland, was a certain quantity of about 120 acres. Grosse's Antiquities.

ON THE NATURE, CAUSES, AND USES OF THE TWILIGHT.

As the most sublime, and at the same time the most useful ideas result from reflecting on the wonders of the creation, it will not be an useless employment to consider attentively that light which whitens our horizon long before the sun, the immediate cause of it, makes his appearance. This order of nature has something surprising in it; for we see the light no otherwise than by the rays that flow to our eyes. Now the sun being as yet in that part of the heavens which

is hidden from us, and behind the other half of the earth, he cannot project any of his rays directly to us. He may, indeed, dart several of them upon the moon, or other planets, which will be reflected, as from a glass, and part of them sent back to us. The usefulness of this is worthy of our gratitude.

These benefits are increased by the atmosphere, which is framed and disposed over our heads in such a manner that, notwithstanding its exten

sive mass, it suffers us to see the stars that shine at an immense distance from us; and yet its density bends and gathers for us an infinite number of rays, of which we should otherwise be entirely deprived.

Any ray, or portion of light, that falls directly and perpendicularly on the atmosphere, enters it without any obstacle, and decends through it to the earth, in the same right line. But those which fall obliquely upon it are either admitted into, or repelled from it, according to the situation of the luminous body. If its obliquity be more than 18 degrees, that is, if the object be more than 18 degrees below the horizon, all the rays flowing from it are turned aside and lost in the immense extent of the heavens; but when the obliquity is less than 18 degrees, the rays enter the atmosphere and are refracted to our sight.

This is the true cause of the aurora, or dawn of day; and the same cause also produces its continuance and principal beauty, even when the sun is in his greatest degree of elevation, and casts on us all his heat. The earth, which receives these rays, beats them back on all sides; they ascend again into the atmosphere, which once more returns us the greatest part of them. Thus it makes them doubly useful, preserving to us that splendour which is the beauty of nature, and that heat which is the soul of it; for it gathers together an innumerable quantity of rays, the greater or lesser union of which is the measure of heat and cold. Thus, the atmosphere becomes to man a mantle of the finest texture, which, without making him sensible of the least weight, confines that vivifying heat which would otherwise soon be lost.

The atmosphere does, at the same time, cause and maintain around us that brisk and universal light which lays our whole habitation before our eyes, and which, though it be a necessary consequence of the irradiation of the sun on the atmosphere, yet is the work of the latter, rather than the production of the sun itself.

In order to elucidate this, which at first may appear a paradox, let us for

a moment suppose the atmosphere to be destroyed, and we shall be convinced that it must be productive of the following cousequences:-1st, the rising of the sun would not be preceded by any twilight, nor ushered in by the aurora, there being nothing to reflect towards us the least of his oblique rays; but the most intense darkness would surround us till the moment of his rising. 2nd, he would in an instant break out from under the horizon, show himself the same as he would appear towards the middle of his course, and would not in the least change his appearance till the instant of his setting, when it would be equally obscure with regard to us as in the middle of the darkest night. The sun, indeed, would strike our eyes with a lively brightness, but it would only resemble a clear fire, which we should see during the night in the midst of a spacious field. It would be day-light, if you will, for we should see the sun and the adjacent objects around us; but the rays which fell on such lands as are a little remote would be entirely lost in the vast expanse of the heavens. These lands would not be perceived, and the night would stiil continue, notwithstanding the fire of this bright and brilliant STAR. For, instead of the white tint or colour which characterizes the day and dis plays all nature, by brightening the azure of the heavens, we should see nothing but a black deep, an abyss of darkness, wherein the rays of the sun would meet with nothing capable of reflecting them to us. It is true, the number of objects would seem to be augmented in the heavens, and the stars would be seen at the same time with the sun; but it would always be dark, and the difference of that darkness and our night would consist in this, that those luminous bodies which now appear to be placed in a pleasing and delightful azure, would then seem to fasten on a dismal mourning-carpet.

It may perhaps be difficult to conceive how the destruction of the atmosphere carries with it the loss of that fine azure which adorns the heavens and delights the earth. But this will plainly appear, if it be con

sidered what a quantity of rarefied water is raised on high, and buoyed up from the highest part of the atmosphere down to us. There never is a greater quantity of it collected there than in the finest summer-days, when there are no clouds or vapours to be seen; thus, though these waters, higher than the region of the clouds, escape our senses, our reason points out their existence. It is among these gatherings of light and rarefied waters always suspended over our heads that all the rays of light reflected from the surface of the land meet; and the atmosphere sends them back to us from all parts. This prodigious mass of rarefied waters which surrounds us, being a simple and uniform body in its whole extent, the colour of it is always simple and constantly the same.

What are those azure-arched skies, which we confound with the starry heaven? are they, then, nothing more than a little air and water? and what we took for the heaven only a cover wrapped close round the earth? It is, indeed, nothing else; and this is a new wonder, which requires more

than a bare admiration. It is no less
than a complete demonstration of
our being the objects of our Creator's
tenderest affection. A few small bub-
bles of air and water are indeed, in
themselves, things very insignificant;
but the hand which has with so much
art and caution placed them over our
heads has done it merely that his
sun and stars might not be rendered
useless to us. He embellishes and
enriches whatever he pleases; and
these drops of water and air become
in his hands an inexhaustible source
of glory and happiness. He draws
from them those twilights which so
usefully prepare our eyes for receiving
a stronger light. He fetches out of
them the brightness of the aurora.
From them he produces that splen-
dour of the day which the sun of
himself could never procure us.
makes them contribute to the in-
crease and preservation of that heat
which nourishes everything breath-
ing. Of them he makes a brilliant
arch, which enchants the sight of
man on all sides, and becomes the
ceiling of his habitation.

He

THE ISLAND AND CAVE OF ELEPHANTA.

OVER against the castle of Bombay, about the distance of five miles, lies the very small but famous island of Elephanta. It cannot at most be but about three miles in compass, and consists of almost all hill: at the foot of which, as you land, you see, just above the shore, on your right, an elephant coarsely cut in stone, of the natural size, and at some little distance not impossible to be taken for a real elephant, from the stone being naturally of the colour of that beast. It stands on a platform of stones of the same colour. On the back of this elephant was placed, standing, another young one, appearing to have been all of the same stone. Of the meaning or history of this figure there is no tradition old enough to give any account.

Returning then to the foot of the hill, you ascend an easy slant, which, about half way up the hill, brings

you to the opening or portal of a large cavern, hewn out of a solid rock, into a magnificent temple; for such surely it may be termed, considering the immense workmanship of such an excavation, and seems to me a far more bold attempt than that of the pyramids of Egypt. There is a fair entrance into this subterraneous temple, which is an oblong square, in length about thirty yards by thirteen yards broad. The roof is nothing but the rock cut flat at the top, and in which I could not discern anything that did not show it to be all of one piece. It is about ten feet high, and supported towards the middle, at equi-distance from the sides, and from one another, with two regular rows of pillars of a singular order. They are very massive, short in proportion to their thickness, and their capital bears some resemblance to a round cushion, pressed by the superincum

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