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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c5f2eb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54557 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54557) diff --git a/old/54557-8.txt b/old/54557-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4e7f058..0000000 --- a/old/54557-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10652 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rough Ways Made Smooth, by Richard A. Proctor - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Rough Ways Made Smooth - A series of familiar essays on scientific subjects - -Author: Richard A. Proctor - -Release Date: April 17, 2017 [EBook #54557] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROUGH WAYS MADE SMOOTH *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Graeme Mackreth and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - -_ROUGH WAYS MADE SMOOTH_ - - - - - ROUGH WAYS MADE SMOOTH - - A SERIES OF - - Familiar Essays on Scientific Subjects - - BY - RICHARD A. PROCTOR - - [Illustration] - - _NEW IMPRESSION_ - - LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. - - 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON - - NEW YORK AND BOMBAY - - 1903 - - _All rights reserved_ - - - - - '_Let knowledge grow from more to more_' - - TENNYSON - - - - -PREFACE. - - -It is scarcely necessary for me to explain the plan of the present -work, because I have already--in introducing my 'Light Science -for Leisure Hours,' my 'Science Byways,' and my 'Pleasant Ways in -Science'--described the method on which, as I think, such treatises as -the present should be written. This work deals with similar subjects in -a similar way; but I think the experience I have acquired in writing -other works on the same plan has enabled me to avoid some defects in -the present work which I have recognised in the others. - -The list of subjects indicates sufficiently the range over which the -present volume extends. Some of them might be judged by their names to -be in no way connected with science, but it will be found that none -have been treated except in their scientific significance, though in -familiar and untechnical terms. - - RICHARD A. PROCTOR. - - S.S. 'ARIZONA,' IRISH SEA - _October 18, 1879._ - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - THE SUN'S CORONA AND HIS SPOTS 1 - - SUN-SPOTS AND COMMERCIAL PANICS 26 - - NEW PLANETS NEAR THE SUN 32 - - RESULTS OF THE BRITISH TRANSIT EXPEDITIONS 58 - - THE PAST HISTORY OF OUR MOON 81 - - A NEW CRATER IN THE MOON 98 - - THE NOVEMBER METEORS 111 - - EXPECTED METEOR SHOWER 117 - - COLD WINTERS 125 - - OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE ROWING 148 - - ROWING STYLES 169 - - ARTIFICIAL SOMNAMBULISM 178 - - HEREDITARY TRAITS 205 - - BODILY ILLNESS AS A MENTAL STIMULANT 236 - - DUAL CONSCIOUSNESS 259 - - ELECTRIC LIGHTING 289 - - - - -ROUGH WAYS MADE SMOOTH. - - - - -_THE SUN'S CORONA AND HIS SPOTS._ - - -One of the most important results of observations made upon the eclipse -of July 29, 1878, indicates the existence of a law of sympathy, so to -speak, between the solar corona and the sun-spots. The inquiry into -this relation seems to me likely to lead to a very interesting series -of researches, from which may possibly result an interpretation not -only of the relation itself, should it be found really to exist, but -of the mystery of the sun-spot period. I speak of the sun-spot period -as mysterious, because even if we admit (which I think we cannot do) -that the sun-spots are produced in some way by the action of the -planets upon the sun, it would still remain altogether a mystery -how this action operated. When all the known facts respecting the -sun-spots are carefully considered, no theory yet advanced respecting -them seems at all satisfactory, while no approach even has been -made to an explanation of their periodic increase and diminution in -number. This seems to me one of the most interesting problems which -astronomers have at present to deal with; nor do I despair of seeing -it satisfactorily solved within no very long interval of time. Should -the recognition of a sympathy between the corona and the sun-spots be -satisfactorily established, an important step in advance will have been -made,--possibly even the key to the enigma will be found to have been -discovered. - -I propose now to consider, first, whether the evidence we have on this -subject is sufficient, and afterwards to discuss some of the ideas -suggested by the relations which have been recognised as existing -between the sun-spots, the sierra, the coloured prominences, and the -zodiacal light. - -The evidence from the recent eclipses indicates beyond all possibility -of doubt or question, that during the years when sun-spots were -numerous, in 1870 and 1871, the corona, at least on the days of the -total solar eclipses in those years, presented an appearance entirely -different from that of the corona seen on July 29, 1878, when the sun -was almost free from spots. This will be more fully indicated further -on. At present it is necessary to notice only (1) that whereas in 1870 -and 1871 the inner corona extended at least 250,000 miles from the -sun, it reached only to a height of some 70,000 miles in 1878; (2) in -1870 and 1871 it possessed a very complicated structure, whereas in -1878 the definite structure could be recognised only in two parts of -the inner corona; (3) in 1871 the corona was pink, whereas in 1878 -it was pearly white; (4) the corona was ten times brighter in 1871 -than in 1878; lastly, in 1871 the light of the corona came in part -from glowing gas, whereas in July, 1878, the light came chiefly, if -not wholly, from glowing solid or liquid matter. I must here point -out, that the evidence of change, however satisfactory in itself, -would be quite insufficient to establish the general theory that the -corona sympathises with the solar photosphere in the special manner -suggested by the recent eclipse observations. There are few practices -more unscientific, or more likely to lead to erroneous theorising, than -that of basing a general theory on a small number of observations. -In this case we have, in fact, but a single observed correspondence, -though the observations establishing it form a series. It has been -shown that so far as the special sun-spot period from the minimum of -1867 to the minimum of 1878 is concerned, there has been a certain -correspondence between the aspect of the corona and the state of -the sun's surface, with regard to spots. To assume from that single -correspondence that the corona and the sun-spots are related in the -same way, would be hazardous in the extreme. We may indeed find, when -we consider other matters, that the probability of a general relation -of this sort existing is so great antecedently, that but slight direct -evidence would be required to establish the existence of the relation. -But it must be remembered that before the eclipse of 1878 was observed, -with the special result I have noticed, few were bold enough to assert -the probable existence of any such relationship; and certainly no one -asserted that the probability was very strong. I believe, indeed, that -no one spoke more definitely in favour of the theory that the corona -probably sympathises with the sun-spots than I did myself before the -recent eclipse; but certainly I should not then have been willing to -say that I considered the evidence very strong. - -We must then look for evidence of a more satisfactory kind. - -Now, although during the two centuries preceding the invention of the -spectroscope and the initiation of the solar physical researches now in -progress, observations of eclipses were not very carefully conducted, -yet we have some records of the appearance of the corona on different -occasions, which, combined with the known law of sun-spot periodicity, -may enable us to generalise more safely than we could from observations -during the present spot-period, though these observations have been far -more exact than the older ones. I propose to examine some of these. -Necessarily I must make some selection. I need hardly say that even -if there were no such relation as that which seems to be indicated by -recent observations, and if my purpose were simply to prove, either -that such a relation exists or that it does not, I could very readily -bring before the reader of these pages what would seem like the most -satisfactory evidence that the relation is real. I must ask him to -believe, however, that my purpose is to ascertain where the truth lies. -I shall neither introduce any observation of the corona because it -seems specially favourable to the theory that the corona sympathises -with the photosphere, nor omit any, because it seems definitely opposed -to that theory. To prevent any possibility of being unconsciously -prejudiced, I shall take a series of coronal observations collected -together by myself, on account of their intrinsic interest, several -years ago, when I had not in my thoughts any theory respecting periodic -changes in the corona--the series, namely, which is included in the -sixth chapter of my treatise on the sun. Each of these observations -I shall consider in connection with the known condition of the sun -as to spots, and those results which seem to bear _clearly_, whether -favourably or unfavourably, on the theory we are enquiring into, I -shall bring before the reader. - -Kepler, whose attention had been specially drawn to the subject of the -light seen round the sun during total eclipse, by certain statements -which Clavius had made respecting the eclipse of 1567, describes the -eclipse of 1605 in the following terms:--'The whole body of the sun -was completely covered for a short time, but around it there shone a -brilliant light of a reddish hue and uniform breadth, which occupied a -considerable portion of the heavens.' The corona thus seen may fairly -be assumed to have resembled in extent that of 1871. A bright corona, -reaching like that seen during the eclipse of July 1878 to a height -of only about 70,000 miles from the sun's surface, would certainly -not have been described by Kepler as occupying a considerable portion -of the heavens, for a height of 70,000 miles would correspond only to -about a twelfth of the sun's diameter; and a ring so narrow would be -described very differently. It seems, then, that in 1605 a corona was -seen which corresponded with that observed when the sun has had many -spots on his surface. Now we have no record of the condition of the -sun with regard to spots in 1605; but we know that the year 1615 was -one of many spots, and the year 1610 one of few spots; whence we may -conclude safely that the year 1605 was one of many spots. This case -then is in favour of the theory we are examining. - -In passing we may ask whether the observation by Clavius which had -perplexed Kepler, may not throw some light on our subject. Clavius says -that the eclipse of 1567 which should have been total was annular. The -usual explanation of this has been that the corona was intensely bright -close to the sun. And though Kepler considered that his own observation -of a broad reddish corona satisfactorily removed Clavius's difficulty, -it seems tolerably clear that the corona seen by Clavius must have -been very unlike the corona seen by Kepler. In fact the former must -have been like the corona seen in July, 1878, much smaller than the -average, but correspondingly increased in lustre. Now with regard to -the sun-spot period we can go back to the year 1567, though not quite -so securely as we could wish. Taking the average sun-spot period at -eleven years, and calculating back from the minimum of spots in the -year 1610, we get four years of minimum solar disturbance, 1599, 1588, -1577, and 1566. We should have obtained the same result if we had used -the more exact period, eleven one-ninth years, and had taken 1610·8 for -the epoch of least solar disturbance (1610·8 meaning about the middle -of October, 1610). Thus the year 1567 was a year of few sun-spots, -probably occupying almost exactly the same position in the sun spot -period as the year 1878. Clavius's observation, then, is in favour of -our theory. - -But another observation between Clavius's and Kepler's may here be -noticed. Jensenius, who observed the eclipse of 1598 at Torgau in -Germany, noticed that, at the time of mid-totality, a bright light -shone round the moon. On this occasion, remarks Grant, the phenomenon -was generally supposed to arise from a defect in the totality of the -eclipse, though Kepler strenuously contended that such an explanation -was at variance with the relation between the values of the apparent -diameters of the sun and moon as computed for the time of the eclipse -by aid of the solar and lunar tables. The corona, then, must have -resembled that seen by Clavius, and since the year 1598 must have been -very near the time of fewest spots, this observation accords with the -theory we are examining. - -The next observation is that made by Wyberd during the eclipse of 1652. -Here there is a difficulty arising from the strange way in which the -sun-spots behaved during the interval from 1645 to 1679. According -to M. Wolf, whose investigation of the subject has been very close -and searching, there was a maximum of sun-spots in 1639 followed -by a minimum in 1645, the usual interval of about six years having -elapsed; but there came a maximum in 1655, ten years later, followed -by a minimum in 1666, eleven years later, so that actually twenty-one -years would seem to have elapsed between successive minima (1645 and -1666). Then came a maximum in 1675, nine years later, and a minimum in -1679, four years later. Between the maxima of 1639 and 1675, including -two spot periods, an interval of thirty-six years elapsed. There is -no other instance on record, so far as I know, of so long an interval -as this for two spot-periods. In passing, I would notice how little -this circumstance accords with the theory that the sun-spots follow -an exact law, or that from observations of the sun, means can ever be -found for forming a trustworthy system of weather prediction, even if -we assumed (which has always seemed to me a very daring assumption), -that terrestrial weather is directly dependent on the progress of the -sun-spot period. But here the irregularity of the spot changes affects -us only as preventing us from determining or even from guessing what -may have been the condition of the sun's surface in the year 1652. -This year followed by seven years a period of minimum disturbance, and -preceded by three years a period of maximum disturbance; but it would -be unsafe to assume that the sun's condition in 1652 was nearer that -of maximum than that of minimum disturbance. We must pass over Wyberd's -observations of the corona in 1652, at least until some direct evidence -as to the sun's condition shall have been obtained from the papers or -writings of the observers of that year. I note only that Wyberd saw a -corona of very limited extent, having indeed a height not half so great -as that of many prominences which have been observed during recent -eclipses. If the theory we are examining should be established beyond -dispute, we should be led to infer that the year 1652 was in reality -a year of minimum solar disturbance. Perhaps by throwing in such a -minimum between 1645 and 1666, with of course a corresponding maximum, -the wild irregularity of the sun-spot changes between 1645 and 1679 -would be to some degree diminished. - -We are now approaching times when more satisfactory observations were -made upon the corona, and when also we have more complete records of -the aspect of the sun's surface. - -In 1706 Plantade and Capies saw a bright ring of white light extending -round the eclipsed sun to a distance of about 85,000 miles, but merging -into a fainter light, which extended no less than four degrees from -the eclipsed sun, fading off insensibly until its light was lost in -the obscure background of the sky. This corresponds unmistakably -with such a corona as we should expect only to see at a time of many -sun-spots, if the theory we are examining is sound. Turning to Wolf's -list, we find that the year 1705 is marked as a year of maximum solar -disturbance, and the year 1712 as that of the next minimum. Therefore -1706 was a year of many sun-spots--in fact, 1706 may have been the year -of actual maximum disturbance, for it is within the limits of doubt -indicated by Wolf. Certainly a corona extending so far as that which -Plantade and Capies saw would imply an altogether exceptional degree of -solar disturbance, if the theory we are considering is correct. - -In 1715 Halley gave the following description of the corona:--'A few -seconds before the sun was all hid, there discovered itself round the -moon a luminous ring about a digit' (a twelfth) 'or perhaps a tenth -part of the moon's diameter in breadth. It was of a pale whiteness or -rather pearl colour, seeming to me a little tinged with the colours -of the Iris, and to be concentric with the moon.' He added that the -ring appeared much whiter and brighter near the body of the moon -than at a distance from it, and that its exterior boundary was very -ill-defined, seeming to be determined only by the extreme rarity of -the luminous matter. The French astronomer Louville gave a similar -account of the appearance of the ring. He added, however, that 'there -were interruptions in its brightness, causing it to resemble the -radial glory with which painters encircle the heads of the saints.' -The smallness of the corona on this occasion corresponds with the -description of the corona seen in July 1878; and though Louville's -description of gaps is suggestive of a somewhat different aspect, -yet, on the whole, the corona seen in 1715 more closely resembles -one which would be seen at a time of minimum solar disturbance, if -our theory can be trusted, than one which would be seen at a time of -maximum disturbance. Wolf's list puts the year 1712 as one of minimum -disturbance, with one year of doubt either way, and the middle of the -year 1817 as the epoch of maximum disturbance, with a similar range of -uncertainty. The case, then, is doubtful, but on the whole inclines -to being unfavourable. I may remark that because of its unfavourable -nature, I departed from the rule I had set myself, of taking only the -cases included in my treatise on the sun. For the corona of 1715 is not -described in that treatise, as indeed affording no evidence respecting -this solar appendage. The evidence given in this case is probably -affected in some degree by the unfavourable atmospheric conditions -under which Halley certainly, and Louville probably, observed the -eclipse. In any case the evidence is not strong; only I would call -attention here to the circumstance that if, as we proceed, we _should_ -come to a case in which the evidence is plainly against the theory -we are examining, we must give up the theory at once. For one case -of discordance does more to destroy a theory respecting association -between such and such phenomena, than a hundred cases of agreement -would do in the way of confirming it. - -In 1724, Maraldi noticed that the corona was broadest first on the side -towards which the moon was advancing, and afterwards on the side which -the moon was leaving. From this we may infer that the corona was only a -narrow ring on that occasion, since otherwise the slight difference of -breadth due to the moon's eccentric position at the beginning and end -of totality would not have been noticeable. Now, the year 1723 was one -of minimum disturbance, with one year of doubt either way. Thus 1724 -was certainly a year of few sun-spots, and may have been the actual -year of minimum disturbance. The corona then presented an appearance -according with the theory we are considering. - -Few eclipses have been better observed than that of the year 1733. -The Royal Society of Sweden invited all who could spare the time to -assist, as far as their ability permitted, in recording the phenomena -presented during totality. The pastor of Stona Malm states that at -Catherinesholm, there was a ring around the sun about 70,000 miles in -height. (Of course these are not his exact words; what he actually -stated was that the ring was about a digit in breadth.) This is the -exact height assigned to the coronal ring by the observers of the -eclipse of last year. The ring seemed to be of a reddish colour. -Another clergyman, Vallerius, states also that the ring was of this -colour, but adds that at a considerable distance from the sun it had -a greenish hue. This suggests the idea that the outer corona was seen -also by Vallerius, and that it had considerable breadth. The reddish -colour of the inner light portion would correspond to the colour it -would have if it consisted in the main of glowing hydrogen. If that -really was its constitution, then the theory advanced by one observer -of the last eclipse, that at the time of minimum solar disturbance the -glowing hydrogen is withdrawn from the corona, would be shown to be -incorrect. For 1733 was the actual year of minimum solar disturbance. -The pastor of Smoland states that 'during the total obscuration the -edge of the moon's disc resembled gilded brass, and the faint ring -round it emitted rays in an upward as well as in a downward direction, -similar to those seen beneath the sun when a shower of rain is -impending.' The mathematical lecturer of the Academy of Charles-stadt, -M. Edstrom, observed these rays with special attention: he says that -'they plainly maintained the same position, until they vanished along -with the ring upon the re-appearance of the sun.' On the other hand, -at Lincopia no rays were seen. On the whole it seems clear from the -accounts of this eclipse that the inner corona was bright and narrow; -rays issued from the outer faint ring; but they were very delicate -phenomena, easily concealed by atmospheric haze, and thus were not -everywhere observed. As rays were seen in July 1878, there is nothing -in the evidence afforded by the eclipse of 1733, occurring at a time -of few spots, which opposes itself definitely to the theory we are -considering. But the reddish colour of the corona as already noticed -is a doubtful feature: in July, 1878, the bright inner corona was of a -pearl colour and lustre. - -During the eclipse of February, 1766, the corona presented four -luminous expansions, and seems to have presented a greater expansion -than we should expect in a year of minimum solar disturbance. Such, -however, the year 1766 certainly was. The evidence in this case is -unfavourable to our theory--not quite decisively so, but strongly. -For we should expect that in the year of actual minimum disturbance -the corona would be even narrower than in the year 1878, which was -the year following that of least disturbance. And again, a strongly -distinctive feature in the corona of July, 1878, was the absence of -wide expansions, such as were seen in 1870 and 1871. Now if this -peculiarity should really be attributed to the relation existing -between the corona and the sun-spots, we should infer that in 1766 -the corona would have been still more markedly uniform in shape. The -existence of four well marked expansions on that occasion forces us -to assume that either the relation referred to has no real existence, -or else that the corona may change from week to week as the condition -of the sun's surface changes, and that in February, 1766, the sun was -temporarily disturbed, though the year, as a whole, was one of minimum -disturbance. But as the epoch of actual minimum was the middle of 1766, -February 1766 should have been a time of very slight disturbance. I -do not know of any observations of the sun recorded for the month of -February, 1766. On the whole, the eclipse of 1766 must be regarded as -throwing grave doubt on the relation assumed by our theory as existing -between the corona and the sun-spots; and as tending to suggest -that some wider law must be in question than the one we have been -considering--if any association really exists. - -The account given by Don Antonio d'Ulloa of the appearance presented -by the corona during the total eclipse of 1778, is rendered doubtful -by his reference to an apparent rotatory motion of the normal rays. -He says that about five or six seconds after totality had begun, a -brilliant luminous ring was seen around the dark body of the moon. -The ring became brighter as the middle of totality approached. 'About -the middle of the eclipse, the breadth of the ring was equal to -about a sixth of the moon's diameter. There seemed to issue from it -a great number of rays of unequal length, which could be discerned -to a distance equal to the moon's diameter.' Then comes the part of -d'Ulloa's description which seems difficult to accept. He says that the -corona 'seemed to be endued with a rapid rotatory motion, which caused -it to resemble a firework turning round its centre.' The colour of -the light, he proceeds, 'was not uniform throughout the whole breadth -of the ring. Towards the margin of the moon's disc it appeared of a -reddish hue; then it changed to a pale yellow, and from the middle -to the outer border the yellow gradually became fainter, until at -length it seemed almost quite white.' Setting aside the rays and their -rotation, d'Ulloa's account of the inner corona may be accepted as -satisfactory. The height of this ring was, it seems, about 140,000 -miles, or twice that of the ring seen in July 1878. As the year 1779 -was one of maximum solar disturbance, there were doubtless many spots -in 1778; and the aspect of the corona accorded well with the theory -that the corona expands as the number of sun-spots increases. - -We come now to three eclipses which are especially interesting as -having been all carefully observed, some observers having seen all -three,--the eclipses, namely, of 1842, 1851, and 1860. Unfortunately -the eclipses of 1842 and 1851 occurred when the sun-spots were neither -at their greatest nor at their least degree of frequency. For a maximum -of sun-spots occurred in 1837, and a minimum in 1844, so that 1842 was -on what may be called the descending slope of a sun-spot wave, nearer -the hollow than the crest, but not very near either: again, a maximum -occurred in 1848, and a minimum in 1856, so that 1851 was also on the -descending slope of a sun-spot wave, rather nearer the crest than the -hollow, but one may fairly say about midway between them. Still it is -essential in an inquiry of this sort to consider intermediate cases. -We must not only apply the _comparentia ad intellectum instantiarum -convenientium_, but also the _comparentia instantiarum secundum magis -ac minus_. If the existence of great solar disturbances causes the -corona to be greatly enlarged, as compared with the corona seen when -the sun shows no spots, we should expect to find the corona moderately -enlarged only when the sun shows a considerable but not the maximum -number of spots. And again, it is conceivable that we may find some -noteworthy difference between the aspect of the corona when sun-spots -are diminishing in number, and its aspect when they are increasing. -This point seems the more to need investigation when we note that -the evidence derived from eclipses occurring near the time either -of maximum or of minimum solar disturbance has not been altogether -satisfactory. It may be that we may find an explanation of the -discrepancies we have recognised, in some distinction between the state -of the corona when spots are increasing and when they are diminishing -in number. - -It is noteworthy that several careful observers of the corona in 1842 -believed that they could recognise motion in the coronal rays. Francis -Baily compared the appearance of the corona to the flickering light of -a gas illumination. O. Struve also was much struck by the appearance of -violent agitation in the light of the ring. It seems probable that the -appearance was due to movements in that part of our atmosphere through -which the corona was observed. The extent of the corona was variously -estimated by different observers. Petit, at Montpelier, assigned to -it a breadth corresponding to a height of about 200,000 miles; Baily -a height of about 500,000 miles; and O. Struve a height of more than -800,000 miles. The last-named observer also recognised luminous -expansions extending fully four degrees (corresponding to nearly seven -million miles) from the sun. Picozzi, at Milan, noticed two jets of -light, which were seen also by observers in France. Rays also were seen -by Mauvais at Perpignan, and by Baily at Paria. But Airy, observing the -corona from the Superga, could see no radiation; he says 'although a -slight radiation might have been perceptible, it was not sufficiently -intense to affect in a sensible degree the annular structure by which -the luminous appearance was plainly distinguished.' These varieties -in the aspect of the corona were doubtless due to varieties in the -condition of the atmosphere through which the corona was seen. Now it -cannot be questioned that, so far as extension is concerned, the corona -seen in 1842 was one which, if the theory we are considering were -sound, we should expect to see near the time of maximum rather than of -minimum solar disturbance. On the other hand, in brightness the corona -of 1842 resembled, if it did not surpass, that of July 1878. - -'I had imagined,' says Baily, 'that the corona, as to its brilliant or -luminous appearance, would not be greater than that faint crepuscular -light which sometimes takes place (_sic_) in a summer evening, and -that it would encircle the moon like a ring. I was therefore somewhat -surprised and astonished at the splendid scene which now so suddenly -burst upon my view.' - -The light of the corona was so bright, O. Struve states, that the naked -eye could scarcely endure it; 'many could not believe, indeed, that the -eclipse was total, so strongly did the corona's light resemble direct -sunlight.' Thus while as to extent the corona in 1842 presented the -appearance to be expected at the time of maximum solar disturbance, if -our theory is sound, its brightness was that corresponding to a time -of minimum disturbance. Its structure corresponded with the former -condition. The light of the corona was not uniform, nor merely marked -by radiations, but in several places interlacing lines of light could -be seen. Arago, at Perpignan, observed with the unaided eye a region -of the corona where the structure was as of intertwined jets giving an -appearance resembling a hank of thread in disorder. - -Certainly, for an eclipse occurring two years from the time of minimum, -and five years from the time of maximum disturbance, that of July, -1842,[1] has not supplied evidence favouring the theory with which we -started. Whether any other theory of association between the corona and -the sun-spots will better accord with the evidence hitherto collected -remains to be seen. - -Turn we now to the eclipse of 1851, occurring nearly midway between -the epochs of maximum solar disturbance (1848) and minimum solar -disturbance (1856). I take the account given by Airy, our Government -astronomer, as he was one of the observers of the eclipse of 1842. - -'The corona was far broader,' he says, 'than that which I saw in -1842. Roughly speaking, the breadth was little less than the moon's -diameter, but its outline was very irregular. I did not notice any -beams projecting from it which deserved notice as much more conspicuous -than the others; but the whole was beamy, radiated in structure, and -terminated--though very indefinitely--in a way which reminded me of the -ornament frequently placed round a mariner's compass. Its colour was -white, or resembling that of Venus. I saw no flickering or unsteadiness -of light. It was not separated from the moon by any interval, nor had -it any annular structure. It looked like a radiated luminous cloud -behind the moon.' - -The corona thus described belongs to that which our theory associates -with the period of maximum rather than of minimum solar disturbance. -Definite peculiarities of structure seem to have been more numerous and -better marked than in 1842. It accords with our theory that 1851 was -a year of greater solar disturbance than was observed in 1842, as the -following numbers show:-- - - Days of Days without New groups - observation spots observed - 1842 307 64 68 - 1851 308 0 141 - 1860 332 0 211 - -I have included the year 1860, as we now proceed to consider the corona -then seen by Airy. The year 1860 did not differ very markedly, it will -be observed, from 1851, as regards the number of new groups of spots -observed by Schwabe, especially when account is taken of the number of -days in which the sun was observed in these two years. But 1860 was a -year of maximum solar disturbance, whereas 1851 was not.[2] - -Airy remarks of the corona in 1860:--'It gave a considerable body, -but I did not remark either by eye-view or by telescope-view -anything annular in its structure; it appeared to me to resemble, -with some irregularities (as I stated in 1851), the ornament round a -compass-card.' - -Bruhns of Leipsic noted that the corona shone with an intense white -light, so lustrous as to dim the protuberances. He noticed that a ray -shot out to a distance of about one degree indicating a distance of at -least 1,500,000 miles from the sun's surface. This was unquestionably -a coronal appendage as neither the direction nor the length of the ray -varied for ten seconds, during which Bruhns directed his attention to -it. Its light was considerably feebler than that of the corona, which -was of a glowing white, and seemed to coruscate or twinkle. Bruhns -assigned to the inner corona a height varying from about 40,000 to -about 80,000 miles. But this was unquestionably far short of the true -height. In fact, Secchi's photographs show the corona extending to -a distance of at least 175,000 miles from the surface of the sun. -Therefore probably what Bruhns calls the base of the corona was in -reality only the prominence region, and the inner corona was that which -he describes as varying in breadth or height from nearly one-half to -a quarter of a degree--that is from about 800,000 to about 400,000 -miles. De la Rue gives a somewhat similar general description of the -corona seen in 1860. He remarks that it was extremely bright near the -moon's body, and of a silvery whiteness. The picture of the corona by -Feilitsch (given at p. 343 of my book on the Sun) accords with these -descriptions. - -On the whole, the eclipse of 1860 affords evidence according well with -the theory we have been considering, except as regards the brightness -and the colour of the corona, which correspond more closely with what -was observed in July, 1878, with the lustre and colour of the corona -in 1870 and 1871. In this respect, it is singular that the eclipse of -1867, which occurred (see preceding note) when the sun spots were fewer -in number, presented a decided contrast to that of 1860,--the contrast -being, however, precisely the reverse of that which our theory would -require, if the colour and brightness of the corona be considered -essential features of any law of association. - -Herr Grosch, describing the corona of 1867, says, 'There appeared -around the moon a reddish glimmering light similar to that of the -aurora, and almost simultaneously with this (I mean very shortly after -it) the corona.' It is clear, however, from what follows, that the -reddish light was what is now commonly called the inner corona, which -last July, when the sun was in almost exactly the same condition as -regards the spots, was pearly white and intensely bright. 'This reddish -glimmer,' he proceeds, 'which surrounded the moon with a border of the -breadth of at most five minutes' (about 140,000 miles) 'was not sharply -bounded in any part, but was extremely diffused and less distinct in -the neighbourhood of the poles.' Of the outer corona he remarks that -'its apparent height amounted to about 280,000 miles opposite the -solar poles, but opposite the polar equator to about 670,000 miles. Its -light was white. This white light was not in the least radiated itself, -but it had the appearance of rays penetrating through it; or rather as -if rays ran over it, forming symmetrical pencils diverging outwards, -and passing far beyond the boundary of the white light. These rays had -a more bluish appearance, and might best be compared to those produced -by a great electro-magnetic light. Their similarity to these, indeed, -was so striking, that under other circumstances I should have taken -them for such, shining at a great distance. The view of the corona I -have described is that seen with the naked eye.... In the white light -of the corona, close upon the moon's edge, there appeared several dark -curves. They were symmetrically arched towards the east and west, -sharply drawn, and resembling in tint lines drawn with a lead pencil -upon white paper.... Beginning at a distance of one minute (about -26,000 miles), they could be traced up to a distance of about nine -minutes (some 236,000 miles) from the moon's edge.' - -Almost all the features observed in this case correspond closely with -those noted and photographed during the eclipse of December, 1871. -In other words the corona seen in 1867, when the sun was passing -through the period of least solar disturbance, closely resembled the -corona seen in 1871, when the sun was nearly in its stage of greatest -disturbance. Even the spectroscopic evidence obtained in 1871 and July, -1878, may be so extended as to show with extreme probability what would -have been seen in 1867 if spectroscopic analysis had then been applied. -We cannot doubt that the reddish inner corona, extending to a height of -about 140,000 miles, would have been found under spectroscopic analysis -to shine in part with the light of glowing hydrogen, as the reddish -corona of 1871 did. The white corona of July, 1878, on the contrary, -shone only with such light as comes from glowing solid or liquid -matter. Here then, again, the evidence is unfavourable to our theory; -for the corona in 1867 should have closely resembled the corona of -1878, if this theory were sound. - -It would be idle, I think, to seek for farther evidence either in -favour of the theory we originally proposed to discuss, or against it: -for the evidence of the eclipse of 1867 disposes finally of the theory -in that form. I may note in passing that the eclipse of 1868 gave -evidence almost equally unfavourable to the theory, while the evidence -given by the eclipse of 1869 was neutral. It will be desirable, -however, to consider, before concluding our inquiry, the evidence -obtained in 1871 and last July, in order that we may see what, after -all, that evidence may be regarded as fairly proving with regard to -coronal variations. - -First, however, as I have considered two eclipses which occurred when -the sun spots were decreasing in number--namely, those of 1842 and -1851, midway (roughly speaking) between the crest and hollow of the -sun-spot wave on its descending slope, it may be well to consider an -eclipse which was similarly situated with respect to the ascending -slope of a sun-spot wave. I take, then, the eclipse of 1858, as seen in -Brazil by Liais. The picture drawn by this observer is one of the most -remarkable views of the corona ever obtained. It is given at p. 339 of -my book on the Sun. Formerly it was the custom to deride this drawing, -but since the eclipse of 1871, when the corona was photographed, it -has been admitted that Liais's drawing may be accepted as thoroughly -trustworthy. It shows a wonderfully complex corona, like that of 1871, -extending some 700,000 miles from the sun, and corresponding in all -respects with such a corona as our theory (if established) would have -associated with the stage of maximum solar disturbance. As in this -respect the eclipse of 1858, when sun-spots were increasing, resembled -those of 1842 and 1851, when sun-spots were diminishing in number, -we find no trace of any law of association depending on the rate of -increase or diminution of solar disturbance. - -If we limited our attention to the eclipses of 1871 and of July, 1878, -we should unquestionably be led to adopt the belief that the corona -during a year of many spots differs markedly from the corona when the -sun shows few spots, or none. So far as the aspect of the corona is -concerned, I take the description given by the same observer in both -cases, as the comparison is thus freed as far as possible from the -effect of personal differences. - -Mr. Lockyer recognised in 1871 a corona resembling a star-like -decoration, with its rays arranged almost symmetrically--three -above and three below two dark spaces or rifts at the extremity of -a horizontal diameter. The rays were built up of innumerable bright -lines of different length, with more or less dark spaces between -them. Near the sun this structure was lost in the brightness of the -central ring, or inner corona. In the telescope he saw thousands of -interlacing filaments, varying in intensity. The rays so definite -to the eye were not seen in the telescope. The complex structure of -interlacing filaments could be traced only to a height of some five or -six minutes (from 135,000 to 165,000 miles) from the sun, there dying -out suddenly. The spectroscope showed that the inner corona, to this -height at least (but Respighi's spectroscopic observations prove the -same for a much greater distance from the sun), was formed in part -of glowing gas--hydrogen--and the vapour of some as yet undetermined -substance, shining with light of a green tint, corresponding to -1474 of Kirchhoff's scale. But also a part of the coronal light -came from matter which reflected sunlight; for its spectrum was the -rainbow-tinted streak crossed by dark lines, which we obtain from any -object illuminated by the sun's rays. It should be added that the -photographs of the corona in 1871 show the three great rays above and -three below, forming the appearance as of a star-like decoration, -described by Mr. Lockyer; insomuch as it is rather strange to find Mr. -Lockyer remarking that 'the difference between the photographic and -the visible corona came out strongly, ... and the non solar origin of -the radial structure was conclusively established.' The resemblance -is, indeed, not indicated in the rough copy of the photographs which -illustrates Mr. Lockyer's paper; but it is clearly seen in the -photographs themselves, and in the fine engraving which has been formed -from them for the illustration of the volume which the Astronomical -Society proposes to issue (some time in the present century, perhaps). - -Now, in July, 1878, the corona presented an entirely different -appearance. Mr. Lockyer, in a telegram sent to the _Daily News_, -describes it as small, of pearly lustre, and having indications of -definite structure in two places only. Several long rays were seen; but -the inner corona was estimated as extending to a height of about 70,000 -miles from the sun's surface. The most remarkable change, however, -was that which had taken place in the character of the corona's -spectrum--or, in other words, in the physical structure of the corona. -The bright lines or bright images of the inner corona (according as -it was examined through a slit or without one) were not seen in July, -1878, showing that no part, or at least no appreciable part, of its -light came from glowing gaseous matter. But also the dark lines seen by -Janssen in 1871 were wanting on this occasion, showing that the corona -did not shine appreciably by reflecting sunlight. The spectrum was, in -fine, a continuous rainbow-tinted streak, such as that given by glowing -solid or liquid matter. - -The inference clearly is: 1. That in July, 1878, the gaseous matter -which had been present in the corona in 1871 was either entirely absent -or greatly reduced in quantity; 2. The particles of solid or liquid -(but probably solid) matter which, by reflecting sunlight, produced a -considerable portion of the corona's light in 1871, were glowing with -heat in July, 1878, and shone in the main with this inherent light; -and 3. The entire corona was greatly reduced in size in July, 1878, as -compared with that which formed the 'star-like decoration' around the -black body of the moon in December, 1871. - -We cannot, however, accept the theory that such a corona as was seen -in 1871 invariably surrounds the sun in years of great disturbance, -while the corona of last month is the typical corona for years of -small solar disturbance. The generalisation is flatly contradicted -by the evidence which I have presented in the preceding pages. It -may be that such a corona as was seen in 1871 is common in years of -great disturbance, just as spots are then more common, though not -always present; while such a corona as was seen in July, 1878, is more -common in years of small disturbance, just as days when the sun is -wholly without spots are then more common, though from time to time -several spots, and sometimes very large spots, are seen in such years. -On the whole, I think the evidence I have collected favours rather -strongly the inference that an association of this sort really exists -between the corona and the sun-spots. It would, however, be unsafe at -present to generalise even to this extent; while certainly the wide -generalisation telegraphed to Europe from America as the great result -of the eclipse observations in July, 1878, must unhesitatingly be -rejected. - -It remains to be considered how science may hope to obtain more -trustworthy evidence than we yet have respecting the corona and its -changes of form, extent, lustre, and physical constitution. In the case -of the prominences, we have the means of making systematic observations -on every fine, clear day. It has been, indeed, through observations -thus effected by the spectroscopic method that an association has been -recognised between the number, size, and brilliancy of the prominences -on the one hand, and the number, size, and activity of the sun-spots -on the other. But in the case of the corona, we are as yet unable to -make any observations except at the time of total solar eclipse. It -seems almost impossible to hope that any means can be devised for -seeing the corona at any other time. Of course, without the aid of the -spectroscope the corona, as ordinarily seen during total eclipses, must -be entirely invisible when the sun is shining in full splendour. No one -acquainted with even the merest elements of optics could hope to see -the corona with an ordinary telescope at such a time. The spectroscope, -again, would not help in the slightest degree to show such a corona as -was shining in July, 1878. For the power of the spectroscope to show -objects which under ordinary conditions are invisible, depends on the -separation of rays of certain tints from the rays of all the colours -of the rainbow, which make up solar light; and as the corona in July, -1878, shone with all the colours of the rainbow, and not with certain -special tints, the power of the spectroscope would be thrown away on a -corona of that kind. All that we can ever hope to do is to discern the -gaseous corona when, as in 1871, it is well developed, by spectroscopic -appliances more effective for that purpose than any which have hitherto -been adopted; for all which have as yet been adopted have failed. - -Now, the difficulty of the problem will be recognised when we remember -that the strongest tints of the corona's light--the green tint -classified as 1474 Kirchhoff--has been specially but ineffectually -searched for in the sun's neighbourhood with the most powerful -spectroscopic appliances yet employed in the study of the coloured -prominences. In other words, when the light of our own air over the -region occupied by the corona has been diluted as far as possible -by spectroscopic contrivances, the strongest of the special coronal -tints has yet failed to show through the diluted spectrum of the sky. -Again, we have even stronger evidence of the difficulty of the task in -the spectroscopic observations made by Respighi during the eclipse of -1871. The instrument, or I should rather, perhaps, say the arrangement, -which during mid totality showed the green image of the corona to a -height of about 280,000 miles, did not show any green ring at all at -the beginning of totality. In other words, so faint is the light of the -gaseous corona, even at its brightest part, close to the sun, that the -faint residual atmospheric light which illuminates the sky over the -eclipsed sun at the beginning of totality sufficed to obliterate this -part of the coronal light. - -Whether with any combination specially directed to meet the -difficulties of this observation, the gaseous corona can be rendered -discernible, remains to be seen. I must confess my own hopes that the -problem will ever be successfully dealt with are very slight, though -not absolutely evanescent. It seems to me barely possible that the -problem might be successfully attacked in the following way. Using a -telescope of small size, for the larger the telescope the fainter is -the image (because of greater loss of light by absorption), let the -image of the sun be received in a small, perfectly darkened camera -attached to the eye-end of the telescope. Now if the image of the sun -were received on a smooth white surface we know that the prominences -and the corona would not be visible. And again, if the part of such -a surface on which the image of the sun itself fell were exactly -removed, we know (the experiment has been tried by Airy) that the -prominences would not be seen on the ring of white surface left after -such excision. Still less, then, would the much fainter image of the -corona be seen. But if this ring of white surface, illuminated in -reality by the sky, by the ring of prominences and sierra, and by -the corona, were examined through a battery of prisms (used without -a slit) adjusted to any one of the known prominence tints, the ring -of prominences and sierra would be seen in that special tint. If the -battery of prisms were sufficiently effective, and the tint were one of -the hydrogen tints--preferably, perhaps, the red--we might possibly be -able to trace the faint image of the corona in that tint. But we should -have a better chance with the green tint corresponding to the spectral -line 1474 Kirchhoff. If the ring of white surface were replaced by a -ring of green surface, the tint being as nearly that of 1474 Kirchhoff -as possible, the chance of seeing the coronal ring in that tint would -be somewhat increased; and, still further, perhaps, if the field of -view were examined through green glass of the same tint. It seems just -possible that if prisms of triple height were used, through which the -rays were carried three times, by an obvious modification of the usual -arrangement for altering the level of the rays, thus giving a power of -eighteen flint glass prisms of sixty degrees each, evidence, though -slight perhaps, might be obtained of the presence of the substance -which produces the green line. Thus variations in the condition of -the corona might be recognised, and any law affecting such variations -might be detected. I must confess, however, that a consideration of -the optical relations involved in the problem leads me to regard the -attempt to recognise any traces of the corona when the sun is not -eclipsed as almost hopeless. - -It is clear that until some method for thus observing the corona has -been devised, future eclipse observations will acquire a new interest -from the light which they may throw on the coronal variations, and -their possible association in some way, not as yet detected, with the -sun-spot period. Even when a method has been devised for observing the -gaseous corona, the corona whose light comes either directly or by -reflection from solid or liquid matter will still remain undiscernible -save only during total eclipses of the sun. Many years must doubtless -pass, then, before the relation of the corona to the prominences and -the sun-spots shall be fully recognised. But there can be no question -that the solution of this problem will be well worth waiting for, even -though it should not lead up (as it most probably will) to the solution -of the mystery of the periodic changes which affect the surface of the -sun. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 1: The actual condition of the sun in 1842 may be inferred -from the following table, showing the number of spots observed in 1837 -the preceding year of maximum disturbance, in 1842, and in 1844 the -following year of minimum disturbance; the observer was Schwabe of -Dessau: - - Days of Days without New groups - observation spots observed - 1837 168 0 333 - 1842 307 64 68 - 1844 321 111 52 - -Only it should be noticed that nearly all the spots seen in the year -1844 belonged to the next period, the time of actual minimum occurring -early in 1844.] - -[Footnote 2: The following table shows the position occupied by the -years 1851 and 1860 in this report, as compared with the year 1848 -(maximum next preceding 1851), 1856 (minimum next following 1851) and -1867, minimum next following 1860:-- - - Days of Days without New groups - observation spots observed - 1848 278 0 930 - 1851 308 0 141 - 1856 321 193 34 - 1860 332 0 211 - 1867 312 195 25 - - A comparison of the three tables given in these notes and the text will - afford some idea of the irregularities existing in the various waves of - sun-spots.] - - - - -_SUN-SPOTS AND COMMERCIAL PANICS._ - - -We are not only, it would seem, to regard the sun as the ultimate -source of all forms of terrestrial energy, existent or potential, but -as regulating in a much more special manner the progress of mundane -events. Many years have passed since Sabine, Wolf, and Gauthier -asserted that variations in the daily oscillations of the magnetic -needle appear to synchronise with the changes taking place in the -sun's condition, the oscillations attaining their _maximum_ average -range in years when the sun shows most spots, and their _minimum_ -range when there are fewest spots. And although it is well known that -the Astronomer Royal in England and the President of the Academy -of Sciences in France reject this doctrine, it still remains in -vogue. True, the average magnetic period appears to be about 10.45 -years, while Wolf obtains for the sun-spot period 11.11 years; but -believers in the connection between terrestrial magnetic disturbances -and sun-spots consider that among the imperfect records of the past -condition of the sun Wolf must have lost sight of one particular wave -of sun-spots, so to speak. If there have been 24 such waves between -1611 and 1877, when sun-spots were fewest, we get Wolf's period -of 11.11 years; if there have been 25 such waves then, taking an -admissible estimate for the earliest epoch, we get 10.45 years, the -period required to synchronise with the period of terrestrial magnetic -changes. The matter must be regarded as still _sub judice_. This, -however, is only one relation out of many now suggested. Displays of -the aurora, being unquestionably dependent on the magnetic condition -of the earth, would of course be associated with the sun spot period, -if the magnetic period is so; and certainly the most remarkable -displays of the aurora in recent times have occurred when the sun has -shown many spots. Yet this of itself proves nothing more than had -been already known--namely, that the last few magnetic periods have -nearly synchronised with the last few sun-spot periods. It is rather -strange, too, that no auroras are mentioned in the English records -for 80 years preceding the aurora of 1716, and in the records of the -Paris Academy of Sciences one only--that of 1666, which occurred when -sun-spots were fewest. The great aurora of 1723, seen as far south -as Bologna, also occurred at the time of _minimum_ solar activity. -Here we are not depending on either Wolf's period of 11 years or -Brown's of 10-1/2 years; from records of actual observation it is -known that in 1666 and 1713 there were no sun-spots. In fact it is -worth mentioning that Cassini, writing in 1671, says, 'It is now about -20 years since astronomers have seen any considerable spots on the -sun,' a circumstance which throws grave doubt on the law of sun-spot -periodicity itself. It is at least certain that the interval from -_maximum_, spot-frequency to _maximum_, or from _minimum_ to _minimum_, -has sometimes fallen far short of 9 years, and has at others exceeded -18 years. - -It appears again that certain meteorological phenomena show a tendency, -more or less marked, to run through a ten-year cycle. Thus, from the -records of rainfall kept at Oxford it appears that more rain fell under -west and south-west winds when sun-spots were largest and most numerous -than under south and south-east winds, these last being the more rainy -winds when sun-spots were least in size and fewest in number. This -is a somewhat recondite relation, and at least proves that earnest -search has been made for such cyclic relations as we are considering. -But this is not all. When other records were examined, the striking -circumstance was discovered that elsewhere, as at St. Petersburg, the -state of things observed at Oxford was precisely reversed. At some -intermediate point between Oxford and St. Petersburg, no doubt the -rainfall under the winds named was equally distributed throughout the -spot period. Moreover, as the conditions thus differ at different -places, we may assume that they differ also at different times. Such -relations appear then to be not only recondite, but complicated. - -When we learn that during nearly two entire sun-spot periods cyclones -have been somewhat more numerous in the Indian Seas when spots are -most numerous than when the sun is without spots, and _vice versâ_, -we recognise the possible existence of cyclic relations better worth -knowing than those heretofore mentioned. The evidence is not absolutely -decisive; some, indeed, regard it as scarcely trustworthy. Yet there -does seem to have been an excess of cyclonic disturbance during the -last two periods of great solar disturbance, precisely as there was -also an excess of magnetic disturbance during those periods. The -excess was scarcely sufficient, however, to justify the rather daring -statement made by one observer, that 'the whole question of cyclones -is merely a question of solar activity.' We had records of some very -remarkable cyclonic disturbances during the years 1876 and 1877, when -the sun showed very few spots, the actual _minimum_ of disturbance -having probably been reached late in 1877. A prediction that 1877 would -be a year of few and slight storms would have proved disastrous if -implicit reliance had been placed on it by seamen and travellers. - -Rainfall and atmospheric pressure in India have been found to vary -in a cyclic manner, of late years at any rate, the periods being -generally about 10 or 11 years. The activity of the sun, as shown by -the existence of many spots, apparently makes more rainfall at Madras, -Najpore, and some other places; while at Calcutta, Bombay, Mysore, -and elsewhere it produces a contrary effect. Yet these effects are -produced in a somewhat capricious way: for sometimes the year of actual -_maximum_ spot frequency is one in which rainfall is below the average -(instead of above) at the former stations, and above the average -(instead of below) at the latter. It is only by taking averages--and in -a somewhat artificial manner--that the relation seems to be indicated -on which stress has been laid. - -Since Indian famines are directly dependent on defective rainfall, it -is natural that during the years over which observation has hitherto -extended the connection apparently existing between sun-spots and -Indian rainfall should seem also to extend itself to Indian famines. It -was equally to be expected that since cyclones have been rather more -numerous, for some time past, in years when sun-spots have been most -numerous, shipwrecks should also have been somewhat more frequent in -such years. Two years ago Mr. Jeula gave some evidence which, in his -opinion, indicated such a connection between sun-spots and shipwrecks. -He showed that in the four years of fewest spots the mean percentage -of losses was 8.64; in four intermediate years the mean percentage was -9.21; in three remaining years of the eleven-year cycle--that is, in -three years of greatest spot frequency the mean percentage was 9.53. -Some suggested that possibly such events as the American war, which -included two of the three years of greatest spot frequency, may have -had more effect than sun-spots in increasing the percentage of ships -lost; while perhaps, the depression following the commercial panic of -1866 (at a time of fewest sun-spots) may have been almost as effective -in reducing the percentage of losses as the diminished area of solar -maculation. But others consider that we ought rather to regard the -American war as yet another product of the sun's increased activity in -1860-61, and the great commercial panic of 1866 as directly resulting -from diminished sun-spots at that time, thus obtaining fresh evidence -of the sun's specific influence on terrestrial phenomena instead of -explaining away the evidence derived from Lloyd's list of losses. - -This leads us to the last, and, in some respects, the most singular -suggestion respecting solar influence on mundane events--the idea, -namely, that commercial crises synchronise with the sun-spot period, -occurring near the time when spots are least in size and fewest in -number; or, as Professor Jevons (to whom the definite enunciation of -this theory is due) poetically presents the matter, that from 'the sun, -which is truly "of this great world both eye and soul," we derive our -strength and our weakness, our success and our failure, our elation in -commercial mania, and our despondency and ruin in commercial collapse.' -We have better opportunities of dealing with this theory than with the -others, for we have records of commercial matters extending as far back -as the beginning of the eighteenth century. In fact, we have better -evidence than Professor Jevons seems to have supposed, for whereas in -his discussion of the matter he considers only the probable average -of the sun-spot period, we know approximately the epochs themselves -at which the _maxima_ and _minima_ of sun spots have occurred since -the year 1700. The evidence as presented by Professor Jevons is very -striking, though when examined in detail it is rather disappointing. -He presents the whole series of decennial crises as follows:--1701? -(such query marks are his own), 1711, 1721, 1731-32, 1742 (?), 1752 -(?), 1763, 1772-73, 1783, 1793, 1804-5 (?), 1815, 1825, 1836-9 (1837 -in the United States), 1847, 1857, 1866 and 1878. The average interval -comes out 10.466 years, showing, as Jevons points out, 'almost perfect -coincidence with Brown's estimate of the average sun-spot period.' Let -us see, however, whether these dates correspond so closely with the -years of _minimum_ spot-frequency as to remove all doubt. Taking 5-1/4 -years as the average interval between _maximum_ and _minimum_ sun-spot -frequency, we should like to find every crisis occurring within a year -or so on either side of the _minimum_ though we should prefer perhaps -to find the crisis always following the time of fewest sun-spots, -as this would more directly show the depressing effect of a spotless -sun. No crisis ought to occur within a year or so of _maximum_ solar -disturbance; for that, it should seem, would be fatal to the suggested -theory. Taking the commercial crises in order, and comparing them with -the known (or approximately known) epochs of _maximum_ and _minimum_ -spot frequency, we obtain the following results (we italicize numbers -or results unfavourable to the theory):--The doubtful crisis of 1701 -followed a spot _minimum_ by _three_ years; the crisis of 1711 preceded -a _minimum_ by one year; that of 1721 preceded a _minimum_ by two -years; 1731-32, preceded a _minimum_ by one year; 1742 preceded a -_minimum_ by _three_ years; 1752 followed a _maximum_ by _two_ years; -1763 followed a _maximum_ by _a year and a half_; 1772-73 came _midway_ -between a _maximum_ and a _minimum_; 1783 preceded a _minimum_ by -nearly two years; 1793 came nearly midway between a _maximum_ and a -_minimum_; 1804-5 coincided with a _maximum_; 1815 preceded a _maximum_ -by two years; 1825 followed a _minimum_ by _two_ years; 1836-39 -_included_ the year 1837 of _maximum_ solar activity (that year being -the time also when a commercial crisis occurred in the United States); -1847 preceded a _maximum_ by a _year and a half_; 1866 preceded a -_minimum_ by a year; and 1878 followed a _minimum_ by a year. Four -favourable cases out of 17 can hardly be considered convincing. If we -include cases lying within two years of a _minimum_, the favourable -cases mount up to seven, leaving ten unfavourable ones. It must be -remembered, too, that a single decidedly unfavourable case (as 1804, -1815, 1837) does more to disprove such a theory than 20 favourable -cases would do towards establishing it. The American panic of 1873, -by the way, which occurred when spots were very numerous, decidedly -impairs the evidence derived from the crises of 1866 and 1878. - - - - -_NEW PLANETS NEAR THE SUN._ - - -Perhaps no scientific achievement during the present century has been -deemed more marvellous than the discovery of the outermost member (so -far as is known) of the sun's family of planets. In many respects, -apart from the great difficulty of the mathematical problem involved, -the discovery appealed strongly to the imagination. A planet seventeen -hundred millions of miles from the sun had been discovered in March, -1781, by a mere accident, though the accident was not one likely to -occur to any one but an astronomer constantly studying the star-depths. -Engaged in such observation, but with no idea of enlarging the known -domain of the sun, Sir W. Herschel perceived the distant planet Uranus. -His experienced eye at once recognised the fact that the stranger -was not a fixed star. He judged it to be a comet. It was not until -several weeks had elapsed that the newly discovered body was proved -to be a planet, travelling nearly twice as far away from the sun as -Saturn, the remotest planet before known. A century only had elapsed -since the theory of gravitation had been established. Yet it was at -once perceived how greatly this theory had increased the power of the -astronomer to deal with planetary motions. Before a year had passed -more was known about the motions of Uranus than had been learned about -the motion of any of the old planets during the two thousand years -preceding the time of Copernicus. It was possible to calculate in -advance the position of the newly discovered planet, to calculate -retrogressively the path along which it had been travelling, unseen -and unsuspected, during the century preceding its discovery. And now -observations which many might have judged to be of little value, came -in most usefully. Astronomers since the discovery of the telescope had -formed catalogues of the places of many hundreds of stars invisible to -the naked eye. Search among the observations by which such catalogues -had been formed, revealed the fact that Uranus had been seen and -catalogued as a fixed star twenty-one several times! Flamsteed had seen -it five times, each time recording it as a star of the sixth magnitude, -so that five of Flamsteed's stars had to be cancelled from his lists. -Lemonnier had actually seen Uranus twelve times, and only escaped the -honour of discovering the planet (as such) through the most marvellous -carelessness, his astronomical papers being, as Arago said, 'a very -picture of chaos.' Bradley saw Uranus three times.[3] Mayer saw the -planet once only. - -It was from the study of the movements of Uranus as thus seen, combined -with the planet's progress after its discovery, that mathematicians -first began to suspect the existence of some unknown disturbing body. -The observations preceding the discovery of the planet range over an -interval of ninety years and a few months, the earliest observation -used being one made by Flamsteed on December 23, 1690. There is -something very strange in the thought that science was able thus to -deal with the motions of a planet for nearly a century before the -planet was known. Astronomy calculated in the first place where the -planet had been during that time; and then, from records made by -departed observers, who had had no suspicion of the real nature of the -body they were observing, Astronomy corrected her calculations, and -deduced more rigorously the true nature of the new planet's motions. - -But still stranger and more impressive is the thought that from -researches such as these, Astronomy should be able to infer the -existence of a planet a thousand million miles further away than Uranus -itself. How amazing it would have seemed to Flamsteed, for example, if -on that winter evening in 1693, when he first observed Uranus, he had -been told that the orb which he was entering in his lists as a star of -the sixth magnitude was not a star at all, and that the observation he -was then making would help astronomers a century and a half later to -discover an orb a hundred times larger than the earth, and travelling -thirty times farther away from the sun. - -Even more surprising, however, than any of the incidents which preceded -the discovery of Neptune was this achievement itself. That a planet so -remote as to be quite invisible to the naked eye, never approaching -our own earth within less than twenty-six hundred millions of miles, -never even approaching Uranus within less than nine hundred and fifty -millions of miles, should be detected by means of those particular -perturbations (among many others) which it produced upon a planet not -yet known for three-quarters of a century, seemed indeed surprising. -Yet even this was not all. As if to turn a wonderful achievement into -a miracle of combined skill and good fortune, came the announcement -that, after all, the planet discovered in the spot to which Adams -and Leverrier pointed was not the planet of their calculations, but -travelled in an orbit four or five hundred millions of miles nearer to -the sun than the orbit which had been assigned to the unknown body. -Many were led to suppose that nothing but a most marvellous accident -had rewarded with such singular success the calculations of Adams -and Leverrier. Others were even more surprised to learn that the new -planet departed strangely from the law of distances which all the other -planets of the solar system seemed to obey. For according to that law -(called Bode's law) the distance of Neptune, instead of being about -thirty times, should have been thirty-nine times the earth's distance -from the sun. - -In some respects the discovery of a planet nearer to the sun than -Mercury may seem to many far inferior in interest to the detection of -the remote giant Neptune. Between Mercury and the sun there intervenes -a mean distance of only thirty-six millions of miles, a distance -seeming quite insignificant beside those which have been dealt with -in describing the discovery of Uranus and Neptune. Again it is quite -certain that any planet between Mercury and the sun must be far -inferior to our own earth in size and mass, whereas Neptune exceeds -the earth 105 times in size and 17 times in mass. Thus a much smaller -region has to be searched over for a much smaller body. Moreover, -while mathematical calculation cannot deal nearly so exactly with an -intra-Mercurial planet as with Neptune, for there are no perturbations -of Mercury which give the slightest information as to the orbital -position of his disturber, the part of the heavens occupied by the -intra-Mercurial planet is known without calculation, seeing that the -planet must always lie within six or seven degrees or so of the sun, -and can never be very far from the ecliptic. - -Yet in reality the detection of an intra-Mercurial planet is a problem -of far greater difficulty than that of such a planet as Neptune, while -even now when most astronomers consider that an intra-Mercurial planet -has been detected, the determination of its orbit is a problem which -seems to present almost insuperable difficulties. - -I may remark, indeed, with regard to Neptune, that he might have been -successfully searched for without a hundredth part of the labour and -thought actually devoted to his detection. It may sound rather daring -to assert that any fairly good geometrician could have pointed after -less than an hour's calculation, based on the facts known respecting -Uranus in 1842, to a region within which the disturbing planet must -certainly lie,--a region larger considerably no doubt than that to -which Adams and Leverrier pointed, yet a region which a single observer -could have swept over adequately in half-a-dozen favourable evenings, -two such surveys sufficing to discover the disturbing planet. I -believe, however, that no one who examines the evidence will deny -the accuracy of this statement. It was manifest, from the nature of -the perturbations experienced by Uranus, that between 1820 and 1825 -Uranus and the unknown body had been in conjunction. From this it -followed that the disturber must be behind Uranus in 1840-1845 by about -one-eighth of a revolution round the sun. With the assumptions made -by Adams and Leverrier, indeed, the position of the stranger in this -respect could have been more closely determined. There could be little -doubt that the disturbing planet must be near the ecliptic. It followed -that the planet must lie somewhere on a strip of the heavens, certainly -not more than ten degrees long and about three degrees broad, but the -probable position of the planet would be indicated as within a strip -four degrees long and two broad.[4] Such a strip could be searched over -effectually in the time I have named above, and the planet would have -been found in it. The larger region (ten degrees long and three broad) -could have been searched over in the same time by two observers. If -indeed the single observer used a telescope powerful enough to detect -the difference of aspect between the disc of Neptune and the point-like -image of a star (the feature by which Galle, it will be remembered, -recognised Neptune), a single night would have sufficed for the search -over the smaller of the above-mentioned regions, and two nights for the -search over the larger. The search over the smaller, as already stated, -would have revealed the disturbing planet. - -On the other hand, the astronomer could not determine the direction of -an intra-Mercurial planet within a considerably larger space on the -heavens, while the search over the space within which such a planet was -to be looked for was attended by far more serious difficulties than the -search for Neptune. In fact, it seems as though, even when astronomers -have learned where to look for such a planet, they cannot expect to see -it under ordinary atmospheric conditions when the sun is not eclipsed. - -Let us consider the history of the search for an intra-Mercurial planet -from the time when first the idea was suggested that such a planet -exists until the time of its actual discovery--for so it seems we must -regard the observations made during the total eclipse of July, 1878. - -On January 2, 1860, M. Leverrier announced, in a paper addressed to -the Academy of Sciences, that the observations of Mercury could not -be reconciled with the received elements of the planet. According to -those elements, the point of Mercury's orbit which lies nearest to the -sun undergoes a certain motion which would carry it entirely round in -about 230,000 years. But to account for the observed motions of Mercury -as determined from twenty-one transits over the sun between the years -1697 and 1848, a slight increase in this motion of the perihelion was -required, an increase, in fact, from 581 seconds of arc in a century -to nearly 585. The result would involve, he showed, an increase in -our estimate of the mass of Venus by a full tenth. But such a change -would necessarily lead to difficulties in other directions; for the -mass of Venus had been determined from observations of changes in the -position of the earth's path, and these changes had been too carefully -determined to be readily regarded as erroneous. 'This result naturally -filled me with inquietude,' said Leverrier later. 'Had I not allowed -some error in the theory to escape me? New researches, in which every -circumstance was taken into account by different methods, ended only in -the conclusion that the theory was correct, but that it did not agree -with the observations.' At last, after long and careful investigation -of the matter, he found that a certain slight change would bring -observation and theory into agreement. All that was necessary was -to assume that matter as yet undiscovered exists in the sun's -neighbourhood. 'Does it consist,' he asked, 'of one or more planets, or -other more minute asteroids, or only of cosmical dust? The theory tells -us nothing on this point.' - -Leverrier pointed out that a planet half the size of Mercury between -Mercury and the sun would account for the discrepancy between -observation and theory. But a planet of that size would be a very -conspicuous object at certain times, even when the sun was not -eclipsed; and when favourably placed during eclipses would be a -resplendent orb which would attract the notice of even the most -careless observer. For we must remember that the brightness of a -planet depends in part on its size and its distance from the earth, -and in part on its distance from the sun. A planet half as large as -Mercury would have a diameter about four-fifths of Mercury's, and at -equal distance would present a disc about two-thirds of Mercury's in -apparent size. But supposing the planet to be half as far from the sun -as Mercury (and theory required that the planet should be rather nearer -the sun), its surface would be illuminated four times as brightly as -that of Mercury. Hence, with a disc two-thirds as large as Mercury's, -but illuminated four times as brightly, the planet would shine -nearly three times as brilliantly when seen under equally favourable -conditions during eclipse. In such an inquiry, the mean distance of the -two bodies need not be specially considered. Each planet would be seen -most favourably when in the part of its path remotest from the earth, -so that the planet nearest to the sun would on the whole have the -advantage of any difference due to that cause. For, of course, while -Mercury, being farther from the sun, approaches the earth nearer when -between the earth and sun, he recedes farther from the sun for the same -reason when on the part of his path beyond the sun. - -It was perfectly clear that no such planet as Leverrier considered -necessary to reconcile theory and observation exists between the sun -and Mercury's orbit. It appeared necessary, therefore, to assume that -either there must be several smaller planets, or else that a cloud of -cosmical dust surrounds the sun. Now it is to be noticed that in either -case the entire mass of matter between Mercury and the sun must be -greater to produce the observed disturbance than the mass of a single -planet travelling at the outside of the region supposed to be occupied -either by a group of planets or a cloud of meteorites. - -Leverrier considered the existence of a ring of small planets afforded -the most probable explanation. He recommended astronomers to search -for such bodies. It is noteworthy that it was in reference to this -suggestion that M. Faye (following a suggestion of Sir J. Herschel's) -proposed that at several observatories, suitably selected, the sun -should be photographed several times every day with a powerful -telescope. 'I have myself,' he says, 'shown how to give these -photographs the value of an astronomical observation by taking two -impressions on the same plate after an interval of two minutes. It will -be sufficient to superpose the transparent negatives of this size taken -at a quarter of an hour's interval, to distinguish immediately the -movable projection of a small planet in the middle of the most complex -groups of small spots.' - -It was while Leverrier and Faye were discussing this matter, that news -came of the recognition of an intra-Mercurial planet by Lescarbault, -a doctor residing at Orgères, in the department of Eure et Loire. The -story has been so often told that I am loth to occupy space with it -here. An account is given of the leading incidents in an article called -'The Planets put in Leverrier's Balance,' in my 'Science Byways,' -and a somewhat more detailed narrative in my 'Myths and Marvels of -Astronomy.' Here, it will suffice to give a very slight sketch of this -interesting episode in the history of astronomy. - -On January 2, 1860, news reached Leverrier that Lescarbault had on -March 26, 1859, seen a round black spot on the sun's face, and had -watched it travelling across like a planet in transit. It had remained -in view for one hour and a quarter. Leverrier could not understand why -three-quarters of a year had been allowed to elapse before so important -an observation had been published. He went to Orgères with the idea -of exposing a pretender. The interview was a strange one. Leverrier -was stern and, to say the truth, exceedingly rude in his demeanour, -Lescarbault singularly lamb-like. If our chief official astronomer -called uninvited upon some country gentleman who had announced an -astronomical discovery, and behaved as Leverrier did to Lescarbault, -there would most certainly have been trouble; but Lescarbault seems -to have been rather pleased than otherwise. 'So you are the man,' -said Leverrier, looking fiercely at the doctor, 'who pretends to have -seen an intra-Mercurial planet. You have committed a grave offence in -hiding your observation, supposing you really have made it, for nine -months. You are either dishonest or deceived. Tell me at once and -without equivocation what you have seen.' Lescarbault described his -observation. Leverrier asked for his chronometer, and, hearing that -the doctor used only his watch, the companion of his professional -journeys, asked how he could pretend to estimate seconds with an old -watch. Lescarbault showed a silk pendulum 'beating seconds,'--though it -would have been more correct to say 'swinging seconds.' Leverrier then -examined the doctor's telescope, and presently asked for the record -of the observations. Lescarbault produced it, written on a piece of -laudanum-stained paper which at the moment was doing service as a -marker in the _Connaissance des Temps_. Leverrier asked Lescarbault -what distance he had deduced for the new planet. The doctor replied -that he had been unable to deduce any, not being a mathematician: he -had made many attempts, however.[5] Hearing this, Leverrier asked for -the rough draft of these ineffective calculations. 'My rough draft?' -said the doctor. 'Paper is rather scarce with us here. I am a joiner as -well as an astronomer' (we can imagine the expression of Leverrier's -face at this moment); 'I calculate in my workshop, and I write upon the -boards; and when I wish to use them in new calculations, I remove the -old ones by planing.' On adjourning to the carpenter's shop, however, -they found the board with its lines and its numbers in chalk still -unobliterated. - -This last piece of evidence, though convincing Leverrier that -Lescarbault was no mathematician, and therefore probably in his eyes -no astronomer, yet satisfied him as to the good faith of the doctor of -Orgères. With a grace and dignity full of kindness, which must have -afforded a singular contrast to his previous manner, he congratulated -Lescarbault on his important discovery. He made some inquiry also at -Orgères, concerning the private character of Lescarbault, and learning -from the village _curé_, the _juge de paix_, and other functionaries, -that he was a skilful physician, he determined to secure some reward -for his labours. At Leverrier's request M. Rouland, the Minister -of Public Instruction, communicated to Napoleon III. the result of -Leverrier's visit, and on January 25 the Emperor bestowed on the -village doctor the decoration of the Legion of Honour. - -To return to astronomical facts. - -It appears from Lescarbault's observation, that on March 26, 1859, at -about four in the afternoon, a round black spot entered on the sun's -disc. It had a diameter less than one-fourth that of Mercury (which he -had seen in transit with the same telescope and the same magnifying -power on May 8, 1845). The time occupied in the transit of this spot -was about one hour seventeen minutes, and, the chord of transit -being somewhat more than a quarter of the sun's diameter in length, -Lescarbault calculated that the time necessary to describe the sun's -diameter would have been nearly four and a half hours. The inclination -of the body's path to the ecliptic seemed to be rather more than 6 -degrees, and was probably comprised between 5-1/3 and 7-1/3 degrees. - -From Leverrier's calculations, it appeared that the time of revolution -of the new planet would be 19 days 17 hours, its distance from the -sun about 147, the earth's being taken as 1,000; giving for Mars, -the earth, Venus, Mercury, and Vulcan (as the new planet was named), -the respective distances 1, 524, 1,000, 723, 387, and 147. Leverrier -assigned 12-1/5 degrees as Vulcan's inclination, and the places -where it crosses the ecliptic he considered to be in line with those -occupied by the earth on or about April 3 and October 6. Judging from -Lescarbault's statement respecting the apparent size of the dark spot, -Leverrier concluded that the volume of the stranger must be about -one-seventeenth of Mercury's, the masses being presumably in the same -proportion. Hence he inferred that the new planet would be quite -incompetent to produce the observed change in the orbit of Mercury. - -Leverrier further found that the brilliancy of Vulcan when the planet -was furthest from the sun on the sky (about eight degrees) would be -less than that of Mercury when similarly placed in his orbit, and he -hence inferred that Vulcan might readily remain unseen, even during -total eclipse. Here, as it seems to me, Leverrier's reasoning was -erroneous. If Vulcan really has a volume equal to one-seventeenth -of Mercury's, the diameter of Vulcan would be rather less than two -fifths of Mercury's and the disc of Vulcan at the same distance about -two-thirteenths of Mercury's. But Vulcan, being nearer the sun than -Mercury in the ratio of 147 to 387, or say 15 to 39, would be more -brightly illuminated in the ratio of 39 times 39 to 15 times 15, or -nearly as 20 to 3. Hence if we first diminish Mercury's lustre when -at his greatest apparent distance from the sun in the ratio of 2 to -13, and increase the result in the ratio of 20 to 3, we get Vulcan's -lustre when he is at his greatest apparent distance from the sun. The -result is that his lustre should exceed Mercury's in the same degree -that 40 exceeds 39. Or practically, for all the numbers used have been -mere approximations, the inference is that Vulcan and Mercury, if both -seen when at their greatest distance from the sun during eclipse, would -probably shine with equal lustre. But in that case Vulcan would be a -very conspicuous object indeed, at such a time; for Mercury when at his -greatest distance from the sun, or greatest elongation, is a bright -star even on a strongly illuminated twilight sky; moreover, Vulcan, -when at either of his greatest elongations, ought to be visible in full -daylight in a suitably adjusted telescope. For Mercury is well seen -when similarly placed, and even when much nearer to the sun and on the -nearer part of his path where he turns much more of his darkened than -of his illuminated hemisphere towards us. Venus has been seen when -so near the sun that the illuminated portion of her disc is a mere -thread-like sickle of light. Nay, Professor Lyman, of Yale College, in -America, has seen her when so near the sun that she appeared to be a -mere circular thread of light, the completion of the circle being the -best possible proof how exceedingly fine the thread must have been, and -also how small its intrinsic lustre. - -This is indeed the chief difficulty in Lescarbault's supposed -observation. If he really saw a body in transit across the sun, moving -at the observed rate, and having anything like the observed diameter, -that body ought to have been seen repeatedly during total eclipses of -the sun, and ought not to have escaped the search which has been made -over and over again near the sun for intra-Mercurial planets. Either we -must reject Lescarbault's narrative absolutely, or we must suppose that -he greatly over-estimated the size of the body he observed. - -Another difficulty almost equally important is found to exist when -we consider the circumstances of Lescarbault's supposed discovery. -Suppose the path of Vulcan to be inclined about twelve degrees or -thereabouts to the ecliptic or to the plane in which the earth travels. -Then, as seen from the earth on April 3, and October 6, this path, if -it were a material ring, would appear as a straight line across the -sun's centre, and extending on either side of the sun to a distance -of about 16 sun-breadths. As seen on January 3 and July 5, when it -would have its greatest opening, Vulcan's path would appear as an oval -whose longest axis would be about 32 sun-breadths, while its shortest -would be little more than 6 sun-breadths, the sun of course occupying -the centre of the ellipse, which, where closest to him, would lie -but about 2-1/2 sun-breadths only from the outline of his disc. Now -it is easily seen that the path of Vulcan, changing in this way from -apparent straightness to a long oval (whose breadth is about one-fifth -its length), back to straightness but differently inclined, then to -the same oval as before but opened out the other way, and so back to -its original straightness and inclination, must, for no inconsiderable -portion of the year on either side of April 3 and October 6, intersect -the outline of the sun's disc. From a rough but sufficiently accurate -calculation which I have made, I find that the interval would last -about 36 days at each season, that is, from about March 16 to April 21 -in spring, and from about September 18 to about October 24 in autumn. -But during a period of 36 days there would generally be two passages of -Vulcan between the earth and sun, and there would always be one (in any -long period of time two such passages would be five times as common an -event during one of these intervals as a single passage). Consequently -there would be at least two transits of Vulcan every year, and there -would generally be four transits; the average number of transits would -be about eleven in three years. With a wider orbit and a greater -inclination transits would be fewer; but even with the widest orbit and -the greatest inclination that can possibly be allowed, there would be -at least one transit a year on the average. - -Now when we remember that, so far as the northern hemisphere is -concerned, the sun is observed on every fine day in almost every -country in Europe and in half the States of the American Union, to -say nothing of observations in Asia, where England and Russia have -several observatories, while in the southern hemisphere there are -many observatories, in Australia, South Africa, and South America (on -both side of the Andes), we see how exceedingly small must be the -chance that Vulcan could escape detection even for a single year. -Far less could Vulcan have escaped all the years which have elapsed -since Lescarbault announced his discovery, to say nothing of all the -observations made by Carrington, Schwabe, and many others, before the -year 1860. If Vulcan really exists, and really has the dimensions and -motions described by Lescarbault, the planet must long ere this have -been repeatedly seen upon the sun's disc by experienced observers. - -As a matter of fact, Wolf has collected nineteen observations of dark -bodies unlike spots on the sun, during the interval between 1761 and -1865. But as Professor Newcomb justly points out, with two or three -exceptions, the observers are almost unknown as astronomers. In one -case at least the object seen was certainly not a planet, since -it was described as a cloud-like appearance. 'On the other hand,' -says Newcomb, 'for fifty years past the sun has been constantly and -assiduously observed by such men as Schwabe, Carrington, Secchi, and -Spörer, none of whom have ever recorded anything of the sort. That -planets in such numbers should pass over the solar disc, and be seen by -amateur astronomers, and yet escape all these skilled astronomers, is -beyond all moral probability.' - -It must be remembered that an inexperienced observer of the sun might -readily mistake a spot of unusual roundness and darkness for a planet's -disc. The practised observer would perceive peculiarities at once -indicating the object as a spot on the sun; but these peculiarities -would escape the notice of a beginner, or of one using a telescope of -small power. Again, an inexperienced observer is apt to mistake the -change of position which a spot on the sun undergoes on account of the -diurnal motion, for a change of place on the sun's disc. At noon, for -instance, the uppermost point of the sun's disc is the north point; -but in the afternoon the uppermost point is east of the true north -point. Thus a spot which at noon was a short distance below the highest -point of the sun's disc would at two or three be considerably to the -west of the highest point, though it had undergone in the interval no -appreciable change of position on the solar disc. Suppose now that -at two or three in the afternoon clouds come over the sun's face, -and he is not seen again that day. On the morrow the spot may have -disappeared, as solar spots are apt enough to do. The observer, then -(assuming him to be inexperienced like most of those who have described -such spots), would say, I saw at noon a small round spot which in the -course of the next three hours moved over an appreciable arc towards -the west (the right direction, be it remembered, for a planet to cross -the sun's face). An experienced observer would not make such a mistake. -But let one point be carefully noted. An experienced astronomer would -be very apt to forget that such a mistake could be made. He would take -it for granted that the observer who described such a change in a -spot's position meant a real change, not a change due to the diurnal -motion. - -Therefore, although Leverrier, Moigno, Hind, and other men of science, -have adopted Lescarbault's account, I hold it to be absolutely certain -that that account is in some respect or other erroneous. Newcomb goes -even farther. He says, it is very certain that if the disturbance of -Mercury is due to a group of planets, 'they are each so small as to be -invisible in transits across the sun. They must also,' he proceeds, 'be -so small as to be invisible during total eclipses of the sun, because -they have always failed to show themselves then.' This remark relates, -of course, to naked-eye vision. As no intra-Mercurial planet had ever -been searched for systematically with the telescope, before the recent -eclipse, there was nothing to prevent astronomers from believing that -a group of planets, visible in the telescope during total eclipse, may -travel between the sun and the path of Mercury. - -I proceed at once to consider the evidence afforded during the eclipse -of July, 1878, not discussing further the question of Lescarbault's -Vulcan, because it appears to me so clear that there must have been -some mistake, and because later observations seem to throw clearer -evidence on the matter than any which had been before obtained. Yet it -must be admitted that even now the evidence is not all that could be -desired. - -Professor Watson, of Ann Arbor, the discoverer of more than a score of -the small planets which travel between the paths of Mars and Jupiter, -had been searching for an _extra-Neptunian_ planet, when the approach -of the eclipse of July, 1878, suggested the idea that he should return -for a while from those dismal depths which lie beyond the path of -Neptune to seek for a new planet within the glowing region between the -sun and the path of Mercury. The occasion was exceptionally favourable -because of the great height above the sea-level from which the eclipse -could be observed. Accordingly he betook himself to Rawlins, Wyoming, -and prepared for the search by providing his telescope with card -circles in such sort that the place of any observed star could be -recorded by a pencil-mark on these circles, instead of being read off -(with the possibility of error) in the usual way. It is unnecessary -to explain further, because every one who has ever used an equatorial -telescope, or is acquainted with the nature of the instrument, will -at once understand Professor Watson's plan, whereas those unfamiliar -with the instrument, would not gain any insight into the nature of his -plan without much more explanatory matter than could be conveniently -given here, even if any explanation without illustrations could make -the matter clear. Let it suffice to note that, having brought any star -centrally into the telescopic field of view, Professor Watson marked in -pencil where the ends of certain pointers came; and that these marks -served to indicate, after the eclipse was over, the position of the -observed star. - -Thus provided, Professor Watson, so soon as totality began, searched -on the eastern side of the sun, and there saw certain stars belonging -to the constellation Cancer, where the sun was situate at the time. He -then examined the western side of the sun, and having swept out to a -star which he took to be Zeta Cancri (though he was rather surprised at -its brightness,--but of that more anon) he returned towards the sun, -encountering on his way a star of the fourth magnitude or rather less, -about two degrees to the west of the sun. Close by was the star Theta -Cancri; but Theta was much fainter, and was seen at the same time a -little further west. It is not easy to understand why Watson did not -make comparison between the position of the new star and Theta, instead -of making comparison between the new star, the sun, and the star which -he took to be Zeta. For a comparison with a known object so close as -Theta would have given more satisfactory evidence than a comparison -with objects farther away. However, as he distinctly states in a letter -to Sir G. Airy that the new star was very much brighter than Theta -Cancri, which was seen a little farther to the west, we cannot doubt -that he had sufficient evidence to prove the new star and Theta Cancri -to be distinct orbs. - -He adds that there was no appearance of elongation, as might be -expected if the new object were a comet. It had a perceptible disc, -though the magnifying power was only forty five. - -The accompanying figure will serve to give a fair idea of the position -of the stranger. - -[Illustration: Fig. 1.--Watson's new Planet.] - -Now comes the evidence which was at first supposed to be strongly -corroborative of Watson's observation,--the recognition of a star of -about the fourth magnitude, near Theta Cancri, by Professor Louis -Swift, who observed the eclipse from Pike's Peak, in Colorado. - -Professor Swift also made some rather unusual arrangements with his -telescope, but they were not altogether so well adapted to advance his -purpose as were Professor Watson's. To prevent the instrument from -swaying he tied what he calls a pole (but what in England I imagine -would be called a stick), ten feet long, about a foot from the eye-end -of the telescope, leaving the other end of this singular appendage -to trail on the ground. (The telescope was set low, Professor Swift -judging, it would seem, that the most comfortable way to observe was -to lie on his back.) As a natural consequence, while he could move his -telescope very readily one way, trailing the stick along, he could not -move it the other way, because the stick's end immediately stuck into -the ground. As the stick was on the west of the telescope, Professor -Swift could move the eye-end eastwards, following the sun's westwardly -motion. Of course the telescope was to have been released from the -stick when totality began, but unfortunately Professor Swift omitted -to do this, so that he had to work during totality with a hampered -telescope. - -The following is his account of what he saw:-- - -'My hampered telescope behaved badly, and no regularity in the sweeps -could be maintained. Almost at once my eye caught two red stars about -three degrees south-west of the sun, with large round and equally -bright discs which I estimated as of the fifth magnitude, appearing -(this was my thought at the time) about as bright in the telescope -as the pole-star does to the naked eye. I then carefully noted their -distance from the sun and from each other, and the direction in which -they pointed, &c., and recorded them in my memory, where, to my mind's -eye, they are still distinctly visible. I then swept southward, not -daring to venture far to the west, for fear I should be unable to get -back again, and soon came upon two stars resembling in every particular -the former two I had found, and, sighting along the outside of the -tube, was surprised to find I was viewing the same objects. Again I -observed them with the utmost care, and then recommenced my sweeps in -another direction; but I soon had them again, and for the third time, -in the field. This was also the last, as a small cloud hindered a final -leave-taking just before the end of totality, as I had intended. I -saw no other star besides these two, not even Delta, so close to the -eastern edge of the sun.' - -He adds that the apparent distance between the two bodies was about -one-fourth the sun's diameter. (These are not his words, but convey the -same meaning.) - -Again, he adds that, from three careful estimates, he found the two -stars pointed exactly to the sun's centre. He knew one of the two -bodies was Theta; but unfortunately he could not tell which was Theta -and which the new star or planet. 'But,' he says, 'Professor Watson -happily comes to the rescue, and with his means of measuring finds the -planet nearest to the sun.' - -Unhappily, however, Professor Watson does not come absolutely to the -rescue here. On the contrary, to use Professor Swift's words in another -part of his letter (and speaking of another matter), 'it is just here -where the trouble begins.' If we construct a little map illustrating -what Professor Swift describes, we get the accompanying arrangement -(fig. 2). It is clearly quite impossible to reconcile this view of the -supposed new planet with Professor Watson's. If three careful estimates -showed Swift the stranger and Theta situated as in fig. 2, it is -absolutely certain that either Watson's observation was very far from -the truth, or else the strange orb he saw was not the same that Swift -saw. On the other hand, if Watson's observation was trustworthy, it is -certain that either Swift's three estimates were inexact or he saw a -different new body. Again, their accounts of the relative brightness of -Theta and the stranger could not possibly be reconciled if we supposed -they were observing the same new planet, for Watson says distinctly -that the stranger was _very much brighter_ than Theta; while Swift -says, with equal distinctness, that the two stars were _equally bright_. - -[Illustration: Fig. 2.--Swift's new Planet?] - -If we accept both observations, we must consider that the strange orb -seen by Swift was not the nearer to the sun, but the other, for Watson, -in his letter to Sir G. Airy, says that he saw both Theta and his own -new planet, and he could not have overlooked Swift's new planet, if -placed as in fig. 2, whereas if the star there marked as the stranger -were really Theta, Watson might readily enough have overlooked the -other star, as farther away from his newly-discovered planet. According -to this view, the actual arrangement at the time of the eclipse was as -shown in fig. 3. - -[Illustration: Fig. 3.--Suggested explanation of Watson's and Swift's -observations.] - -But this is not quite all. Professor Watson saw another body, which -in his opinion was a planet. I have already mentioned that he thought -Zeta remarkably bright. It seemed to him a star of nearly the third -magnitude, whereas Zeta Cancri is only of the fifth. Nay, speaking of -the planet near Theta, and of this star which he took for Zeta, he -says, 'they were probably really brighter [than the 4-1/2 and 3-1/2 -magnitude respectively], because the illumination of the sky was not -considered in the estimates.' Before he had thoroughly examined the -pencil marks on his card circles, and made the necessary calculations, -he supposed the brighter star to be Zeta, because he did not see the -latter star. But when he examined his result carefully, he found that -the bright star was set (according to his pencil marks) more than -one degree east of Zeta. Writing on August 22, he says, 'The more I -consider the case the more improbable it seems to me that the second -star which I observed, and thought it might be Zeta, was that known -star. I was not certain, in this case, whether the wind had disturbed -the telescope or not. As it had not done so in the case of any other of -six pointings which I recorded, it seems almost certain that the second -was a new star.' It would be easy to understand why Professor Watson -had not seen Zeta, for he only swept as far as the star he mistook for -Zeta, and, as the accompanying figure shows, Zeta was beyond that star -on the west.[6] - -Fig. 4 represents the apparent result of the observations made by -Professors Watson and Swift, if all the observations are regarded -as trustworthy. The six stars shown in the figure were probably the -six referred to in the preceding paragraph. The two unnamed ones are -well-known red stars. - -[Illustration: Fig. 4.--Showing all the stars observed by Watson and -Swift.] - -Let it be noticed, that we cannot reject planet 1, without rejecting -all Watson's observations. We cannot reject planet 2, without rejecting -all Swift's observations. We cannot set this planet to the left of -Theta without throwing doubt on Watson's observations. If Watson swept -over Theta westward without seeing 2, Swift must have made some mistake -as yet unexplained. As for planet 3, if we admit the possibility -that this object really was Zeta, we must admit also the possibility -that the object marked as planet 1 was really Theta, or rather we -should have to do so, were it not that Watson saw Theta also, and (I -suppose) in the same field of view, since he speaks confidently of the -inferiority of Theta in brightness. - -It should further be noticed, that though Swift's and Watson's -observations by no means agree in details, they do in reality support -each other (unless Watson should definitely assert that no star as -bright as Theta existed either to the west or to the east of that star, -at the distance indicated by Swift.) For they agree in indicating the -existence of small planets near the sun, such as can only be seen with -the telescope. - -On the other hand, it is to be noted that other observers failed to see -any of these bodies, though they looked specially for intra-Mercurial -planets. Thus Professor Hall, of the Washington Observatory, searched -over a larger space than is included in fig. 4, without seeing any -unknown body. But as he also failed to see many known bodies which -should have been seen, it is probable that the search was too hurried -to be trustworthy. - -It would be satisfactory to be able to say that any of the supposed -planets might have been Lescarbault's Vulcan. But in reality, I fear, -this cannot have been the case. In the _Times_, I expressed, in an -article dated August 14, 1878, the opinion that the evidence obtained -establishes the existence of the planet which had so long been regarded -as a myth. That opinion was based on a very careful investigation of -the evidence available at the time. But it does not accord with what -has since been learned respecting Watson's observations. - -We may dismiss planet 3 at once. If Watson is right about this body -being distinct from Zeta (a point about which, I must confess, I feel -grave doubts), then this must be a planet travelling in an orbit much -wider than we can possibly assign to Vulcan. For even at the distance -of some seven degrees from the sun it showed no sign of gibbosity. If -it had then been at its greatest elongation it would have appeared only -half-full. But with the power Watson was using, which enabled him to -pronounce that the smaller body near Theta showed no elongation, he -would at once have noticed any such peculiarity of shape. He could not -have failed to observe any gibbosity approaching to that of the moon -when three-quarters full. Moreover on July 29 a planet which has its -points of crossing the ecliptic opposite the earth's place on April -3 and October 6, could not appear where Watson saw this body (fully -two degrees from the ecliptic) unless either its orbit were far wider -than that which Leverrier assigned to Vulcan, or else its inclination -far greater. Neither supposition can be reconciled with Lescarbault's -observation. - -With regard to planets 1 and 2, the case is equally strong against the -theory that Vulcan was observed. The same reasoning applies to both -these bodies. When I speak therefore of planet 1, it will be understood -that planet 2 also is dealt with. First, as this planet appeared with -a disc appreciably round, it is clear that it must have been near the -point of its orbit farthest from the earth, that is, the point directly -beyond the sun. It was then nearly at its brightest. Yet it appeared as -a fourth-magnitude star only. We have seen that Lescarbault's Vulcan, -even when only half-full, would appear as bright as Mercury at his -brightest, if Lescarbault's account can be accepted in all its details. -Situated as planet 1 was, Vulcan would have shown much more brightly -than an average first-magnitude star. At a very moderate computation it -would have been twice as bright as such a star. But planet 1 appeared -fainter than a fourth-magnitude star. Assume, however, that in reality -it was shining as brightly as an average third-magnitude star. Then it -shone with much less than a twentieth of the lustre Vulcan should have -had, if Lescarbault's estimate were correct. Its diameter then cannot -be greater than a quarter of that which Leverrier assigned to Vulcan -on the strength of Lescarbault's observation. In fact, the apparent -diameter of planet 1, when in transit over the sun's face, could not be -more than a sixteenth of Mercury's in transit, or about two-fifths of a -second,--roughly, about a 5000th part of the sun's apparent diameter. -It is certain that Lescarbault could not have made so considerable a -mistake as this. Nay, it is certain, that with the telescope he used he -could not have seen a spot of this size at all on the sun's face. - -It will be seen that Lescarbault's observation still remains -unconfirmed, or rather, to speak more correctly, the doubts which -have been raised respecting Lescarbault's Vulcan are now more than -ever justified. If such a body as he supposed he saw really travels -round the sun within the orbit of Mercury, it is certain that the -observations made last July by those who were specially engaged in -seeking for Vulcan must have been rewarded by a view of that planet. -In July, Lescarbault's Vulcan could not have been invisible, no matter -in what part of his orbit it might be, and the chances would have been -greatly in favour of its appearing as a very bright star, without -telescopic aid. - -But on the other hand it seems extremely probable,--in fact, unless -any one be disposed to question the veracity of the observers, it is -certain,--that within the orbit of Mercury there are several small -planets, of which certainly two, and probably three, were seen during -the eclipse of July 29, 1878. All these bodies must be beyond the -range of any except the most powerful telescopes, whether sought for -as bright bodies outside the sun (not eclipsed) or as dark bodies in -transit across the sun's face. The search for such bodies in transit -would in fact be hopeless with any telescope which would not easily -separate double stars one second of arc apart. It is with large -telescopes, then, and under favourable conditions of atmosphere, -locality, and so forth, that the search for intra-Mercurial planets in -transit must in future be conducted. As the observed disturbance of -Mercury's perihelion, and the absence of any corresponding disturbance -of his nodes (the points where he crosses the plane of the earth's -motion) show that the disturbing bodies must form a ring or disc whose -central plane must nearly coincide with the plane of Mercury's path, -the most favourable time for seeing these bodies in transit would -be the first fortnights in May and November; for the earth crosses -the plane of Mercury's orbit on or about May 8 and November 10. I -believe that a search carried out in April, May, and June, and in -October, November, and December, with the express object of discovering -_very_ small planets in transit, could not fail to be quickly -rewarded,--unless the observations made by Watson and Swift are to be -wholly rejected. - - [Since this was written, Professor Swift has expressed the opinion - that his planet cannot possibly have been the one seen near Theta - Cancri by Professor Watson,--who it seems saw Theta in the centre - of a large field of view, and must therefore have seen Swift's - planet had that object been placed either as shown in fig. 2 or - fig. 3. Hence Professor Swift considers that both the stars he - himself saw were planets, and that he did not see Theta at all. - The reasoning in the last five paragraphs of the above essay would - not be in the least affected if we adopted Professor Swift's - conclusion, that four and not three intra-Mercurial planets were - detected during the eclipse of July last. Yet later Professor - Peters of Clinton has indicated reasons for believing that while - Watson simply mistook for planets the two fixed stars, Theta - and Zeta Cancri, Professor Swift saw no planets at all. This - interpretation would account fully, though not very satisfactorily, - for all that is mysterious in the two narratives.] - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 3: Two observations of Uranus, by Bradley, were discovered -by the late Mr. Breen, and published in No. 1463 of the _Astronomische -Nachrichten_.] - -[Footnote 4: Let the student make the following construction if he -entertains any doubt as to the statements made above. Having traced the -orbits of the earth and Uranus from my chart illustrating the article -'Astronomy' in the _Encyc. Brit._, let him describe a circle nearly -twice as large to represent the orbit of Neptune as Bode's law would -give it. Let him first suppose Neptune in conjunction with Uranus in -1820, mark the place of the earth on any given day in 1842, and the -place of the fictitious Neptune; a line joining these points will -indicate the direction of Neptune on the assumptions made. Let him -next make a similar construction on the assumption that conjunction -took place in 1825. (From the way in which the perturbation of Uranus -reached a maximum between 1820 and 1825, it was practically certain -that the disturber was in conjunction with Uranus between those years.) -These two constructions will give limiting directions for Neptune -as viewed from the earth, on the assumption that his orbit has the -dimensions named. He will find that the lines include an angle of a -few degrees only, and that the direction line of the true Neptune is -included between them.] - -[Footnote 5: The problem is in reality, at least in the form in which -Lescarbault attacked it, an exceedingly simple one. A solution of the -general problem is given at p. 181 of my treatise on the _Geometry -of Cycloids_. It is, in fact, almost identical with the problem of -determining the distance of a planet from observations made during a -single night.] - -[Footnote 6: It may be necessary, perhaps, to explain to some why the -western side is on the right in the little maps illustrating this -paper, and not, as usual with maps, on the left. We are supposed to -look down towards the earth in the case of a terrestrial map, and to -look up from the earth in the case of a celestial map, and naturally -right and left for the former attitude become respectively left and -right for the latter.] - - - - -_RESULTS OF THE BRITISH TRANSIT EXPEDITIONS._ - - -Another noteworthy attempt has been made to estimate the distance which -separates our earth from the mighty central orb round which she travels -with her fellow-worlds the planets. In other words, the solar system -itself has been remeasured; for the measurement of any part of the -system is in fact the measurement of the entire system, the proportions -of which, as distinguished from its actual dimensions, have long been -accurately known. - -I propose briefly to describe the results which have been obtained -(after some three years of careful examination) from the observations -made by the British parties sent north, south, east, and west to -observe the transit of Venus on December 9, 1874; and then to consider -how these results compare with those which had before been obtained. -First, however, it may be well to remind the reader of the unfavourable -conditions under which the task of measuring our distance from the -remote sun must of necessity be attacked. - -Not unfrequently we hear the measurement of the sun's distance, and -the various errors which astronomers have had to correct during the -progress of their efforts to deal with the problem, referred to in -terms which would imply that astronomy had some reason to be ashamed -of labours which are in reality among the most noteworthy achievements -of their science. Because, some twenty years ago, the estimate of 95 -million miles, which had for half a century held its ground in our -books of astronomy as the true distance of the sun, was replaced for a -while by an estimate of about 91-1/2 million miles, which has in turn -been displaced for an estimate of about 92-1/3 million miles, it has -been said that astronomy has very little claim to be called the exact -science. It is even supposed by some that astronomy is altogether -at sea respecting the sun's distance--which, if the estimates of -astronomers thus vary in the course of three-quarters of a century, may -in reality, it is thought, be very different from any of the values -hitherto assigned. Others suppose that possibly the sun's distance may -vary, and that the diminution of three or four million miles in the -estimates adopted by astronomers may correspond to an approach of the -earth towards the sun by that amount, an approach which, if continued -at the same rate, would, before many centuries, bring the earth upon -the surface of the sun, to be consumed as fuel perhaps for the warming -of the outer planets, Mars, Jupiter, and the rest. - -All these imaginings are mistaken, however. The exactness of astronomy, -as a science, does not depend on the measurement of the sun's distance -or size, any more than the accuracy of a clock as a timekeeper depends -on the exactness with which the hands of the clock are limited to -certain definite lengths. The skill with which astronomy has dealt with -this particular problem of celestial surveying has been great indeed; -and the results, when considered with due reference to the conditions -of the problem, are excellent: but in reality, if astronomers had -failed utterly to form any ideas whatever as to the sun's distance, if -for aught they knew the sun might be less than one million, or more -than a million millions of miles from us, the exactness of astronomy -as a science would be no whit impaired. And, in the second place, no -doubts whatever need be entertained as to the general inference from -astronomical observations that the sun's distance is between 92 and 93 -millions of miles. All the measurements made during the last quarter -of a century lie between 90 and 95 millions of miles, and by far the -greater number of those made by the best methods, and under the most -favourable conditions, lie between 91 and 94 millions of miles. All -the very best cluster closely around a distance of 92-1/3 millions of -miles. We are not for the moment, however, concerned with the question -of the exact distance, but with the question whether astronomy has -obtained satisfactory evidence that the sun's distance lies in the -neighbourhood of the distances deduced by the various methods lately -employed. Putting the matter as one of probabilities, as all scientific -statements must be, it may be said as confidently that the sun's -distance lies between 85 millions and 100 millions of miles as that the -sun will rise to-morrow; and the probability that the sun's distance -is less than 90 millions, or greater than 95 millions of miles, is so -small that it may in effect be counted almost as nothing. Thirdly, the -possibility that the earth may be drawing nearer to the sun by three -or four millions of miles in a century may be dismissed entirely from -consideration. For, one of the inevitable consequences of such a change -of distance would be a change in the length of the year by about three -weeks; and so far from the year diminishing by twenty days or so in -length during a century, it has not diminished ten seconds in length -during the last two thousand years. If there has been any change year -by year in the earth's distance from the sun, it is one to be measured -by yards rather than by miles. Astronomers would be well content if -their 'probable error' in estimating the sun's distance could be -measured by thousands of miles; so that any possible approach of the -earth towards the sun would go but a very little way towards accounting -for the discrepancies between the different estimates of the distance, -even if these estimates grew always smaller as time passed, which is -assuredly not the case. - -But in truth, if we consider the nature of the task undertaken by -astronomers in this case, we can only too readily understand that their -measurements should differ somewhat widely from each other. Let us -picture to ourselves for a moment the central sun, the earth, and the -earth's path, not as they really are, for the mind refuses altogether -to picture the dimensions even of the earth, which is but an atom -compared with the sun, whose own proportions, in turn, mighty though -they are, sink into utter insignificance compared with the enormous -scale of the orbit in which the earth travels around him. Let us reduce -the scale of the entire system to one 500-millionth part of its real -value: even then we have a tolerably large orbit to imagine. We must -picture to ourselves a fiery globe 3 yards in diameter to represent the -sun, and the earth as a one-inch ball circling round that globe at a -distance of about 325 yards, or about 350 paces. The diameter of the -earth's orbit would on this scale, therefore, be somewhat more than a -third of a mile. If we imagine the one-inch ball moving round the fiery -globe once in a year, while turning on its axis once in a day, we find -ourselves under a difficulty arising from the slowness of the resulting -motions. We should have found ourselves under a difficulty arising from -the rapidity of the actual motions if we had considered them instead. -The only resource is to reduce our time-scale, in the same way that we -have reduced our space-scale: but not in the same degree; for if we did -we should have the one-inch ball circling round its orbit, a third of -a mile in diameter, sixteen times in a second, and turning on its axis -five thousand times in a second. Say, instead, that for convenience we -suppose days reduced to seconds. Then we have to picture a one-inch -globe circling once in rather more than six minutes about a globe of -fire 3 yards in diameter, one-sixth of a mile from it, and turning -on its axis once in a second. We must further picture the one-inch -globe as inhabited by some 1,500 millions of creatures far too small -to be seen with the most powerful microscope--in fact, so small that -the tallest would be in height but about the seven-millionth of an -inch--and we must imagine that a few of these creatures undertake the -task of determining from their tiny home swiftly rotating as it rushes -in its orbit around a large globe of fire, 325 yards from them--the -number of yards really intervening between that globe and their home. -If we rightly picture these conditions, which fairly represent those -under which the astronomer has to determine the distance of the sun -from the earth, we shall perceive that the wonder rather is that any -idea of the sun's distance should be obtained at all, than that the -estimates obtained should differ from each other, and that the best of -them should err in measurable degree from the true distance. - -Anything like a full explanation of the way in which transits of Venus -across the sun's face are utilised in the solution of the problem of -determining the sun's distance would be out of place in these pages. -But perhaps the following illustration may serve sufficiently, yet -simply, to indicate the qualities of the two leading methods of using -a transit. Imagine a bird flying in a circle round a distant globe -in such a way that, as seen from a certain window (a circular window -suppose), the bird will seem to cross the face of the globe once in -each circuit. Suppose that though the distance of the globe is not -known, the window is known to be exactly half as far again from the -globe as the bird's path is, and that the window is exactly a yard -in diameter. Now in the first place, suppose two observers watch the -bird, one (A) from the extreme right side, and the other (B) from the -extreme left side of the window, the bird flying across from right -to left. A sees the bird begin to cross the face of the globe before -B does,--say they find that A sees this exactly one second before B -does. But A's eye and B's being 3 feet apart, and the bird two-thirds -as far from the globe as the window is, the line traversed by the bird -in this interval is of course only 2 feet in length. The bird then -flies 2 feet in a second (this is rather slow for a bird, but the -principle of the explanation is not affected on that account). Say it -is further observed that he completes a circuit in exactly ten minutes -or six hundred seconds. Thus the entire length of a circuit is 1,200 -feet,--whence by the well-known relation between the circumference and -the diameter of a circle, it follows that the diameter of the bird's -path is about 382 feet, and his distance from the centre of the globe -191 feet. So that the distance of the globe from the window, known to -be half as great again, is about 286-1/2 feet. - -If we regard the globe as representing the sun; the window of known -size as representing our earth of known dimensions; the bird travelling -round in a known period and at a distance whose proportion to the -window's distance is known, as representing Venus travelling in a known -period round the sun and at a distance bearing a known proportion to -the earth's; this way of determining the distance of a remote globe -illustrates what is called Delisle's method of determining the sun's -distance. It requires that the two observers, A and B, should each make -exact note of the moment when the bird seemed to begin to cross the -disc of the remote globe; and in like manner Delisle's method requires -that two observers, widely separated on the earth in a direction -nearly parallel to that in which Venus is travelling, should make the -most exact note of the moment when Venus begins to cross the sun's -face. Also, as all I have said about the bird's beginning to cross -the face of the distant globe would apply equally well if said about -the end of his seeming passage across that disc, so two observers, -widely separated on the earth, can determine the sun's distance by -noting the end of her transit instead of the beginning, if they are -suitably placed for the purpose. The window of our illustration remains -unchanged during the bird's imagined flight, but as the face of the -earth turned sunwards (which corresponds to that window) is all the -time changing with the earth's rotation, a different pair of stations -would have to be selected for observing the end of transit, than would -be suitable for observing the beginning. - -So much for the method called Delisle's. The other is in principle -equally simple. In the imaginary experiment just described we supposed -the two observers at the right and left sides of the circular window. -Imagine them now to watch the bird from the top and bottom of the -window, 3 feet apart. Suppose they note that the two tracks along -which, as seen from these two points, the bird seems to cross the -face of the distant globe, lie at a distance from each other equal to -one-third of the globe's apparent diameter. Now, the bird being twice -as far from the globe as from the window, the two tracks on the globe -necessarily lie twice as far apart as the two points from which they -are seen--or they lie 6 feet apart. The globe's diameter therefore -is 18 feet. Knowing thus how large it is, and knowing also how large -it looks, the observers know how far from them it lies. So, in the -Halleyan method of determining the sun's distance by observing Venus -in transit, astronomers are stationed far north and far south on the -sunlit half of the earth, corresponding to the window of the imaginary -experiment. Venus corresponds to the bird. The observers note along -what track she travels across the sun's face. (That they partially -determine this by noting how long she is in crossing, in no sense -affects the principle of the method.) They thus learn that such and -such a portion of the sun's diameter equals the distance separating -them,--some six or seven thousand miles perhaps,--whence the sun's -diameter is known. And as we know how large he looks, his distance from -the earth is determined. - -A peculiarity distinguishing this method from the former is that the -observers must have a station whence the whole transit can be seen; -for practically the place of Venus's track can only be ascertained -satisfactorily by timing her passage across the sun's disc, so that -the beginning and end must be observed and very carefully timed. This -is to some degree a disadvantage; for during a transit lasting several -hours the earth turns considerably on her axis, and the face turned -sunwards at the beginning is thus very different from the face turned -sunwards at the end of transit. It is often exceedingly difficult -to find suitable northern and southern stations belonging to both -these faces of the earth. On the other hand, the other method has its -peculiar disadvantage. To apply it effectively, the observer must know -the exact Greenwich time (or any other selected standard time) at his -station,--or in other words he must know exactly how far east or west -his station is from Greenwich (or some other standard observatory). -For all the observations made by this method must be compared together -by some absolute time standard. In the Halleyan method the duration -of transit only is wanted, and this can be as readily determined by a -clock showing local time (or indeed by a clock set going a few minutes -before transit began and showing wrong time altogether, so only that -it goes at the right rate) as by a clock showing Greenwich, Paris, or -Washington time. The clock must not gain or lose in the interval. But a -clock which would gain or lose appreciably in four or five hours, would -be worthless to the astronomer; and any clock employed for scientific -observation might safely be trusted for an interval of that length; -whereas a clock which could be trusted to retain true time for several -days, is not so readily to be obtained. - -We need not consider here the origin of the misapprehension (under -which our principal Government astronomer lay for some time), that -the Delislean method was alone available during the transit of 1874, -the Halleyan method, to use his words, 'failing totally.' The British -stations were selected while this misapprehension remained as yet -uncorrected. Fortunately the southern stations were suitable for -both methods. The northern were not: for this reason, simply, that -one set were so situated that night began soon after the beginning -of transit, which alone could be observed; while the other set were -so situated that night only came to an end a short time before the -transit ended, so that the end of transit only could be observed. No -doubt when the mistake just mentioned had been clearly recognised,--as -it was early in 1873,--measures would have been taken to rectify its -effect by occupying some suitable northern stations for observing the -whole transit, if Great Britain had been the only nation taking part -in the work. Fortunately, however, other nations might be trusted -to occupy the northern region, which had so long been overlooked. -England simply strengthened the southern observing corps: this could -be done without any change by which the Government astronomers would -have seemed to admit that 'some one had blundered.' Thus the matter -was arranged--America, Russia, and Germany occupying a large number -of stations admirably suited for applying the method which had been -supposed to 'fail totally.' The British Official astronomers, on whom -of course responsibility for adequately observing the transit (or -at least for properly applying money granted by the nation for the -purpose) alone rested, did in reality all, or nearly all, that was -necessary in doubling some of the southern observing parties, and -strengthening all of them; for unquestionably other nations occupied -suitable northern stations in sufficiently strong force. - -It is to be remembered, however, in estimating the probable value -of the result which has been deduced from the British observations, -that as yet only a portion of these observations has been effectively -dealt with. The British observations of the beginning of transit at -northern and southern stations give, when combined together, a value -of the sun's distance. The British observations of the end of transit -at other northern and southern stations give also, when combined -together, a value of the sun's distance. And both sets combined give -of course a mean value of the sun's distance, more likely on the whole -to be correct than either value taken separately. But the British -observations of the duration of transit as observed from southern -stations do not of themselves give any means of determining the sun's -distance. They must be combined with observations of the duration of -transit as observed from northern stations; and no British party was -stationed where such observations could be obtained. The value, then, -of these particular British southern observations can only be educed -when comparison is made between them and the northern observations by -American, German, and Russian astronomers. - -We must not, then, be disheartened if the results of the British -operations _alone_ should not seem to be altogether satisfactory. For -it may still happen that that portion of the British operations which -only has value when combined with the work of other countries may -be found to possess extreme value. We had good reason for doubting -beforehand whether results of any great value could be obtained by -Delisle's method. It was only because Halley's was supposed to fail -totally that the Government astronomers ever thought of employing that -method, which the experience of former transits had taught us to regard -as of very little value. - -It may be asked, however, how we are to form an opinion from the result -of calculations based on the Delislean operations during the last -transit, whether the method in satisfactory or not. If as yet the sun's -distance is not exactly determined, a result differing from former -results may be better than any of them, many will think; and therefore -the method employed to obtain it may be more satisfactory than others. -If, they may reason, we place reliance on a certain method to measure -for us a certain unknown distance, how can we possibly tell from the -distance so determined whether the method is trustworthy or not? - -Perhaps the readiest way of removing this difficulty, and also of -illustrating generally the principles on which the determination of -the most probable mean value of many different estimates depends, is -by considering a familiar experience of many, a case in which the -point to be determined is the most probable time of day. Suppose that -we are walking along a route where there are several clocks, the time -shown by our own watch being, for whatever reason, open to question. -We find, say, that as compared with our watch time, one clock is two -minutes fast, the next three minutes fast, the next one minute slow, -and so on, two or three perhaps being as much as six or seven minutes -fast, and two or three being as much as three or four minutes slow as -compared with the watch. We note, however, that these wider ranges of -difference occur only in the case of clocks presumably inferior--cheap -clocks in small shops, old clocks in buildings where manifestly the -flight of time is not much noted, and so forth. Rejecting these from -consideration, we find other clocks ranging from one minute or so -before our watch time to four minutes or so after it. Before striking -a rough average, however, we consider that some among these clocks are -placed where it is on the whole better to be a minute or two before the -time than a second late,--as, for instance, at banks, where there may -be occasion to send out clerks so as to make sure of reaching certain -places (Clearing-House, General Post-office, and so forth) within -specified time limits. On the other hand, we note that others of these -clocks are placed where it is better to be a minute or two after time -than a second before it,--as at railway stations, post-offices, and -so on, where it is essential that the public should be allowed time -fully up to a specified hour, for some particular service. Taking fair -account of such considerations, we might find that most probably the -true time lay between half a minute _before_ and two minutes and a -half _after_ our watch time. And thus we might infer that in reality -the true time was one minute or so later than that shown by our watch. -But if we were well acquainted with the characteristics of different -clocks along our route, we might infer the time (nay, we might to -all intents and purposes _know_ the time) far more accurately than -this. We might, for instance, pass six or seven shop-windows where -first-class specimens of horological work were shown,--in each window, -perhaps, several excellent clocks, with compensated pendulums and other -contrivances for securing perfect working. We might find at one of -these shops all such clocks showing the same time within two or three -seconds; at the next all such clocks also agreeing _inter se_ within -two or three seconds, but perhaps their mean differing from the mean -at the last shop of the kind by seven or eight seconds; and all six -or seven shops, while showing similar agreement as regards the clocks -severally displayed at each, agreeing also with each other so closely -that ten or twelve seconds would cover the entire range between their -several mean times. If this were observed, we should not hesitate to -place entire reliance on these special sets of clocks; and we should -feel certain that if we took the mean of all their means as the true -time (perhaps slightly modifying this mean in order to give due weight -to the known superiority of one or other of these clock-shops), we -should not be in error by more than five or six seconds, while most -probably we should have the time true within two or three seconds. - -So far the illustration corresponds well with what had been done during -a quarter of a century or so before the last transit of Venus. Several -different methods of determining the sun's distance had been applied to -correct a value which for many reasons had come to be looked upon with -suspicion. This value--95,365,000 miles--was known to be certainly too -large. The methods used to test it gave results varying between about -90 million miles and about 96 million miles. But all the methods worthy -of any real reliance gave results lying between 91 million miles and -94 million miles. Not to enter more fully into details than would here -be suitable, we may pass on at once to say that those most experienced -in the matter recognised seven methods of determining the distance, on -which chief reliance must be placed. Of these seven methods, six--each -applied, of course, by many different observers--were dealt with -exhaustively by Professor Newcomb, of the Washington Observatory, a -mathematician who has undoubtedly given closer attention to the general -problem of determining the sun's distance than any living astronomer. -The six methods give six several results ranging from about 92,250,000 -miles to about 92,850,000 miles; but when due weight is given to those -of the six methods which are undoubtedly the best, the most probable -mean value is found to be about 92,350,000 miles. The seventh method, -conceived by Leverrier, the astronomer to whom, with our own Adams, -the discovery of Neptune was due, and applied by him as he only could -have applied it (he alone possessing at once the necessary material and -the necessary skill), gives the value, 92,250,000 miles. From this it -may fairly be concluded that Newcomb's mean value, which has in fact -been accented by all American and Continental astronomers, is certainly -within 600,000 miles, and most probably within 300,000 miles of the -true mean distance of the sun. - -But now, to revert to our illustrative case, let us suppose that after -passing the windows of six or seven horologists, from whose clocks we -have obtained such satisfactory evidence as to the probable hour, we -bethought ourselves of a place where, from what we had heard, a still -more exact determination of the hour might be obtained. While still -on the way, however, we learn from a friend certain circumstances -suggesting the possibility that the clocks at the place in question -may not be so correct as we had supposed. Persisting, however, in our -purpose, we arrive at the place, and carefully compare the indications -of the various clocks there with the time indicated by our watch, -corrected (be it supposed) in accordance with the results of our former -observations. Suppose now that the hour indicated by the various -clocks at this place, instead of agreeing closely with that which we -had thus inferred, differs from it by fully half a minute. Is it not -clear that instead of being led by this result to correct our former -estimate of the probable hour, we should at once infer that the doubts -which had been suggested as to the correctness of the various clocks -at this place were fully justified? The evidence of the other sets of -clocks would certainly not be invalidated by the evidence given by the -set last visited, even if the accuracy of these had not been called -in question. But if, as supposed, some good reason had been given for -doubt on this point,--as for instance, that of late the supervision -of the clocks had been interrupted,--we should not hesitate for a -moment to reject the evidence given by these clocks, or at least to -regard it as only tending to demonstrate what before we had been led -to surmise, namely, that these clocks could not be relied upon to show -true time. If however, furthermore, we found, not only that the mean -of the various times indicated by the clocks at this last-visited -place differed thus widely from the time which we had every reason -to consider very nearly exact, but that the different clocks here -differed as widely from each other, it would be absurd to rely upon -their evidence. The circumstance that there was a range of difference -of fully half a minute in their indications would of itself suffice -to show how untrustworthy they were, at least for the use of any one -who wished to obtain the time with great accuracy. Combined with the -observed difference between their mean time and that before obtained, -this circumstance would prove the inaccuracy of the clocks beyond all -possibility of doubt or question. - -Now the case here imagined corresponds very closely with the -circumstances of the recent attempt to correct our estimate of the -sun's distance by Delisle's method. Our Government astronomers -bethought themselves of this method as likely to give the best -possible means for correcting, by observations of Venus in transit, -the estimate of the sun's distance which had been deduced by Newcomb, -and confirmed by Leverrier. While as yet their plans were not finally -decided upon, reasons for questioning this conclusion were indicated to -those officials by unofficial astronomers entertaining very friendly -feelings towards them. Retaining, however, their reliance on the -method thus called in question, they carried out their purpose, though -fortunately making provision, very nearly sufficient, for the use of -another method. Now, instead of the estimate of the sun's distance -obtained from the observations by Delisle's method agreeing closely -with Newcomb's mean value,--about 92,350,000 miles,--it exceeds this -value by about a million miles. (See, however, note on the last page -of this article.) According to various ways of considering the results -sent in by his observers, the chief official astronomer obtains a mean -value ranging from about 93,300,000 miles to about 93,375,000 miles. -The last named estimate seems preferred on the whole; but if we take -93,350,000 miles, we shall probably give about the fairest final -mean value. We have seen, however, that the results of observations -by seven distinct methods give values ranging only between 92,250,000 -miles and 92,850,000 miles,--the six best methods giving values ranging -only between 92,250,000 miles and about 92,480,000 miles. The new -value thus lies 500,000 miles above the largest and admittedly the -least trustworthy of the seven results, 870,000 miles above the next -largest, a million miles above the mean value, and 1,100,000 miles -above the least value. It certainly ranges 500,000 miles above the -largest admissible value from those seven trusted methods, dealt with -most skilfully, cautiously, and laboriously, by such mathematicians as -Newcomb and Leverrier. - -Can we hesitate as to the inference we should deduce from this result? -We need not for a moment call in question the skill or care with which -the British observing parties carried out their operations. Nor need we -doubt that the results obtained have been most skilfully and cautiously -investigated by those to whom the work of supervision and of reduction -has been entrusted. We need not even question the policy of devoting -so large a share of labour and expense to the employment of a method -held in little favour by most experienced Continental and American -astronomers, and objected to by many in England, including some even -among official astronomers. It was perhaps well that the method should -have one fair and full trial. And it is certain that all who have -taken part in the work have done their duty zealously and skilfully. -Captain Tupman, to whom Sir George Airy, our chief official astronomer, -entrusted the management of the calculations, has received, and justly, -from his official superior, the highest commendation for his energy and -discrimination. But beyond all manner of doubt the method employed has -failed under the test thus applied to it. I do not say that hereafter -the method may not succeed. Some of the conditions which at present -render it untrustworthy are such as may be expected to be modified -with the progress of improvement in the construction of scientific -instruments. But as yet the method is certainly not trustworthy. - -This might be safely concluded from the wide discrepancy between -the new result and the mean of those before obtained. Yet if all -the various observations made by the British observing parties -agreed closely together, the circumstance, though it could hardly -shake our inference on this point, would yet cause some degree -of perplexity, since, of itself, it would seem to imply that the -method was trustworthy. Fortunately we are not thus troubled by -conflicting evidence. The indications of the untrustworthy nature of -the method, derived from the discordance between the results obtained -by it and those before inferred, are not a whit clearer, clear and -convincing though they are, than are the indications afforded by their -discordance _inter se_. The distance derived from northern and southern -observations of the beginning of transit ought of course to be the -same as that derived from northern and southern observations of the -end of transit. If both sets of observations were exactly correct, the -agreement between the results would be exact. The discordance between -them could only be wide as a consequence of some serious imperfection -in this method of observing a transit. But the discordance is _very_ -wide. The observations of the beginning of transit by the British -parties give a distance of the sun exceeding by rather more than a -million miles that deduced from the observations of the end of transit. - -I am well assured that neither Continental nor American astronomers -will accept the new estimate of the sun's distance, unless--which -I venture to predict will not be the case--the entire series of -transit observations should seem to point to the same value as the -most probable mean. Even then most astronomers will, I believe, think -rather that transits of Venus do not afford such satisfactory means -of determining the sun's distance as had been supposed. This opinion, -it is well known, was held by Leverrier, insomuch that he declined -to support with the weight of his influence the proposals for heavy -expenditure by France upon expeditions for observing the recent -transit and the approaching transit of the year 1882. - -I doubt whether many, even among British astronomers, will accept -the new value. Already the Superintendent of the _Nautical Almanac_ -has given his opinion upon it in terms which cannot be regarded as -favourable. 'It is well known,' he says (I quote at least from an -article which has been attributed to him without contradiction on -his part), 'that some astronomers have not expected our knowledge -of the sun's distance to be greatly improved from the observations -of the transit of Venus. Many, we can imagine, will regard with -some suspicion' so great a value as 93,300,000 miles (I substitute -these words for technical expressions identical in real meaning). -'Nevertheless, whatever degree of doubt might be entertained by -competent authorities, it appears to have been felt by those -immediately responsible for action, in different civilised nations -where science is encouraged, that so rare a phenomenon as a transit of -Venus could not be allowed to pass without every exertion being made to -utilise it.' - -Sir George Airy, very naturally, attaches more value to the result of -the British expeditions, or at least of that part of the operations for -which he was responsible, than others are disposed to do. In an address -to the Astronomical Society, he expressed the opinion that 'the results -now presented are well worthy of very great confidence.... Considering -that the number of observers was eighteen, and that they made -fifty-four observations, and considering also the degree of training -they had, and their zeal, and the extreme care that was taken in the -choice of stations, I think,' he said, 'that there will not be anything -to compete with the value which has been deduced.' This is, as I have -said, very naturally his opinion; and although ordinarily it is rather -for the employers than for the employed to estimate the value of the -results sent in, yet at least we cannot object to his just and generous -praise of those who have worked under his orders. - -Nevertheless, it must not be forgotten that on a former occasion -when equal satisfaction was expressed with the result of a rather -less costly but still a laborious and difficult experiment, the -scientific world did not accept (and has since definitely rejected) -the conclusion thus confidently advanced. I refer to the famous -Harton Colliery experiment for determining the mass of the earth. -The case is so closely analogous to that we are dealing with, that -it will be instructive briefly to describe its leading features. -Maskelyne, formerly the chief Government astronomer of this country, -from observations of the effect of the mass of Mount Schehallien in -deflecting a plumb-line, had inferred that the density of the earth -is five times that of water. Bouguer from observations in Chimborazo, -and Colonel James from observations on Arthur's Seat, had deduced -very similar results. From pendulum observations on high mountains, -Carlini and Plana made the earth's density very nearly the same. -Cavendish, Reich, and our own Francis Baily, weighed the earth against -two great globes of lead, by a method commonly known as the Cavendish -experiment, but really invented by Michell. These experiments agreed -closely together, making the earth's density about 5-1/2 times that of -water, or giving to the earth a mass equivalent to that which would -be contained in 6,000 millions of millions of millions of tons. Now, -from the Harton Colliery experiments, in 1854, in which the earth's -weight was estimated by comparing the vibrations of a pendulum at the -mouth of the mine with those of a similar pendulum at a depth of about -1,260 feet, it appeared that the earth's density is rather more than -6-1/2 times that of water, corresponding to an increase in our estimate -of the earth's mass by nearly 1,100 millions of millions of millions -of tons, or by more than a sixth of the entire mass resulting from -the most trustworthy former measurements. Sir G. Airy considered that -'this result will compete on at least equal terms with those obtained -by other methods;' but nearly a quarter of a century has passed during -which no competent astronomer has adopted this opinion, or even -suggested any modification of the former mean estimate of the earth's -mass on account of the unexpectedly large value deduced from the Harton -experiment. - -It appears to me probable that a similar fortune will attend the latest -measurement of the sun's distance. But fortunately the matter will -not rest merely on measurements already made. Many fresh measurements -will be made during the next few years by methods already tried and -_not_ (like Delisle's transit method) found wanting. The recent -close approach of the planet Mars was not allowed to pass without a -series of observations specially directed to the determination of the -sun's distance; and we know that observations of Mars are among the -most advantageous means available for the solution of this difficult -problem. It was indeed from such observations that the first really -trustworthy measures of the sun's distance were obtained two centuries -ago. The small planets which travel in hundreds between the paths of -Mars and Jupiter have also been pressed into the service. And now so -many of these are known that scarcely a month passes without one or -other of them being favourably placed for the purpose of distance -measurements. For this too their star-like discs make these bodies -specially suitable. - -The most probable inference respecting the results obtained by the -British expedition is that their chief value resides in the evidence -which they afford respecting the Delislean method of observation. They -seem to demonstrate what had before been only surmised (though with -considerable confidence by some astronomers), that this method cannot -be relied upon to correct our estimate of the sun's distance. In the -transit of 1882, which by the way will be visible in this country, we -may be certain that other and more satisfactory methods of observation -will be employed. - -Before concluding, it may be well to make a few remarks upon some -misapprehensions which seem to exist as to the propriety in the first -place, and the desirability in the second, of comments upon the -arrangements adopted by Government astronomers to utilize particular -astronomical phenomena, and upon the value of the results which may -be obtained by means of such arrangements. Many seem to suppose that -astronomical matters are in some sense like military or naval (warlike) -manoeuvres, to be discussed effectively only by those who 'are under -authority, having (also) soldiers under them,' in other words by -Government astronomers. It would be very unfortunate for science -were this so, seeing that in that case those chiefly responsible for -the selection of methods and the supervision of operations would be -perfectly free from all possibility of criticism. No one under their -authority would be very likely to speak unfavourably of their plans. -And no one possessing higher general authority would be likely to have -any adequate knowledge of astronomy to form an opinion, either as to -the efficiency of the arrangements adopted in any case, or as to the -significance of the results obtained. In warlike matters, to some -degree, the wisdom of the strategy employed is tested by results which -all can appreciate, seeing that they affect directly the well-being of -the nation. Moreover, there are special reasons in these cases why in -the first place there should be a complete system of subordination, -and why in the second few should undertake the study of the science -unless they proposed to take their part in its practical application -and therefore to submit to its disciplinary system. But it is quite -otherwise with the science of astronomy. The nation requires, chiefly -for the regulation of its commerce, a certain number of trained -astronomers, to carry out systematically observations of a certain -class,--observations having in the main scarcely any closer relation -to the real living science of astronomy than land surveying has to -such geology as Lyell taught, or the bone-trade to the science of -anatomy. The stars by their diurnal motion form the most perfect -time-measurers, therefore they must be constantly timed by trained -observers. The sun and moon are the most effective time-indicators for -seamen, and therefore their movements must be most carefully noted. -Our _Nautical Almanac_ in fact embodies the kind of astronomical -materials which Government astronomers are employed to collect and -arrange. Such work may rather be called celestial surveying than -astronomy. But from the days of Flamsteed, the first of our Astronomers -Royal (as the chief Government astronomer is technically called) whose -contemporary, Newton, discovered the great law of the universe, to -those of Maskelyne and Sir G. Airy, whose contemporaries, the elder and -the younger Herschel, disclosed the structure of the universe, there -have always been astronomers outside the ranks of official astronomy, -in no way desirous of entering those ranks, and in fact so taking -their course from the beginning of their study of the science as to -preclude themselves from all possibility of undertaking any official -duties in astronomy. 'Non sua se voluntas,' necessarily, 'sed suæ vitæ -rationes, hoc aditu laudis, qui semper optimo cuique maxime patuit, -prohibuerunt:' though, indeed, it may not untruly be said that to one -who apprehends the true sublimity of astronomy as a science the routine -of official astronomy is by no means inviting, and probably personal -tastes have had very much to do with the choice, by such men, of the -more attractive departments of astronomy. Be this as it may, it is -certain that the astronomers who thus keep outside the official ranks -are not only free, and may not only be fully competent, to express an -opinion on the arrangements made by Government astronomers, or on the -results obtained by them, but as the only members of the community -who are at once free and able so to do, their right to speak may -often involve, in some degree, the duty of speaking. If through some -mistake wrong arrangements were proposed for instance,--and all men, -even officials (Herbert Spencer says, _especially_ officials), are -apt to make mistakes,--then, unless non-official astronomers, who had -carefully examined the subject, expressed their doubts, it is certain -that there would be no means whatever of correcting the error, or even -of detecting its consequence, until many years had elapsed. The leading -official astronomers would in such a case be apt, in fact they are apt -enough as it is, to stand by each other,--a chief in one department -commending the zeal and energy of the chief in another department, -this chief in turn commending the industry and ability of the other, -and so forth,--while subordinates of all ranks might be apt either to -maintain a judicious silence, or else at least to avoid any utterance -which would endanger their position. It may, on the one hand, be to -some degree questioned whether it would be fitting that discipline -should be so far neglected in such a case that a subordinate should -have eyes to see, or ears to hear, or thoughts to note, any error on -the part of his superior in office. And on the other hand, those who -know little or nothing of astronomy can of course form no opinion on -astronomical matters, however high they may be in authority outside -matters scientific. To assert, then, that it is either improper or -undesirable for unofficial astronomers to comment on the plans or -results of astronomers employed and paid by the nation is practically -equivalent to asserting that it is improper or undesirable for the -work of these paid astronomers to be examined at all,--a conclusion -manifestly absurd.[7] - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 7: The following lines are from a letter of mine, which -appeared in the _Times_ of April 13, some time after the present -article was written:-- - -'A few months ago I said in these columns that the determination of -the sun's distance, then recently communicated to Parliament--namely, -93,375,000 miles--was probably some 800,000 miles too great; and I -spoke of the method on which the determination was based as to some -degree discredited by the wide range of difference both between that -result and the mean of the best former measurements, and between the -several results of which that one was itself the mean. Captain Tupman, -as straightforward as he is skilful and zealous, announces as the -result of a re-examination of the British observations a distance -about 600,000 miles less than the above, or, more exactly, about -92,790,000 miles, as the sun's mean distance. But while he obtains from -the ingress observations a mean distance of only 92,300,000 miles, -he obtains from the egress observations a mean distance of about -93,040,000 miles; and the value, 92,790,000 miles, is only obtained as -the mean of these two values duly weighted, the egress observations -being more satisfactory than the ingress observations. 'It appears to -me that the doubts which I formerly expressed as to the trustworthiness -of the method employed, are to some degree justified. - -'To the general public it will be more interesting to inquire what -probably is the true mean distance of the sun. To this it may be -replied that in all probability the sun's mean distance does not lie so -much as 600,000 miles on either side of the value 92,300,000 miles' (it -should be 92,400,000).] - - - - -_THE PAST HISTORY OF OUR MOON._ - - -The moon, commonly regarded as a mere satellite of the earth, is -in truth a planet, the least member of that family of five bodies -circling within the asteroidal zone, to which astronomers have given -the name of the terrestrial planets. There can be no question that -this is the true position of the moon in the solar system. In fact, -the fashion of regarding her as a mere attendant of our earth may be -looked upon as the last relic of the old astronomy in which our earth -figured as the fixed centre of the universe, and the body for whose -sake all the celestial orbs were fashioned. In this aspect, also, the -moon is a far more interesting object of research than when viewed as -belonging to another and an inferior order. We are able to recognise, -in her, appearances probably resulting from the relative smallness of -her dimensions, and hence to derive probable information as to the -condition of other orbs in the solar system which fall below the earth -in point of size. Precisely as the study of the giant planets, Jupiter -and Saturn, has led astronomers to infer that certain peculiarities -must result from vastness of dimensions, so the study of the dwarf -planets, Mars, our moon, and Mercury, may indicate the relations we are -to associate with inferiority of size. - -This thought immediately introduces us to another conception, which -causes us to regard with even greater interest the evidence afforded -by the moon's present condition. It can scarcely be questioned that -the size of any member of the solar system, or rather the quantity -of matter in its orb, assigns, so to speak, the duration of that -orb's existence, or rather of the various stages of that existence. -The smaller body must cool more rapidly than the larger, and hence -the various periods during which the former is fit for this or that -purpose of planetary life (I speak with purposed vagueness here) are -shorter than the corresponding periods in the life of the latter. -Thus the sun, viewed in this way, is the youngest member of the solar -system, while the tiniest members of the asteroid family, if not the -oldest in reality, are the oldest to which the telescope has introduced -us. Jupiter and Saturn come next to the sun in youth; they are still -passing through the earliest stages of planetary existence, even if we -ought not rather to adopt that theory of their condition which regards -them as subordinate suns, helping the central sun to support life on -the satellites which circle around them. Uranus and Neptune are in -a later stage, and perchance when telescopes have been constructed -large enough to study these planets with advantage, we may learn -something of that stage, interesting as being intermediate to the -stages through which our earth and Venus on the one hand, and the giant -brothers Jupiter and Saturn on the other, are at present passing. After -our earth and Venus, which are probably at about the same stage of -planetary development (though owing to the difference in their position -they may not be equally adapted for the support of life), we come to -Mars and Mercury, both of which must be regarded as in all probability -much more advanced and in a sense more aged than the earth on which -we live. In a similar sense,--even as an ephemeron is more aged after -a few hours of existence than a man after as many years,--the small -planet which we call 'our moon' may be described as in the very -decrepitude of planetary existence, nay (some prefer to think), as even -absolutely dead, though its lifeless body still continues to advance -upon its accustomed orbit, and to obey the law of universal attraction. - -Considerations such as these give singular interest to the discussion -of the past history of our moon, though they add to the difficulty of -interpreting the problems she presents to us. For we have manifestly to -differentiate between the effects due to the moon's relative smallness -on the one hand, and those due to her great age on the other. If -we could believe the moon to be an orb which simply represents the -condition to which our earth will one day attain, we could study her -peculiarities of appearance with some hope of understanding how they -had been brought about, as well as of learning from such study the -future history of our own earth. But clearly the moon has had another -history than our earth. Her relative smallness has led to relations -such as the earth never has presented and never will present. If our -earth is, as astronomers and physicists believe, to grow dead and cold, -all life perishing from her surface, it is tolerably clear, from what -we already know of her history, that the appearance she will present -in her decrepitude will be utterly unlike that presented by the moon. -Grant that after the lapse of enormous time-intervals the oceans now -existing on the earth will be withdrawn beneath her solid crust, -and even (which seems incredible) that at a more distant future the -atmosphere now surrounding her will have become greatly reduced in -quantity, either by similar withdrawal or in any other manner, yet the -surface of the earth would present few features of resemblance to that -of the moon. Viewed from the distance at which we view the moon, there -would be few crateriform mountains indeed compared with those on the -moon; those visible would be small by comparison with lunar craters -even of medium dimensions; and the radiated regions seen on the moon's -surface would have no discernible counterpart on the surface of the -earth. The only features of resemblance, under the imagined conditions, -would be probably the partially flat sea bottoms (though these would -bear a different proportion to the more elevated regions) and the -mountain ranges, the only terrestrial features of volcanic disturbance -which would be relatively more important than their lunar counterparts. - -I do not purpose, however, to discuss the probable future of the -earth, having only indicated the differences just touched upon in order -to remind the reader at the outset that we have not in 'the moon' a -representation of the earth at any stage of her history. Other and -different relations are presented for our consideration, although it -may well be that by carefully discussing them we may learn somewhat -respecting our earth, as also respecting the past history and future -development of the solar system. - -It appears reasonable to regard the moon, after her first formation as -a distinct orb, as presenting the same general characteristics that we -ascribe to our earth in its primary stage as a planet. In one respect -the moon, even at that early stage, may have differed from the earth. -I refer to its rotation, the correspondence between which and its -revolution may probably have existed from the moon's first formation. -But this would not materially have affected the relations with which we -have to deal at present. We may apply, then, to the moon the arguments -which have been applied to the discussion of the first stages of our -earth's history. - -Adopting this view, we see that at the first stage of its existence -as an independent planet, the moon must have been an intensely heated -gaseous globe, glowing with inherent light, and undergoing a process of -condensation, 'going on at first at the surface only, until by cooling -it must have reached the point where the gaseous centre was exchanged -for one of combined and liquefied matter.' To apply now to the moon at -this stage the description which Dr. Sterry Hunt gives of the earth. -'Here commences the chemistry of the moon. So long as the gaseous -condition of the moon lasted, we may suppose the whole mass to have -been homogeneous; but when the temperature became so reduced that the -existence of chemical compounds at the centre became possible, those -which were most stable at the elevated temperature then prevailing -would be first formed. Thus, for example, while compounds of oxygen -with mercury, or even with hydrogen, could not exist, oxides of -silicon, aluminium, calcium, magnesium, and iron, might be formed and -condensed in a liquid form at the centre of the globe. By progressive -cooling still other elements would be removed from the gaseous mass, -which would form the atmosphere of the non-gaseous nucleus.' 'The -processes of condensation and cooling having gone on until those -elements which are not volatile in the heat of our ordinary furnaces -were condensed into a liquid form, we may here inquire what would be -the result on the mass of a further reduction of temperature. It is -generally assumed that in the cooling of a liquid globe of mineral -matter congelation would commence at the surface, as in the case of -water; but water offers an exception to most other liquids, inasmuch as -it is denser in the liquid than in the solid form. Hence, ice floats -on water, and freezing water becomes covered with a layer of ice which -protects the liquid below. Some metals and alloys resemble water in -this respect. With regard to most other earthy substances, and notably -the various minerals and earthy compounds like those which may be -supposed to have made up the mass of the molten globe, the case is -entirely different. The numerous and detailed experiments of Charles -Deville and those of Delesse, besides the earlier ones of Bischoff, -unite in showing that the density of fused rocks is much less than that -of the crystalline products resulting from their slow cooling, these -being, according to Deville, from one-seventh to one-sixteenth heavier -than the fused mass, so that if formed at the surface they would, in -obedience to the laws of gravity, tend to sink as soon as formed.' - -Here it has to be noted that possibly there existed a period (for -our earth as well as for the moon) during which, notwithstanding the -relations indicated by Dr. Hunt, the exterior portions of the moon -were solid, while the interior remained liquid. A state of things -corresponding to what we recognise as possible in the sun may have -existed. For although undoubtedly any liquid matter forming in the -sun sinks in obedience to the laws of gravity towards the centre, yet -the greater heat which it encounters as it sinks must vapourise it, -notwithstanding increasing pressure, so that it can only remain liquid -near the region where rapid radiation allows of sufficient cooling -to produce liquefaction. And in the same way we may conceive that -the solidification taking place at any portion of the surface of the -moon's or the earth's liquid globe, owing to rapid radiation of heat -thence, although it might be followed immediately by the sinking of the -solidified matter, would yet result in the continuance (rather than the -existence) of a partially solid crust. For the sinking solid matter, -though subjected to an increase of pressure (which, in the case of -matter expanding on liquefaction, would favour solidification), would -nevertheless, owing to the great increase of heat, become liquefied, -and, expanding, would no longer be so much denser[8] than the liquid -through which it was sinking as to continue to sink rapidly. - -Nevertheless, it is clear that after a time the heat of the interior -parts of the liquid mass would no longer suffice to liquefy the solid -matter descending from the surface, and then would commence the process -of aggregation at the centre described by Dr. Hunt. The matter forming -the solid centre of the earth consists probably of metallic and -metalloidal compounds of elements denser than those forming the known -portions of the earth's crust.[9] In the case of the moon, whose mean -density is very little greater than the mean density of the matter -forming the earth's crust, we must assume that the matter forming the -solid nucleus at that early stage was relatively less in amount, or -else that we may attribute part of the difference to the comparatively -small force with which lunar gravity operated during various stages of -contraction and solidification. - -In the case of the moon, as in that of the earth, before the last -portions became solidified, there would exist a condition of imperfect -liquidity, as conceived by Hopkins, 'preventing the sinking of the -cooled and heavier particles, and giving rise to a superficial crust, -from which solidification would proceed downwards. There would thus -be enclosed between the inner and outer solid parts a portion of -uncongealed matter,' which may be supposed to have retained its -liquid condition to a late period, and to have been the principal -seat of volcanic action, whether existing in isolated reservoirs or -subterranean lakes, or whether, as suggested by Scrope, forming a -continuous sheet surrounding the solid nucleus. - -Thus far we have had to deal with relations more or less involved -in doubt. We have few means of forming a satisfactory opinion as to -the order of the various changes to which, in the first stages of -her existence as a planet, our moon was subject. Nor can we clearly -define the nature of those changes. In these matters, as with the -corresponding processes in our earth's case, there is much room for -variety of opinion. - -But few can doubt that, by whatever processes such condition may have -been attained, the moon, when her surface began to form itself into its -present appearance, consisted of a globe partially molten surrounded -by a crust at least partially solidified. Some portions of the actual -surface may have remained liquid or viscous later than others but at -length the time must have arrived when the radiating surface was almost -wholly solid. It is from this stage that we have to trace the changes -which have led to the present condition of the moon's surface. - -It can scarcely be questioned that those seismologists are in the -right who have maintained in recent times the theory that in the -case of a cooling globe, such as the earth or moon at the stage just -described, the crust would in the first place contract more quickly -than the nucleus, while later the nucleus would contract more quickly -than the crust. This amounts, in fact, to little more than the -assertion that the process of heat radiation from the surface would be -more rapid, and so last a shorter time than the process of conduction -by which in the main the nucleus would part with its heat. The crust -would part rapidly with its heat, contracting upon the nucleus; but -the very rapidity (relative) of the process, by completing at an early -stage the radiation of the greater portion of the heat originally -belonging to the crust, would cause the subsequent radiation to be -comparatively slow, while the conduction of heat from the nucleus -to the crust would take place more rapidly, not only relatively but -actually. - -Now it is clear that the results accruing during the two stages into -which we thus divide the cooling of the lunar globe would be markedly -different. During the first stage forces of tension (tangential) would -be called to play in the lunar crust; during the later stage the forces -would be those of pressure. - -Taking the earlier stage, during which the forces would be tensional, -let us consider in what way these forces would operate. - -At the beginning, when the crust would be comparatively thin, I -conceive that the more general result of the rapid contraction of -the crust would be the division of the crust into segments, by the -formation of numerous fissures due to the lateral contraction of -the thin crust. The molten matter in these fissures would film over -rapidly, however, and all the time the crust would be growing thicker -and thicker, until at length the formation of distinct segments would -no longer be possible. The thickening crust, plastic in its lower -strata, would now resist more effectively the tangential tensions, -and when yielding would yield in a different manner. It was at this -stage, in all probability, that processes such as those illustrated by -Nasmyth's globe experiments took place, and that from time to time the -crust yielded at particular points, which became the centres of systems -of radiating fissures. Before proceeding, however, to consider the -results of such processes, let it be noted that we have seen reason to -believe that among the very earliest lunar formations would be rifts -breaking the _ancient_ surface of the lunar crust. I distinguish in -this way the ancient surface from portions of surface whereof I shall -presently have to speak as formed at a later time. - -Now let us conceive the somewhat thickened crust contracting upon -the partially fluid nucleus. If the crust were tolerably uniform in -strength and thickness we should expect to find it yielding (when -forced to yield) at many points, distributed somewhat uniformly over -its extent. But this would not be the case if--as we might for many -reasons expect--the crust were wanting in uniformity. There would -be regions where the crust would be more plastic, and so readier to -yield to the tangential tensions. Towards such portions of the crust -the liquid matter within would tend, because there alone would room -exist for it. The down-drawing, or rather in-drawing, crust elsewhere -would force away the liquid matter beneath, towards such regions of -less resistance, which would thus remain at (and be partly forced -to) a higher level. At length, however, the increasing tensions thus -resulting would have their natural effect; the crust would break -open at the middle of the raised region, and in radiating rifts, -and the molten matter would find vent through the rifts as well as -at the central opening. The matter so extruded, being liquid, would -spread, so that--though the radiating nature of the rifts would still -be indicated by the position of the extruded matter--there would -be no abrupt changes of level. It is clear, also, that so soon as -the outlet had been formed the long and slowly sloping sides of the -region of elevation would gradually sink, pressing the liquid matter -below towards the centre of outlet, whence it would continue to pour -out so long as this process of contraction continued. All round the -borders of the aperture the crust would be melted, and would continue -plastic long after the matter which had filled the fissures and flowed -out through them had solidified. Thus there would be formed a wide -circular orifice, which would from the beginning be considerably above -the mean level of the moon's surface, because of the manner in which -the liquid matter within had been gathered there by the pressure of -the surrounding slopes.[10] Moreover, around the orifice, the matter -outflowing as the crust continued to contract would form a raised wall. -Until the time came when the liquid nucleus began to contract more -rapidly than the crust, the large crateriform orifice would be full -to the brim (or nearly so), at all times, with occasional overflows: -and as a writer who has recently adopted this theory has remarked, 'We -should ultimately have a large central lake of lava surrounded by a -range of hills, terraced on the outside,--the lake filling up the space -they enclosed.' - -The crust might burst in the manner here considered, at several -places at the same--or nearly the same--time, the range of the -radiating fissures, depending on the extent of the underlying lakes -of molten matter thus finding their outlet; or there might be a -series of outbursts at widely separated intervals of time and at -different regions, gradually diminishing in extent as the crust -gradually thickened and the molten matter beneath gradually became -reduced in relative amount. Probably the latter view should be -accepted, since, if we consider the three systems of radiations from -Copernicus, Aristarchus, and Kepler, which were manifestly not formed -contemporaneously, but in the order in which their central craters have -just been named, we see that their dimensions diminished as their date -of formation was later. According to this view we should regard the -radiating system from Tycho as the oldest of all these formations. - -At this very early stage of the moon's history, then, we regard the -moon as a somewhat deformed spheroid, the regions whence the radiations -extended being the highest parts, and the regions farthest removed from -the ray centres being the lowest.[11] To these lower regions whatever -was liquid on the moon's surface would find its way. The down-flowing -lava would not be included in this description, as being rather viscous -than liquid; but if any water existed at that time it would occupy the -depressed regions which at the present time are called Maria or Seas. - -It is a question of some interest, and one on which different opinions -have been entertained, whether the moon at any stage of its existence -had oceans and an atmosphere corresponding in relative extent to -those of the earth. It appears to me that, apart from all the other -considerations which have been suggested in support of the view that -the moon formerly had oceans and an atmosphere, it is exceedingly -difficult to imagine how, under any circumstances, a globe so large -as the moon could have been formed under conditions not altogether -unlike, as we suppose, those under which the earth was formed (having -a similar origin, and presumably constructed of the same elements), -without having oceans and an atmosphere of considerable extent. The -atmosphere would not consist of oxygen and nitrogen only or chiefly, -any more than, in all probability, the primeval atmosphere of our -own earth was so constituted. We may adopt some such view of the -moon's atmosphere--_mutatis mutandis_--as Dr. Sterry Hunt has adopted -respecting the ancient atmosphere of the earth. Hunt, it will be -remembered, bases his opinion on the former condition of the earth by -conceiving an intense heat applied to the earth as now existing, and -inferring the chemical results. 'To the chemist,' he remarks, 'it is -evident that from such a process applied to our globe would result the -oxidation of all carbonaceous matter; the conversion of all carbonates, -chlorides, and sulphates into silicates; and the separation of the -carbon, chlorine, and sulphur in the form of acid gases; which, -with nitrogen, watery vapour, and an excess of oxygen, would form an -exceedingly dense atmosphere. The resulting fused mass would contain -all the bases as silicates, and would probably nearly resemble in -composition certain furnace-slags or basic volcanic glasses. Such we -may conceive to have been the nature of the primitive igneous rock, -and such the composition of the primeval atmosphere, _which must have -been one of very great density_.' All this, with the single exception -of the italicised remark, may be applied to the case of the moon. The -lunar atmosphere would not probably be dense at that primeval time, -even though constituted like the terrestrial atmosphere just described. -It would perhaps have been as dense, or nearly so, as our present -atmosphere. Accordingly condensation would take place at a temperature -not far from the present boiling-point, and the lower levels of -the half-cooled crust would be drenched with a heated solution of -hydrochloric acid, whose decomposing action would be rapid, though -not aided--as in the case of our primeval earth--by an excessively -high temperature. 'The formation of the chlorides of the various bases -and the separation of silica would go on until the affinities of the -acid were satisfied.' 'At a later period the gradual combination of -oxygen with sulphurous acid would eliminate this from the atmosphere -in the form of sulphuric acid.' 'Carbonic acid would still be a large -constituent of the atmosphere, but thenceforward (that is, after the -separation of the compounds of sulphur and chlorine from the air) there -would follow the conversion of the complex aluminous silicates, under -the influence of carbonic acid and moisture, into a hydrated silicate -of alumina or clay, while the separated lime, magnesia, and alkalies -would be changed into bicarbonates, and conveyed to the sea in a state -of solution.' - -It seems to me that it is necessary to adopt some such theory as to -the former existence of lunar oceans in order to explain some of the -appearances presented by the so-called lunar seas. As regards the -present absence of water we may adopt the theory of Frankland, that the -lunar oceans have withdrawn beneath the crust as room was provided for -them by the contraction of the nucleus. I think, indeed, that there -are good grounds for looking with favour on the theory of Stanislas -Meunier, according to which the oceans surrounding any planet--our own -earth or Mars, for example--are gradually withdrawn from the surface to -the interior. And in view of the enormous length of the time-intervals -required for such a process, we must consider that while the process -was going on the lunar atmosphere would not only part completely with -the compounds of sulphur, chlorine, and carbon, but would be even -still further reduced by chemical processes acting with exceeding -slowness, yet effectively in periods so enormous. But without insisting -on this consideration, it is manifest that--with very reasonable -assumptions as to the density of the lunar atmosphere in its original -complex condition--what would remain after the removal of the chief -portion by chemical processes, and after the withdrawal of another -considerable portion along with the seas beneath the lunar crust, would -be so inconsiderable in quantity as to accord satisfactorily with -the evidence which demonstrates the exceeding tenuity of any lunar -atmosphere at present existing. - -These considerations introduce us to the second part of the moon's -history,--that corresponding to the period when the nucleus was -contracting more rapidly than the crust. - -One of the first and most obvious effects of this more rapid nuclear -contraction would be the lowering of the level of the molten matter, -which up to this period had been kept up to, or nearly up to, the -lips of the great ringed craters. If the subsidence took place -intermittently there would result a terracing of the interior of the -ringed elevation, such as we see in many lunar craters. Nor would -there be any uniformity of level in the several crater floors thus -formed, since the fluid lava would not form parts of a single fluid -mass (in which case, of course, the level of the fluid surface would -be everywhere the same), but would belong to independent fluid masses. -Indeed it may be noticed that the very nature of the case requires us -to adopt this view, since no other will account for the variety of -level observed in the different lunar crater-floors. If these ceased to -be liquid at different times, the independence of the fluid masses is -by that very fact established; and if they ceased to be liquid at the -same time, they must have been independent, since, if communication had -existed between them, they would have shown the uniformity of surface -which the laws of hydrostatics require.[12] - -The next effect which would follow from the gradual retreat of -the nucleus from the crust (setting aside the withdrawal of lunar -seas) would be the formation of corrugations,--in other words, of -mountain-ranges. Mallet describes the formation of mountain-chains as -belonging to the period when 'the continually increasing thickness of -the crust remained such that it was still as a whole flexible enough, -or opposed sufficient resistance of crushing to admit of the uprise of -mountain-chains by resolved tangential pressures.' Applying this to the -case of the moon, I think it is clear that--with her much smaller orb -and comparatively rapid rate of cooling--the era of the formation of -mountain-chains would be a short one, and that these would therefore -form a less important characteristic of her surface than of the -earth's. On the other hand, the period of volcanic activity which would -follow that of chain-formation would be _relatively_ long continued; -for regarding this period as beginning when the thickness of the moon's -crust had become too great to admit of adjustment by corrugation, the -comparatively small pressure to which the whole mass of the moon had -been subjected by lunar gravity, while it would on the one hand cause -the period to have an earlier commencement (relatively), would on the -other leave greater play to the effects of contraction. Thus we can -understand why the signs of volcanic action, as distinguished from the -action to which mountain-ranges are due, should be far more numerous -and important on the moon than on the earth. - -I do not, however, in this place enter specially into the consideration -of the moon's stage of volcanic activity, because already, in the pages -of my Treatise on the Moon (Chapter VI.), I have given a full account -of that portion of my present subject. I may make a few remarks, -however, on the theory respecting lunar craters touched on in my work -on 'The Moon.' I have mentioned the possibility that some among the -enormous number of ring-shaped depressions which are seen on the moon's -surface may have been the result of meteoric downfalls in long past -ages of the moon's history. One or two critics have spoken of this view -as though it were too fantastic for serious consideration. Now, though -I threw out the opinion merely as a suggestion, distinctly stating -that I should not care to maintain it as a theory, and although my -own opinion is unfavourable to the supposition that any of the more -considerable lunar markings can be explained in the suggested way, yet -it is necessary to notice that on the general question whether the -moon's surface has been marked or not by meteoric downfalls scarcely -any reasonable doubts can be entertained. For, first, we can scarcely -question that the moon's surface was for long ages plastic, and though -we may not assign to this period nearly so great a length (350 millions -of years) as Tyndall--following Bischoff--assigns to the period when -our earth's surface was cooling from a temperature of 2000° C. to -200°, yet still it must have lasted millions of years; and, secondly, -we cannot doubt that the process of meteoric downfall now going on is -not a new thing, but, on the contrary, is rather the final stage of a -process which once took place far more actively. Now Prof. Newton has -estimated, by a fair estimate of observed facts, that each day on the -average 400 millions of meteors fall, of all sizes down to the minutest -discernible in a telescope, upon the earth's atmosphere, so that on -the moon's unprotected globe--with its surface one thirteenth of the -earth's--about 30 millions fall each day, even at the present time. Of -large meteoric masses only a few hundreds fall each year on the earth, -and perhaps about a hundred on the moon; but still, even at the present -rate of downfall, millions of large masses _must_ have fallen on the -moon during the time when her surface was plastic, while _probably_ a -much larger number--including many much larger masses--must have fallen -during that period. Thus, not only without straining probabilities, but -by taking only the most probable assumptions as to the past, we have -arrived at a result which compels us to believe that the moon's surface -has been very much marked by meteoric downfall, while it renders it by -no means unlikely that a large proportion of the markings so left would -be discernible under telescopic scrutiny. - -I would, in conclusion, invite those who have the requisite leisure to -a careful study of the distribution of various orders of lunar marking. -It would be well if the moon's surface were isographically charted, -and the distribution of the seas, mountain ranges, and craters of -different dimensions and character, of rills, radiating streaks, bright -and dark regions, and so on, carefully compared _inter se_, with the -object of determining whether the different parts of the moon's surface -were probably brought to their present condition during earlier or -later periods, and of interpreting also the significance of the moon's -characteristic peculiarities. In this department of astronomy, as in -some others, the effectiveness of well-devised processes of charting -has been hitherto overlooked. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 8: It would still be somewhat denser, because under the -circumstances it would be somewhat cooler.] - -[Footnote 9: It is thus, and not by the effects due to increasing -pressure (effects which probably do not increase beyond a certain -point), that we are to explain the fact that the earth's density as a -whole is about twice the mean density of the matters which form its -solid surface. It may be that this consideration, supported by the -results of recent experimental researches, may give a significance -hitherto not noted to the relatively small mean density of the moon.] - -[Footnote 10: I have occasion to make some remarks at this stage -to avoid possible and (my experience has shown me) not altogether -improbable misconception, or even misrepresentation. The theory -enunciated above will be regarded by some, who may have read a certain -review of my Treatise on the Moon, as totally different from what I -have advocated in that work, and, furthermore, as a theory which I -have borrowed from the aforesaid review. I should not be particularly -concerned if I had occasion to modify views I had formerly expressed, -since I apprehend that every active student of science should hope, -rather than dread, that as his work proceeds he would form new -opinions. But I must point out that earlier in my book I had advocated -the theory urged above. After describing the radiations from Tycho -and other craters, I proceed as follows in chapter iv.--'It appears -to me impossible to refer these phenomena to any general cause but -the reaction of the moon's interior overcoming the tension of the -crust, and to this degree Nasmyth's theory seems correct; but it -appears manifest, also, that the crust cannot have been fractured -in the ordinary sense of the word. Since, however, it results from -Mallet's investigations that the tension of the crust is called into -play in the earlier stages of contraction, and its power to resist -contraction in the later stages,--in other words, since the crust at -first contracts faster than the nucleus, and afterwards not so fast as -the nucleus,--we may assume that the radiating systems were formed in -so early an era that the crust was plastic. And it seems reasonable to -conclude that the outflowing matter would retain its liquid condition -long enough (the crust itself being intensely hot) to spread widely,--a -circumstance which would account at once for the breadth of many of -the rays, and for the restoration of level to such a degree that no -shadows are thrown. It appears probable, also, that not only (which is -manifest) were the craters formed later which are seen around and upon -the radiations, but that the central crater itself acquired its actual -form long after the epoch when the rays were formed.'] - -[Footnote 11: Where several ray centres are near together, a region -directly between two ray centres would be at a level intermediate -between that of the ray centres and that of a region centrally placed -within a triangle or quadrangle of ray centres; but the latter region -might be at a higher level than another very far removed from the part -where the ray centres were near together. For instance, the space in -the middle of the triangle having Copernicus, Aristarchus, and Kepler -at its angles (or more exactly between Milichius and Bessarion) is -lower than the surface around Hortensius (between Copernicus and -Kepler), but not so low as the Mare Imbrium, far away from the region -of ray centres of which Copernicus, Aristarchus, and Kepler are the -principal.] - -[Footnote 12: It is important to notice that we may derive from these -considerations an argument as to the condition of the fluid matter now -existing beneath the solid crust of the earth.] - - - - -_A NEW CRATER IN THE MOON._ - - -Dr. Klein, a German astronomer, has recently called the attention of -astronomers to a lunar crater some three miles wide, which had not -before been observed, and which, he feels sure, was not in existence -two years ago. Astronomers have long since given up all hope of tracing -either the signs of actual life upon the moon or traces of the past -existence of living creatures there. But there are still among them -those who believe that by sedulous and careful scrutiny processes of -material change may be recognised in that seemingly inert mass. In -reality, perhaps, the wonder rather is that signs of change should -not be often recognised, than that from time to time a new crater -should appear or the walls of old craters fall in. The moon's surface -is exposed to variations of temperature compared with which those -affecting the surface of our earth are altogether trifling. It is -true there is no summer or winter in the moon. Sir W. Herschel has -spoken of the lunar seasons as though they resembled our own, but -in reality they are very different. The sun's midday height at any -lunar station is only about three degrees greater in summer than in -winter; whereas our summer sun is 47° higher in the sky at noon than -our winter sun. In fact, a midsummer's day on the moon does not differ -more from a midwinter's day, as far as the sun's actual path on the -sky is concerned, than with us the 17th of March differs from the -25th, or the 19th of September from the 27th. It is the change from -day to night which chiefly affects the moon's surface. In the lunar -year of seasons, lasting 346-2/3 of our days, there are only 11-3/4 -lunar days, each lasting 29-3/4 of ours. Thus day lasts more than a -fortnight, and is followed by a night of equal length. Nor is this -all. There is neither air nor moisture to produce such effects as are -produced by our air and the moisture it contains in mitigating the heat -of day and the cold of night. Under the sun's rays the moon's surface -becomes hotter and hotter as the long lunar day proceeds, until at -last its heat exceeds that of boiling water. But so soon as the sun -has set the heat thus received is rapidly radiated away into space (no -screen of moisture-laden air checking its escape), and long before -lunar midnight a cold exists compared with which the bitterest weather -ever experienced by Arctic voyagers would be oppressively hot. These -are not merely theoretical conclusions, though even as such they could -be thoroughly relied upon. The moon's heat has been measured by the -present Lord Rosse (using his father's splendid six-feet mirror). He -separated the heat which the moon simply reflects to us from that which -her heated surface itself gives out (or, technically, he separated -the reflected from the radiated heat), by using a glass screen which -allowed the former heat to pass while it intercepted the latter. He -thus found that about six-sevenths of the heat we receive from the moon -is due to the heating of her own substance. From the entire series of -observations it appeared that the change of temperature during the -entire lunar day--that is, from near midnight to near midday on the -moon--amounts to fully 500° Fahrenheit. If we assume that the cold at -lunar midnight corresponds with about 250° below zero (the greatest -cold experienced in Arctic travelling has never exceeded 140° below -zero), it would follow that the midday heat is considerably greater -than that of boiling water on the earth at the sea-level. But the range -of change is not a matter of speculation. It certainly amounts to about -500°, and in whatever way we distribute it, we must admit, first, that -no such life as we are familiar with could possibly exist on the moon; -and, secondly, that the moon's crust must possess a life of its own, -so to speak, expanding and contracting unceasingly and energetically. -Professor Newcomb, by the way, in his fine work on Popular Astronomy, -rejects the idea that the expansions and contractions due to these -great changes of temperature can cause any disintegration at the -present time. There might, he says, be bodies so friable that they -would crumble, 'but whatever crumbling might thus be caused would soon -be done with, and then no further change would occur.' For my own part, -I cannot consider that such a surface as the moon at present possesses -can undergo these continual expansions and contractions without slow -disintegration. It seems to me also extremely probable that from time -to time the overthrow of great masses, the breaking up of arched -crater-floors, and other sudden changes discernible from the earth, -might be expected to occur. Professor Newcomb has, I conceive, omitted -to consider the enormous volumetric expansion as distinguished from -mere lateral extension, resulting from the heating of the moon's crust -to considerable depths. On a very moderate computation, the surface -of the central region of the full moon must at that time rise above -its mean position to such a degree that hundreds, if not thousands, -of cubic miles of the moon's volume lie above the mean position of -the surface there. At new moon--that is, at lunar midnight for the -same region--the same enormous quantity of matter is correspondingly -depressed. And though the actual range in vertical height at any given -point may be small, we cannot doubt that the total effect produced -by these constant oscillations is considerable. Years or centuries -may pass without any great or sudden change, but from time to time -such catastrophes must surely occur. I believe that all the cases of -supposed change in the moon, if all were regarded as proved, could be -thus fully accounted for without any occasion to assume the action of -volcanic forces properly so called. - -Before considering the evidence for the new lunar volcano to which Dr. -Klein has recently called the attention of astronomers, it may be well -briefly to describe the condition of the moon's surface. - -This surface, which is equal in extent to about that of the American -Continent, or to Europe and Africa together (without their islands), -is divided into two chief portions--the higher levels, which are in -the main of lighter tint, and the lower levels, which are, almost -without exception, dark. It may be remarked in passing that very -erroneous ideas are commonly entertained respecting the moon's general -colour. The moon is very far from being white, as many suppose. On the -contrary, she is far more nearly black than white. It has been well -remarked by Tyndall that if the moon were covered with black velvet -(14,600,000 square miles of that material would be required for the -purpose), she would still appear white to us, for we should see her -disc projected on the blackness of star-strewn space. The actual tint -of the moon as a whole is nearly the same as that of gray weathered -sandstone. The brightest parts, however, are much whiter; Zöllner -infers from his photometric experiments that they can be compared with -the whitest of terrestrial substances. On the other hand, the darkest -parts of the moon are probably far darker than porphyry, even if they -are not so dark that on earth we should call them black. The fact -that the low-lying parts of the moon are much darker than the higher -regions is full of meaning, though hitherto its significance does not -seem to have been much noticed. Either we must assume that these lower -regions, the so-called seas (certainly now dry), are old sea bottoms, -and owe their darkness to the quality of the matter deposited there -in remote ages, or else we must suppose that the matter which last -remained fluid when the moon's surface was consolidating was of darker -material than the rest. For such matter would occupy the lowest lunar -regions. There is here room for a very profitable study of the moon's -aspect by geologists. I doubt not that, however different the general -past history of our earth may have been from the moon's, terrestrial -regions exist where the characteristic features of the moon's surface -are more or less closely illustrated. On the American continent, for -example, there are peculiarities of geological formation which seem -to correspond closely with some of the features of the lunar globe, -presently to be noticed; and it seems to me not improbable that -geologists might find in the study of certain regions in North America -the means of interpreting the difference of tint between higher and -lower levels on the moon. If so, light would probably be thrown on very -difficult questions relating to the remote past, not only of the moon, -but of our own earth. - -The lunar feature which comes next in importance to the difference -of tint between the so-called 'seas' and the higher lands is the -existence of remarkable series of radiating streaks extending from -certain important craters--centres probably of past disturbance. It -is impossible to contemplate the disc of the full moon, as seen with -a powerful telescope, without feeling that these systems of rays must -have resulted from the operation of forces of the most stupendous -nature, though as yet their true meaning is hid from us. They would be -marvellous phenomena, even if they were not so mysterious--marvellous -in their enormous extension, their singular brightness, and -their manner of traversing 'seas,' craters, and mountain-ranges -indifferently. But their chief marvel resides in the mysterious manner -of their appearance as the moon approaches her full illumination. -Other lunar features are most clearly recognised when the moon is not -full, for then the shadows which afford our only means of estimating -the height of lunar irregularities are clearly seen along the border -between the bright and dark parts of her face, and we have only to -wait until this border passes over any object we wish to study to -obtain satisfactory evidence of its nature. It is quite otherwise with -the rays. The regions occupied by these radiating streaks are neither -raised nor depressed in such sort as either to throw shadows or to -lie in shadow when surrounding regions are in sunlight. But when the -moon approaches her full illumination, the radiating regions come into -view, as bright streaks--bright even on the light-tinted lunar uplands. -A mighty system of rays can be seen extending from the great crater -Tycho in all directions. Other systems, scarcely less wonderful, extend -from the battlemented crater, Copernicus, the brilliant Aristarchus, -and the solitary Kepler. One ray from Tycho can be traced round nearly -an entire hemisphere of the moon's surface. It is specially noteworthy -of this great ray that, where it crosses the lunar Sea of Serenity, -that great plain seems to be divided as by a sort of ridge line, the -slope of the plain from either side of the ray's track being clearly -discernible when the moon is near her first quarter. - -What are these mysterious ray systems? How are we to explain the -circumstance that though only the most tremendous forces seem competent -to account for bands such as these, many miles broad and many hundreds -of miles in length, there are yet none of the usual signs of the action -of volcanic forces? If mighty rifts had been formed in the moon's crust -by the outbursting action of a hot nucleus, or through the contraction -of the crust on an unyielding nucleus (for the effect would be the same -in either case), we should scarcely expect to find that after such -rifts had formed no signs of any difference of level would appear. If -lava flowed out all along the rift, one would imagine that it would -form a long dyke which would throw an obvious shadow, except under full -solar illumination. If the rift were not filled with lava, the bottom -of the rift would certainly remain in shadow long after the surrounding -region was illuminated. That lava should exactly fill the rift along -its entire length seems incredible. This might happen by a strange -chance in the case of a single rift, but not with all the rifts of a -radiating system, still less with all the rifts of all the radiating -systems. Yet I believe that neither astronomers nor geologists can form -any other opinion respecting these mysterious ray-systems than that -they were caused by what Humboldt (speaking of the earth) calls the -reaction of the interior on the crust. Nasmyth has admirably indicated -their appearance, or rather their radiating form, by filling a globular -glass shell with water, hermetically closed, and then freezing the -water. The expansion of the water bursts the glass shell, and the lines -of fracture are found to extend in a series of rays from the part of -the shell which first gave way. But this experiment of itself does not -explain the mystery of the lunar rays. Accepting the theory that the -moon's crust yielded in some such way, we have still to explain how -the rifts which were thus formed came to be covered over with matter -lying nearly at the same level as the surrounding surface. It appears -to me that the only available way of explaining this is somewhat as -follows. First, from the way in which the streaks are covered like the -surrounding region with craters, we may conclude that the streaks are -older than any except the largest craters; from the great extension -of many of them, we may safely infer that the lunar crust possessed a -large measure of plasticity when they were formed (for otherwise it -would have yielded over a smaller area). It was, therefore, probably -still hot during the era (which may have lasted millions of years) to -which the formation of the rifts belonged: accordingly the lava which -flowed out through the rifts remained liquid for a considerable time, -and was thus able to spread widely on either side of the rift, forming -a broad band of lava-covered surface, instead of a steep and narrow -dyke. This seems not only to account for the most striking peculiarity -of the bands, but to accord well with all that is known about them, -and even to suggest explanations of some other lunar features which -had appeared perplexing. I understand that in certain regions of North -America there are lava-covered rifts large enough to form geographical -features, and, therefore, fairly comparable with the lunar radiating -streaks. But as yet American geologists have not presented in an -accessible form a description of the peculiar features of the American -continent; in fact, it may be doubted whether as yet the materials for -such a description exist. - -The mountain-ranges of the moon do not differ to any marked degree -from those of our own earth. They are few in number; in fact, -mountain-ranges form a less important feature of lunar than of -terrestrial geography. On the other hand, the lunar ring-mountains and -craters far exceed those of our earth in size and importance. The large -craters may, in fact, be regarded as characteristic features of lunar -scenery. There are several craters exceeding 100 miles in diameter. It -is strange to consider that though the ringed wall surrounding some of -these larger craters exceeds 10,000 feet in height, no trace of the -highest peaks of such a wall would be visible from the middle of the -enclosed plain. Conversely, an observer standing on one of the highest -peaks beside one of these great craters, would not see half the floor -of the crater, while more than half the horizon line around him would -belong to the enclosed plain, and would appear as level as the horizon -seen from a height overlooking a great prairie. These ringed plains -and larger craters seem to belong to the third great era of the moon's -history. The bright high regions and dark low levels called seas must -have been formed while the greater part of the crust was intensely -hot. The contraction of the cooling crust on the nucleus, which cooled -far less slowly, led to the formation of the great ray systems. But -though such systems extend from great craters, these craters themselves -probably attained their present form far later. The crust having in -great part cooled, the nucleus began in turn to shrink more quickly -than the crust, having more heat to part with. Thus the crust, closing -in upon the shrinking nucleus, formed the corrugations and wrinkles -which can be seen under telescopic scrutiny in nearly every part of -the visible lunar surface. The process was accompanied necessarily -by the development of great heat--the thermal equivalent of the -mechanical process of contraction. Mallet has shown that the process -of contraction at present occurring in the earth's crust gives rise -to the greater part of the heat to which volcanic phenomena are due. -If this is so in the earth's case at present, how tremendous must have -been the heat evolved by the far more rapid contraction of the moon's -mass in the remote era we are considering, when probably her heat -passed into space unchecked by the action of a dense moisture-laden -atmosphere! We can well understand that enormous volumes of heated gas -would be formed--including steam, for there is good reason to believe -that water is present in large quantities in the moon's interior. The -imprisoned gas would find an outlet at points of least resistance, -the centres, namely, of the great radiating systems of streaks. These -centres would certainly be regions of outlet. But they would not be -sufficient. We can understand then why every ray system extends from -a great crater, though that crater was really formed after the system -of radiating streaks; and we can equally understand why these central -craters are not the only or even the chief of the great craters in the -moon. Here again I would suggest that possibly the careful study of -American geology might disclose features illustrating the great lunar -craters. - -When we pass to the smaller craters, ranging in diameter from seven -or eight miles to less than a quarter of a mile, even if there be not -some far smaller and beyond the range of the most powerful telescopes -man can construct, we find ourselves among objects resembling those -with which the study of our own earth has rendered us familiar. When -Sartorius's map of Etna and the surrounding region was first seen at -the Geological Society's rooms, many supposed that it represented -lunar features. The Vesuvian volcanic region, again, is presented -side by side with a lunar region of similar extent in Nasmyth's fine -treatise on the moon, and the resemblance is very close. Considering -the part which water plays in producing terrestrial volcanic phenomena, -it may reasonably be doubted whether there is in reality so close a -resemblance as a superficial comparison (and we can make no other) -would suggest. There are those, indeed, who believe that some of the -multitudinous small craters of the moon have had their origin in the -downfall of meteoric masses on her once plastic surface; and strange -though the thought may seem, there would be considerable difficulty -in showing how the surface of the moon could have remained without -traces of the meteoric downfall to which during myriads of centuries -she was exposed undefended by that atmospheric shield which protects -our earth from millions of meteors yearly falling upon her. We could -only attribute the smallest lunar craters, however, to this cause. -It may be noticed in passing that Professor Newcomb, apparently -referring to this suggestion, which some had thought too fanciful to -be seriously advanced, says that 'the figures of these inequalities -(the small craters) can be closely imitated by throwing pebbles upon -the surface of some smooth plastic mass, as mud or mortar.' Craters, -however, larger than a mile or so in diameter, and many also of smaller -dimensions, must be regarded as due to the same process of contraction -which produced the great craters, but as belonging to an era when this -process went on less actively. In like manner another feature of the -moon's surface, the existence of narrow furrows called _rilles_, which -sometimes extend to a considerable distance, passing across levels, -intersecting crater walls, and reappearing beyond mountain-ranges as -though carried under like tunnels, must be regarded as due to the -cracking of the crust thus slowly shrinking. - -It is noteworthy that the signs of change which have been suspected -during recent years belong to these smaller and probably more recent -lunar formations. In November, 1866, Dr. Schmidt, chief of the -Athens Observatory, announced that the crater Linné in the lunar -Sea of Serenity was missing. To understand the importance of this -announcement, let it simply be noted that the quantity of matter -necessary to fill that crater up would be at least equal to that -which would be required to form a mountain covering the whole area -of London to a height of two miles! The crater was described by -former lunar observers as at least five miles in diameter and very -deep. It is not now actually missing, as Schmidt supposed, but it is -certainly no longer deep. It is, in fact, exceedingly shallow. Sir -J. Herschel's opinion was that the crater had been filled up from -beneath by an effusion of viscous lava, which, overflowing the rim on -all sides, poured down the outer slope so as to efface its ruggedness -and convert it into a gradual declivity casting no stray shadows. But -the stupendous nature of the disturbing forces necessary to produce -such an overflow of molten matter has led most astronomers to adopt -in preference the theory that the wall surrounding the crater has -been overthrown, either in consequence solely of the processes of -contraction and expansion described above, or from the reinforcement -of their action by the effects due to sublunarian energies. Some -consider that the descriptions of the crater by Mädler and Lohrmann -(which slightly differ) were erroneous, and that there has been no real -change. Others deny that any change has occurred, on the ground that -Linné varies in aspect according to the manner of its illumination. -This I perceive is Professor Newcomb's explanation, who considers -such variations 'sufficient to account for the supposed change.' But -since the time of Schmidt's announcement Linné has several times been -observed under nearly the same conditions as by Mädler and Lohrmann, as -the great shadows formerly seen in its interior have not reappeared. -There seems to be great reason for believing that a change has really -occurred there. - -The discovery announced by Dr. Klein is of a different nature. Near the -middle of the visible half of the moon there is a well-known though -small crater called Hyginus, the neighbourhood of which has been often -and carefully examined. While examining this part of the moon's surface -with an excellent 5-1/2in. telescope, in May, 1877, Dr. Klein observed -a small crater full of shadow, and apparently nearly three miles in -diameter. It formed a conspicuous object on the Sea of Vapours. Having -frequently observed this region during the last few years, he felt -certain that no such crater existed there in 1876. He communicated -his discovery to Dr. Schmidt, who stated, in reply, that in all the -numerous drawings he had made of this lunar region no such crater was -indicated. It is not shown in the great chart by Beer and Mädler, or in -Lohrmann's map. Further observation showed that the crater is a deep, -conical opening in the moon's surface. Soon after the sun has risen -at that part of the moon, and, as later observations confirm, shortly -before sunset there, the opening is entirely in shadow, and appears -black. But when the sun is rather higher it appears grey, and with a -yet higher sun it can no longer be distinguished. It can, however, be -seen when the sun is very high on that part of the moon, appearing then -somewhat brighter than the surrounding region, a circumstance which -does not hitherto seem to have been noticed by either Klein or Schmidt. - -The moon's surface has been so long and so carefully studied, that it -is almost impossible to understand how such a crater as now certainly -exists in the Sea of Vapours near Hyginus could have escaped detection. -Craters of the kind exist, indeed, in hundreds on the moon's surface. -But many astronomers have given years of their life to the study of -such objects; and the centre of the moon's disc, for reasons which -astronomers will understand, has been studied with exceptional care. -It seems so unlikely that a deep crater three miles in diameter could -escape recognition, that some astronomers have not hesitated to regard -the newly-detected crater as certainly a new formation. For my own -part, though it seems almost impossible to explain how such a crater -could have remained so long unnoticed, I can regard the evidence of -change as amounting only to extreme probability so far as it depends on -the result of past telescopic scrutiny of the moon. - -Admitting that a change had occurred, it would not follow that it had -been produced by volcanic forces. It seems far more likely that a -floor originally covering the conical hole now existing in the Sea -of Vapours has given way at last under the effect of long-continued -processes of expansion and contraction, which would operate with -special energy over a region, like the Sea of Vapours, near the moon's -equator. - -But there remains to be mentioned a form of evidence respecting -lunar features which could not be effectively applied to the case -of the crater Linné, because the moon had only been subject to the -necessary method of examination during a few years before that crater -was missed. I refer to lunar photography. Many objects less than two -miles in diameter are shown in the best photographs of our satellite -by Rutherfurd, De la Rue, Ellery, and Draper; and as the moon has been -photographed in every phase, some among the views might fairly be -expected to show Klein's crater if it really existed before 1877. I do -not find that in any lunar photographs the crater is shown as a black -or dark gray spot. But in Rutherfurd's splendid photograph of the moon -on March 6, 1865 (when the moon was about nine days five hours old), -the place of Klein's crater is occupied by a small spot lighter than -the surrounding 'sea.' This is the usual appearance of a small crater -under a high sun; and though it may indicate only the existence of a -flat crater floor in 1865 where now a great conical hole exists, it -throws some degree of doubt on the occurrence of any change at all -there. The case strongly suggests the necessity for continuing the -work of lunar photography, which seems of late years to have flagged. -Photographs of the moon should be taken in every aspect and in every -stage of her librational swayings. Possessing such a series, we should -be able to decide at once whether any newly-recognised crater was in -reality a new formation or not. - - - - -_THE NOVEMBER METEORS._ - - -During November 13 and 14 the earth is passing through the region along -which lies the course of the family of meteors called the Leonides, -sometimes familiarly known as the November meteors. When at this time -of the year the meteor region thus traversed by the earth is densely -strewn with meteors, there occurs a display of falling stars, one of -the most beautiful, and, rightly understood, one of the most remarkable -of all celestial phenomena. Of old, indeed, when it was supposed that -these meteors were purely meteorological phenomena, they were not -thought specially interesting objects. They were held by some as mere -weather-portents. It was only when a storm of wind was approaching, -_vento impendente_, according to Virgil, that a shower of meteors was -to be seen. Gross ignorance, indeed, has given to showers of falling -stars an interest surpassing even that which has become attached to -them through the discoveries of modern science, for they have been -regarded as portending the end of the world. The shower of November -13, 1833, which was seen in great splendour in America, frightened the -negroes of the Southern States nearly out of their wits. A planter -of South Carolina relates that he was awakened by shrieks of horror -and cries for mercy from 600 or 700 negroes. When he went out to see -what was the matter, he found the negroes prostrate on the ground, -'some speechless, some with bitterest cries imploring God to spare the -world and them.' There is, however, a grandeur in the interpretation -placed by modern science upon these beautiful displays which dwarfs -into littleness even such ideas as have been suggested by the terrors -of superstition. We perceive that meteors are not mere terrestrial -phenomena, nor of brief existence. They speak to us of domains in space -compared with which the volume of our earth--nay, even the volume of -the sun himself--is a mere point: of time-intervals compared with -which the millions of years spoken of by geologists appear but as mere -seconds. - -The special meteor family whose track the earth crosses on November -13-14 forms a mighty ellipse round the sun, extending more than 19 -times farther from him than the track of our earth, which yet, as -we know, lies more than 92,000,000 miles from the sun. Along this -tremendous orbit the meteors speed with planetary but varying velocity, -crossing the track of our earth with a velocity exceeding by more than -a third her own swift motion of about 19 miles in every second of time. -Coming down somewhat aslant, but otherwise meeting the earth almost -full tilt, the meteors rush into our air at the rate of more than 40 -miles per second. They are so intensely heated as they rush through -it that they are turned into the form of vapour, insomuch that we -never make acquaintance with the members of this particular meteoric -family in the solid form. In this respect they resemble the greater -number of our meteoric visitants. It is, indeed, a somewhat fortunate -circumstance for us that this is so, for if Professor Newton, of Yale -College (United States), is right in estimating the total number of -meteors, large and small, which the earth encounters per annum at -400,000,000, it would be rather a serious matter if all or most of -these bodies were not warded off. The least of them, even though a mere -grain perhaps in weight, would yet, arriving with planetary velocity -exceeding a hundredfold or more the velocity of a cannon-ball, prove -an awkward missile if it struck man or animal. But the air effectually -saves us from all save a few fire-balls which are large enough to -remain in great part solid until they actually strike the earth itself. - -The importance of the meteors in the planetary system will be -recognised when we remember that the November group alone extends along -its oval course in one complete system of meteors for a length of more -than 1,700 millions of miles, with an average thickness of about a -million miles (determined by noting the average time occupied by the -earth in passing through the system on November 13-14), and an unknown -cross breadth which probably does not fall short of three or four -millions of miles. Other systems are, no doubt, far more important, -for it has been found that meteors follow in the track of comets. Now -the November meteors follow in the track of a comet (Tempel's comet of -1866), which was so small when last favourably placed for observation -that it escaped detection by the naked eye. If so small a comet as -this is followed by so large a meteoric system, in which also meteors -are strewn so richly that during the passage of the earth through it, -tens of thousands of meteors have been counted, how vast must be the -numbers and how large probably the individual bodies following in the -track of such splendid comets as Newton's, Donati's (1858), the comets -of 1811, 1847, 1861, and others! For it should be remembered that we -become cognisant of the existence of a meteoric system only when the -earth threads its way through one, when those which she encounters may -become visible as falling stars if it so chances that she encounters -them on the dark or night half of her surface. But the earth is far -smaller compared with a system like the November meteor-flight than a -rifle-ball compared with the largest flight of birds ever yet seen. -Such a ball fired into a very dense and widely extending flock of -birds might encounter here and there along its course some five or six -birds--not one in 10,000, perhaps, of the entire flight; and if the -flock continued flying with unchanging course, a hundred rifle balls -might be fired through it without seemingly reducing its numbers. -Our earth has passed hundreds of times through the November meteor -system, yet its meteoric wealth has scarcely been reduced at all, so -exceedingly minute is the track of the earth through the meteor system -compared with the extension of the system itself. The region through -which the earth has passed is less than a billionth part of the entire -region occupied by the system. But the November system is but one among -several hundreds through which the earth passes--in other words, the -systems which chance to be traversed by that mere thread-like ring in -space traversed each year by the earth, are not a millionth, not a -billionth, of the total number of such systems. It will be conceived, -therefore, that the total amount of meteoric matter, travelling on -orbits of all degrees of eccentricity and extension from the sun and -inclined at all angles to the general plane of the solar system, must -be enormously great. The idea once advanced by an eminent astronomer -that the total quantity of unattached matter, so to speak, existing -within the solar domain must be estimated rather by pounds than by tons -is now altogether exploded. It would be truer to say that the totality -of matter thus freely travelling around the sun must be estimated by -billions of tons rather than by millions. - -Whether it is likely that there will be a display of meteors to-night -(or, rather, to-morrow morning), is a question to which most -astronomers would be disposed, we believe, to reply definitely in the -negative. The display of November 13-14, 1866, was very brilliant; that -of 1867 (best seen in the United States) was almost equally so; but -successive showers steadily diminished. In other words, the part of the -system crossed by the earth in 1866 and 1867 was very rich, but the -part which she crossed afterwards (the rich part having passed far on -towards the remote aphelion of the system outside the orbit of Uranus) -was less rich. For the last few years very few November meteors have -been seen, though the few stragglers which have been seen, and have -been identified as belonging to the family by their paths athwart -the star-depths, have been almost as interesting to astronomers as -the showers of such bodies seen in 1799, 1833, 1866, and 1867. But it -is not altogether impossible that in the small hours 'ayont the twal' -to-morrow morning a shower of meteors may be seen. For Schiaparelli -(the Italian astronomer who first started the ideas which led when -properly followed up to the discovery of the relations existing -between meteors and comets) asserts that it has happened before now -that the November meteors have appeared in great numbers in years -lying midway between the times of _maximum_ display. These times are -separated on the average by about 33-1/4 years. Thus, in 1799, there -was a great display of November meteors, a shower rendered specially -celebrated by Humboldt's description. In 1833 there was another, the -display which so terrified the negroes of South Carolina, but more -interesting scientifically as described by Arago. In 1866 the shower -again attained its _maximum_ splendour, though the display of 1867 was -little inferior. It will not be till 1899 that another great shower of -November meteors may be confidently looked for. But if Schiaparelli -be right, it is quite possible that there may be a shower this year, -due to some scattered flight of the November meteors which, delayed -accidentally (through some special perturbation) many hundreds of years -ago, has come in the course of ages to travel nearly half a circuit -behind the richest part of the system, the 'gem of the meteor-ring,' -as it has been poetically called. Even, however, though no display of -November meteors should be seen, yet the recognition of even a few -scattered stragglers would be exceedingly interesting to astronomers. -A single meteor seen to-night which could be regarded as certainly -belonging to the November system would suffice to show the possibility -that a whole flight of the November meteors might travel at a similar -distance behind the main body. It would be more easy, however, to -identify two such meteors than one, six than two, and a score than -half-a-dozen. The only way in which a meteor can be questioned, so to -speak, respecting the family it belongs to, is by noting its path -across the sky. If this path tends directly from the constellation -Leo (however remote Leo may be from the part of the heavens traversed -by the meteor), the chances are that the meteor is a Leonid, or one -of the November family. If the path tends from that particular part -of the constellation Leo (near the end of the curved blade of the -so-called Sickle in Leo), the probability of the meteor being a Leonid -is increased. If two or more meteors are seen to-morrow morning (after -12.30) which both tend from the Sickle in Leo, even though they seem to -tend in opposite directions, the chances are yet greater that they are -travelling in parallel paths along the track of the November meteors, -but some 2,000 million miles behind the main body. Should the number -mount up to a score or so, the conclusion would be, to all intents and -purposes, certain; and the possible occurrence of even a shower of -Leonids at a time midway between the customary _maxima_ of the meteoric -displays would be placed beyond question. - -We must, however, admit that it seems less likely there will be -anything like a display of Leonids to-night than that patient observers -may be able to identify a few of these bodies, and thus--though by -observations of a less attractive kind--to advance our knowledge of -this interesting system. Far more likely is it that towards the end -of the month there will be a display of meteors belonging to another -and an entirely distinct family, a family scarcely less worthy to be -called November meteors _par excellence_, but actually rejoicing in the -classically unsatisfactory name of Andromeds. - - - - -_EXPECTED METEOR SHOWER._ - -(From the _Times_ of November 25, 1878.) - - -It is probable that during the next three nights some light may be -thrown on one of the most perplexing yet most interesting of all -the problems recently suggested to the study of astronomers. It is -confidently expected that many of those November meteors called -Andromeds will be seen on one or other of those nights, if not on all -three. No meteor systems, not even the famous systems of August and -November, are more remarkable than this singular family. To explain -why astronomers regard the Andromeds with so much interest, it will -be necessary to speak of an object which at first sight seems in no -way connected with them--an object, in fact, which, so long as it was -actually known to astronomers, was never supposed to be connected with -any family of meteors--the celebrated lost comet called Biela's (or, by -Frenchmen, Gambart's comet). In February, 1826, Biela discovered in the -constellation Aries a comet which was found to be travelling in an oval -path round the sun, in a period of about six years seven and a half -months. Tracing its course backwards, astronomers found that it had -been seen in 1772 by Montaigne, and observed for two or three weeks in -that year by Messier, the great comet hunter. Nothing very remarkable -was recognised regarding this comet in 1826, except the fact that its -path nearly intersects that of our own earth; so that if ever the earth -is to encounter a comet, here seemed to be the comet she had to fear. -Great terror was, indeed, excited by the announcement that in 1832 the -comet would cross the earth's track only four or five weeks before the -earth came to the place of danger. But no harm happened. In that year, -and again in 1839, the comet returned quietly enough, though in 1839 -it was not observed, being so placed that it was lost in the splendour -of the solar rays. In February, 1846, the comet was again seen, this -being the third return since its discovery in 1826, or rather, since -its recognition as a member of the solar system, the eleventh since it -was first seen by Montaigne. At this time everything seemed to suggest -that this comet, unless our earth at some future time should absorb it, -would remain for a long time a steady member of the sun's comet family. -But only a few days after its detection in February, 1846, the comet -was found to have divided into two, which travelled side by side until -both vanished from view with increasing distance. In 1852 the companion -comets reappeared, and again both continued in view till their motion -carried them beyond telescopic range. As the distance between the -coupled comets had increased from about 160,000 miles in 1846 to about -1,250,000 miles in 1852, astronomers anticipated a most interesting -series of observations at the successive returns of the double comet to -the earth's neighbourhood. Unfortunately, in 1859 the comet's course -carried it athwart a part of the sky illuminated by the sun's rays, so -that astronomers could not then expect to see it. But in 1866 it was -looked for hopefully. Its orbit had now been most carefully computed, -and many observers, armed with excellent telescopes, were on the watch -for it, with very accurate knowledge of the course along which it -might be expected to travel, and even of its position from day to day -and from hour to hour. But it was not seen. Nor, again, was it seen -in 1872, when fresh computations had been made, and observations were -extended over a wider range, to make sure, as was hopefully thought, -that this time it should not escape recognition. Could it have come, -asked Herschel in 1866--and in 1872 the same question might still -more pertinently be asked--into contact or exceedingly close approach -to some asteroid as yet undiscovered? or, peradventure, had it -plunged into and got bewildered among the rings of meteorolites, which -astronomers more than suspected? - -Between 1866, when Sir John Herschel thus wrote, and 1872, when again -Biela's comet was sought in vain, a series of strange discoveries had -been made respecting meteors, which led astronomers to believe that, -even though the missing comet might never again be seen as a comet, -we might still learn something respecting its present condition. -It had been noticed that the remarkable comet of 1862 (comet 11 of -that year) crossed the earth's track near the place where she is on -August 10-11, the time of the August meteors, called the Tears of St. -Lawrence in old times, but now known as the Perseids, because they seem -to radiate from the constellation Perseus. Later the idea occurred -to Schiaparelli, an Italian astronomer, that the August meteors may -travel along the path of that comet. He could not prove this, but he -advanced very strong evidence in favour of the opinion, for he found -that bodies travelling along the path of the comet of 1862 would seem -to radiate from Perseus as they traversed the earth's atmosphere. It -was as if a person suspected that a steam-cloud seen on a distant -railway track belonged to a particular train, and, though unable -actually to prove this, was yet able to show that, with the wind and -weather then prevailing, that train, travelling at its customary rate, -would leave a steam-cloud behind it precisely of the apparent length -and position of the observed steam-cloud. This cloud might have the -observed position though otherwise produced, yet the evidence would be -thought strongly to favour the supposition that it came from the train -in question. In like manner the August meteors might be travelling on -any one of a great number of tracks intersecting the earth's orbit in -the place occupied by the earth on August 10-11; yet it was at least a -striking coincidence that a flight of meteors travelling in the orbit -of the chief comet of 1862 would seem to radiate from the constellation -Perseus, precisely as the August meteors do. - -While astronomers were still discussing the ideas of Schiaparelli, -Professor Newton of Yale College, in America, called their attention -to the great display of November meteors which might be expected on -November 13-14, 1866. The fine shower of that year was well observed, -and the part--we may almost say the point--of the constellation Leo -from which the meteors radiated was correctly determined. And now a -strange thing happened. Those who believed in Schiaparelli's account of -the August meteors supposed of necessity that the bodies forming that -system travel in an orbit of enormous extent, for the comet of 1862 -travels on a path extending much further from the sun than the path of -Neptune. There was, therefore, nothing to prevent them from believing -that the Leonides travel in a track carrying them far away from the -sun. The recurrence of great displays of these meteors at intervals of -about 33 years might be readily explained on such an assumption, for if -the Leonides have a period of about 33 years, their path must extend -far beyond the path of Uranus. But hitherto astronomers had not been -ready to admit such an explanation of the periodic recurrence of great -displays of the November meteors. They preferred theories (for several -were available) which accounted for the 33-year period, while assigning -to the Leonides paths of much less extent. Now that the idea of vast -meteoric orbits had been fairly broached, some astronomers thought it -might at least be worth while to calculate the path of the November -meteors on the assumption that their true period is about 33-1/4 years. -This was perfectly easy, because the period of a body travelling round -the sun determines the velocity at any given distance from the sun, -and knowing thus (at least, on this assumption) the true velocity of -the Leonides as they rush into our air, while their apparent path is -known, their true course is as readily determined as the true course -of the wind can be determined by a seaman from the apparent direction -and velocity with which it reaches his ship. When the path of the -November meteors had been determined (on the assumption mentioned), -it was found to be identical with the path of a comet which had only -been discovered a few months before-the comet called Tempel's. That a -comet which is invisible to the naked eye should have been discovered -in the very year when first astronomers made exact observations of the -meteors which travel in its track--for it will presently be seen that -the assumption above mentioned was a just one--cannot but be regarded -as a very singular coincidence. It was a most fortunate coincidence -for astronomers, since there can be but little doubt that but for it -Schiaparelli's theory would very soon have been forgotten. As that -theory was itself suggested by the fortuitous recognition of another -comet (only visible at intervals of more than a century) at a time when -attention had been specially directed to the August meteors, it may -fairly be said that the theory which now associates meteors and comets -in the most unmistakable manner was suggested by one accident and -confirmed by another. Albeit such accidents happen only to the zealous -student of nature's secrets. We shall presently see that the fortunate -detection of Tempel's comet in 1866 was not the last of the series of -coincidences by which the theory of meteors was established. - -Although the evidence favouring Schiaparelli's theory was now strong, -yet it was well that at this stage still more convincing evidence -was forthcoming. The date of the November display has changed since -the Leonides were first recognised, in such sort as to show that the -position of their path has changed. The change is due to the disturbing -attractions of the planets. It occurred to our great astronomer Adams, -discoverer with Leverrier of distant Neptune, to inquire whether the -observed change accorded with the calculated effects of planetary -attraction, if the Leonides are supposed to travel in any of the -smaller paths suggested by astronomers, or could be explained only by -the assumption that the meteors travel on the widely-extending path -corresponding to the 33-1/4 years period. The problem was worthy of -his powers--in other words, it was a problem of exceeding difficulty. -By solving it, Adams made that certain which Schiaparelli and his -followers had merely assumed. He showed beyond all possibility of -doubt or question that of all the paths by which the periodic meteoric -displays could be accounted for, the wide path carrying the November -meteors far beyond the track of Uranus was the only one which accorded -with the observed effects of planetary perturbation. - -It was in the confidence resulting from this masterly achievement that -in 1872 some astronomers (among them Professor Alex. Herschel, one of -Sir J. Herschel's sons) announced the probable occurrence of a display -of meteors when the earth crossed the track of Biela's missing comet. -An occurrence of this sort was alone wanting to complete the evidence -for the meteoric theory. It had been found that the August Perseids -move as if they followed in the track of a known comet; the path of the -November Leonides had been shown to be identical with that of another -comet; if astronomers could predict the appearance of meteors at the -time when the earth should pass through the track of a known comet, -even those who could not appreciate the force of the mathematical -evidence for the new theory would be convinced by the meteoric display. -Possibly such observers would have been satisfied with a meteor shower -which would not have contented astronomers. The display must have -special characteristics to satisfy scientific observers. The path of a -body following Biela's comet being known, and its exact rate of motion, -the direction in which it must enter our earth's atmosphere (if at -all) is determined. Calculation showed this direction to be such that -every meteor would appear to travel directly from the constellation -Andromeda,--from a point near the feet of the Chained Lady. A meteor -might appear in any part of the sky, but its course must be directed -from that point, otherwise it could not possibly be travelling in the -track of Biela's comet. - -The event corresponded exactly with the anticipations of astronomers. -On the evening of November 27, 1872, many thousands of small meteors -were seen. In England between 40,000 and 50,000 were counted. In Italy -the meteors were so numerous that at one time there seemed to be a -cloud of light around the region near the feet of Andromeda whence all -the meteor-tracks seemed to radiate. The meteors were unmistakably -travelling on the track of Biela's comet. They overtook the earth on -a path slanting downwards somewhat from the north--precisely in the -direction in which Biela's comet would itself have descended upon the -earth if at any time the earth had chanced to reach the part of her -path crossed by the comet's when the comet was passing that way. - -Strangely enough, a German astronomer, Klinkerfues, seems to have -regarded the meteoric display of November 27, 1872, as an actual visit -from Biela's comet. He telegraphed to Pogson, Government Astronomer -at Madras, 'Biela touched earth on November 27, look out for it near -Theta Centauri;' which, being interpreted, means, Biela's comet then -grazed the earth, coming from the feet of Andromeda, look for it where -it is travelling onwards in the opposite direction--that is towards the -shoulder of the Centaur. As Biela's comet had in reality passed that -way twelve weeks earlier, the instructions of Klinkerfues were somewhat -wide of the mark. However, Pogson followed them, and near the spot -indicated he saw two faint cloud-like objects, slowly moving athwart -the heavens. These he supposed to be the two comets into which the -missing comet had divided. It so happens, strangely enough, that these -objects, though moving parallel to the track of the missing comets, -were neither those comets themselves, nor the meteor flight through -which the earth had passed a few hours before. They were probably -somewhat richer meteor clouds, fragments (like the cloud through which -our earth had passed) of this most mysterious of all known comets. - -To-night, or perhaps to-morrow or next night (for the position of the -meteor flights is not certainly known) we shall probably see meteors -travelling in advance of the main body. For the earth passes during -the next three days across the orbit of Biela's comet, about as far -in front of the head as she passed behind the head in 1872. Now, -there is no known reason for supposing (on _à priori_ grounds) that -meteors get strewn behind a comet's nucleus more readily than in front -of it. The disturbing forces which would tend to delay some meteoric -attendants would be balanced by forces which would tend to hasten -others. As a matter of fact it would seem that the meteor flights -which follow a comet's nucleus are commonly denser than those which -precede the nucleus. Yet in 1865 many thousands of Leonides were seen -which were in advance of the main body forming the comet of 1866. In -1859, 1860, and 1861, many Perseids were seen, which were in advance -of the comet of 1862. So that we might fairly expect to see a great -number of Andromeds to-night (or on the following nights) even if we -had none but the probabilities thus suggested to guide us. But since -many were seen on November 27 last, when the head of the comet, now -some four months' journey from us, was a whole year's journey further -away, it seems probable that on the present occasion a display well -worth observing will be seen should fine weather prevail. It will be -specially interesting to astronomers, as showing how meteors are strewn -in front of a comet. How meteors are strewn behind a comet we already -know tolerably well from observations made on the Perseids since 1862 -and on the Leonides since 1865. - - - - -_COLD WINTERS._ - - -During the cold weather of last December (1878) we heard much about -old-fashioned winters. It was generally assumed that some thirty or -forty years ago the winters were colder than they now are. Some began -to speculate on the probability that we may be about to have a cycle -of cold winters, continuing perhaps for thirty or forty years, as the -cycle of mild winters is commonly supposed to have done. If any doubts -were expressed as to the greater severity of winter weather thirty -or forty years ago, evidence was forthcoming to show that at that -time our smaller rivers were commonly frozen over during the winter, -and the larger rivers always encumbered with masses of ice, and not -unfrequently frozen from source to estuary. Skating was spoken of as a -half-forgotten pastime in these days, as compared with what it was when -the seniors of our time were lads. Nor were dismal stories wanting of -villages snowed up for months, of men and women who had been lost amid -snowdrifts, and of other troubles such as we now associate rather with -Siberian than with British winters. - -Turning over recently the volume of the 'Penny Magazine' for the year -1837, I came across a passage which shows that these ideas about -winter weather forty years ago were entertained forty years ago about -winter weather eighty or ninety years ago. It occurs in an article on -the 'Peculiarities of the Climate of Canada and the United States.' -Discussing the theory whether the clearing away of forests has any -influence in mitigating the severity of winter weather, the writer -of the article says, 'Many persons assert, and I believe with some -degree of accuracy, that the seasons in Europe, and in our own island -particularly, have undergone a remarkable change within the memory -of many persons now living; and if such really be the case, how few -attempts have been made to account for this change, since no great -natural phenomenon, like that of clearing away millions of acres of -forest timber, and thereby exposing the cold and moist soil to the -action of the sun's rays, has recently taken place here; so that if the -climate of Great Britain has actually undergone a change, the cause, -whatever that may be, must be of a different nature from that generally -supposed to affect the climate of North America.' It must be explained -that, though in this passage the writer does not speak of a diminution -in the severity of the winters, it is a change of that sort that he is -really referring to. He had said, a few lines before, that 'some of -the older inhabitants of North America will declare to you that the -winters are much less severe "now" than they were forty or fifty years -ago,' and in the passage quoted he is discussing the possibility of a -similar change in Europe, where, however, as he points out, the cause -assigned to the supposed change in America has certainly no existence. -Since 1830, by the way, the theory has been advanced that the supposed -mildness of recent winters may have been caused by the large increase -in the consumption of coal, owing to the use of steam machinery, gas -for lighting purposes, and so forth. - -I believe it will be found on careful inquiry that the change for -which forty years ago men sought a cause in vain, and for which at -present they assign a perfectly inadequate cause, has had no real -existence. The study of meteorological records gives no valid support -to the theory of change. Nor is it difficult to understand how the idea -that there has been a change has arisen from the changed conditions -under which men in middle life, as compared with children, observe -or feel the effects of milder weather. A child gives no heed to mild -winters. They pass, like ordinary spring or autumn days, unnoted and -unremembered. But a bitter winter, or even a spell of bitter weather -such as is felt almost every year, is remembered. Even though it lasts -but for a short time, it produces as much effect on the childish -imagination as a long and bitter winter produces on the minds of grown -folk. Looking back at the days of childhood, the middle-aged man or -woman recalls what seems like a series of bitter winters, because -recalling many occasions when, during what seemed a long time, the snow -lay deep, the waters were frozen, and the outdoor air was shrewd and -biting. - -Before considering some of the remarkable winters which during the last -century have been experienced in Great Britain and in Europe generally, -I would discuss briefly the evidence on which I base the belief that -the winter weather of Europe, and of Great Britain especially, has -undergone no noteworthy change during the last century. - -If there is any validity in the theory at present in vogue that our -winters are milder now than they were forty or fifty years ago, and -the theory in vogue as we have seen forty years ago that the winters -then were milder than they had been forty or fifty years earlier, it is -manifest that there ought to be a very remarkable contrast between our -present winter weather and that which was commonly experienced eighty -or ninety years since. Now, it so chances that we possess a record of -the weather from 1768 to 1792, by a very competent observer--Gilbert -White of Selborne--which serves to show what weather prevailed -generally during that interval; while the same writer has described -at length, in his own happy and effective manner, some of the winters -which were specially remarkable for severity. Let us see whether the -winters during the last third of the eighteenth century were so much -more bitter or long-lasting than those now experienced as common ideas -on the subject would suggest. - -In 1768, the year began with a fortnight's frost and snow. The cold was -very severe, as will presently be more particularly noted. Thereafter -wet and rainy weather prevailed to the end of February. The winter of -1768-69 was marked throughout by alternations of rain and frost; thus -from the middle of November to the end of 1768 there were 'alternate -rains and frosts;' in January and February, 1769, the weather was -'frosty and rainy, with gleams of fine weather in the intervals; then -to the middle of March, wind and rain.' The last half of November, -1769, was dry and frosty, December windy, with rain and intervals of -frost, and the first fortnight very foggy; the first fortnight of -January, 1770, frosty, but on the 14th and 15th all the snow melted -and to the end of February mild hazy weather prevailed; March was -frosty and bright. From the middle of October, 1770, to the end of the -year, there were almost incessant rains; then severe frosts till the -last week of January, 1771, after which rain and snow prevailed for a -fortnight, followed by spring weather till the end of February. March -and April were frosty. The spring of 1771 was so exceptionally severe -in the Isle of Skye that it was called the Black Spring; in the south -also it was severe. November, 1771, frost with intervals of fog and -rain; December, mild and bright weather with hoar frosts; January and -the first week of February, 1772, frost and snow; thence to the end of -the first fortnight in March, frost, sleet, rain, and snow. - -The winter of 1772-73 would fairly compare with the mildest in recent -years, except for one fortnight of hard frost in February, 1773. For -from the end of September to December 22 there were rain and mild -weather--the first ice on December 23--but thence to the end of the -month foggy weather. The first week in January, frost, but the rest of -the month dark rainy weather; and after the fortnight of hard frost in -February, misty showery weather to the end of the first week in March, -and bright spring days till April. - -There were four weeks of frost after the end of the first fortnight in -November, 1773, then rain to the end of the year, and rain and frost -alternately to the middle of March, 1774. - -In 1774-1775 there seems to have been no winter at all worth -mentioning. From August 24 to the end of the third week in November -there was rain, with frequent intervals of sunny weather. Then to the -end of December, dark dripping fogs. January, February, and the first -half of March, 1775, rain almost every day; and to the end of the first -week in April, cold winds, with showers of rain and snow. - -The end of the year 1775 was rainy, with intervals of hoar frost and -sunshine. Dark frosty weather prevailed during the first three weeks of -January, 1776, with much snow. Afterwards foggy weather and hoar frost. -The cold of January, 1776, was remarkable, and will presently be more -fully described. - -November and December, 1776, were dry and frosty, with some days of -hard rain. Then to January 10, 1777, hard frost; to the 20th foggy -with frequent showers; and to February 18, hard dry frost with snow, -followed by heavy rains, with intervals of warm dry spring weather to -the end of May. - -The winter of 1777-78 was another which resembled closely enough those -winters which many suppose to be peculiar to recent years. The autumn -weather to October 12 had been remarkably fine and warm. From then to -the end of the year, grey mild weather prevailed, with but little rain -and still less frost. During the first thirteen days of January there -was frost with a little snow; then rain to January 24, followed by six -days of hard frost. After this, harsh foggy weather with rain prevailed -till February 23; then five days of frost; a fortnight of dark harsh -weather; and spring weather to the end of the first fortnight in April. -The second fortnight of April, however, was cold, with snow and frost. - -Similarly varied in character was the winter of 1778-79. From the end -of September, 1778, to the end of the year the weather was wet, with -considerable intervals of sunshine. January, 1779, was characterised by -alternations of frost and showers. After this, to April 21, warm dry -weather prevailed. - -The winter of 1779-80 was rather more severe. During October and -November the weather was fine with intervals of rain. December rainy, -with frost and snow occasionally. January 1780, frosty. During February -dark harsh weather prevailed, with frequent intervals of frost. March -was characterised by warm, showery, spring weather. - -November and December, 1781, were warm and rainy; and the same mild -open weather prevailed till February 4. Then followed eighteen days of -hard frost, after which to the end of March the weather was cold and -windy, with frost, snow, and rain. Thus the first two-thirds of the -winter of 1781-82 were exceptionally mild, while the last third was -cold and bleak. - -In November, 1782, we find for the first time in these records an -instance of early and long-continued cold. 'November began with a hard -frost, and continued throughout, with alternate frost and thaw. The -first part of December frosty.' The latter half of December, however, -and the first sixteen days of January were mild, with much rain and -wind. Then came a week of hard frost, followed by stormy dripping -weather to the end of February. Thence to May 9, cold harsh winds -prevailed. On May 5 there was thick ice. - -The next two winters were, on the whole, the severest of the entire -series recorded by Gilbert White, though at no time in the winter of -1783-84 was the cold greater than has often been experienced in this -country. White's record runs thus: From September 23 to November 12, -dry mild weather. To December 18, grey soft weather with a few showers. -Thence to February 19, 1784, hard frost, with two thaws, one on January -14, the other on February 5. To February 28, mild wet fogs. To March 3, -frost with ice. To March 10, sleet and snow. To April 2, snow with hard -frost. - -The winter of 1784-85 was remarkable for the exceedingly severe -cold of December, 1784, which will presently be referred to more -particularly. From November 6 to the end of the year 1784, fog, rain, -and hard frost alternated, the frost continuing longest and being -severest in December. On January 2 a thaw began, and rainy weather with -wind continued to January 28. Thence to March 15 hard frost; to March -21 mild weather with sprinkling showers; to April 7 hard frost. - -After rainy weather till December 23, 1786, came frost and snow till -January 7, 1787. Then a week of mild and very rainy weather, followed -by a week of heavy snow. From January 21 to February 11, mild weather -with frequent rains; to February 21 dry weather with high winds; and to -March 10, hard frost. Then alternate rains and frosts to April 13. - -Early in November, 1786, there was frost, but thence to December 16 -rain with only 'a few detached days of frost.' After a fortnight of -frost and snow, came 24 days of dark, moist, mild weather. Then four -days (from January 24 to January 28, 1787) of frost and snow; after -which mild showery weather to February 16, dry cool weather to February -28, stormy and rainy weather to March 10. The next fortnight bright and -frosty; then mild rainy weather to the end of April. - -November, 1787, was mild till the 23rd, the last week frosty. The -first three weeks of December still and mild, with rain, the last week -frosty. The first thirteen days of January mild and wet; then five days -of frost, followed by dry, windy weather. February frosty, but with -frequent showers. The first half of March hard frost, the rest dark -harsh weather with much rain. - -The winter of 1788-89 was very severe, hard frost continuing from -November 22, 1788, to January 13, 1789. The rest of January was mild -with showers. February rainy, with snow showers and heavy gales of -wind. The first thirteen days of March hard frost, with snow, and then -till April 18, heavy rain, with frost, snow, and sleet. This winter was -very severe also on the Continent. - -The winter of 1789-90 was as mild as that of 1788-89 had been severe. -The record runs thus:--'November to 17th, heavy rains with violent -gales of wind. To December 18, mild dry weather with a few showers. -To the end of the year rain and wind. To January 16, 1790, mild foggy -weather, with occasional rains. To January 21' (five days only) 'frost. -To January 28, dark, with driving rains. To February 14, mild dry -weather. To February 22' (eight days) 'hard frost.' To April 5 bright -cold weather with a few showers. - -In November, 1790, mild autumnal weather prevailed till the 26th, after -which there were five days of hard frost. Thence to the end of the -year, rain and snow, with a few days of frost. The whole of January, -1791, was mild with heavy rains; February windy, with much rain and -snow. Then to the end of April dry, but 'rather cold and frosty.' - -November, 1791, was very wet and stormy, December frosty. There was -some hard frost in January, 1792, but the weather mostly wet and mild. -In February also there was some hard frost and a little snow. March was -wet and cold. - -The record ends with the year 1792, the last three months of which -are thus described: 'October showery and mild. November dry and fine. -December mild.' - -Certainly the account of the 23 years between 1768 and 1792 does not -suggest that there is any material difference between the winter -weather now common and the average winter weather a century ago. Still -it may be necessary to show, that when men spoke of mild weather in old -times, they meant what we should understand by the same expression. -A reference to rain or showery weather shows sufficiently that a -temperature above the freezing point existed while such weather -prevailed. But it might be that what White speaks of as mild weather, -is such as we should consider severe. In order to show that this is -not the case, it will suffice to examine his statement respecting the -actual temperature in particular winters, considering them always with -due reference to what he says as to their exceptional character. - -Take for instance his account of the frost in January, 1768. He says -that, for the short time it lasted, this frost 'was the most severe -that we had then known for many years, and was remarkably injurious to -evergreens.' 'The coincidents attending this short but intense frost,' -he proceeds, after describing his vegetable losses, 'were, that the -horses fell sick with an epidemic distemper, which injured the winds -of many and killed some; that colds and coughs were general among the -human species; that it froze under people's beds for several nights; -that meat was so hard frozen that it could not be spitted, and could -not be secured but in cellars, &c.' On the 3rd of January a thermometer -within doors, in a close parlour, where there was no fire, fell in the -night to 20; on the 4th to 18; and on the 7th to 17-1/2 degrees, 'a -degree of cold which the owner never since saw in the same situation.' -The evidence from the thermometer is unsatisfactory, because we do not -know how the parlour was situated. But there is reason for supposing -that in the bitterest winters known during the last thirty or forty -years, a greater degree of cold than that of January, 1768, has been -experienced in England. - -The frost of January, 1776, was also regarded as remarkable, and an -account of it will therefore enable us to judge what was the ordinary -winter weather of the last century. - -In the first place, White notices that 'the first week of January, -1776, was very wet, and drowned with vast rains from every quarter; -from whence may be inferred, as there is great reason to believe is -the case, that intense frosts seldom take place till the earth is -perfectly glutted and chilled with water; and hence dry autumns are -seldom followed by rigorous winters.' On the 14th, after a week of -frost, sleet, and snow, which after the 12th 'overwhelmed all the -works of men, drifting over the tops of gates, and filling the hollow -lanes,' White had occasion to be much abroad. He thought he had never -before or since encountered such rugged Siberian weather. 'Many of the -narrow roads were now filled above the tops of the hedges, through -which the snow was driven into most romantic and grotesque shapes, -so striking to the imagination as not to be seen without wonder -and pleasure. The poultry dared not to stir out of their roosting -places: for cocks and hens are so dazzled and confounded by the glare -of snow, that they would soon perish without assistance. The hares -also lay sullenly in their seats, and would not move till compelled -by hunger: being conscious, poor animals, that the drifts and heaps -treacherously betray their footsteps and prove fatal to many of them.' -From the 14th the snow continued to increase, and began to stop the -road-wagons and coaches, which could no longer keep their regular -stages; and especially on the Western roads. 'The company at Bath that -wanted to attend the Queen's birthday were strangely incommoded; many -carriages of persons who got on their way to town from Bath, as far as -Marlborough, after strange embarrassments, here met with a _ne plus -ultra_. The ladies fretted, and offered large rewards to labourers, if -they would shovel them a road to London; but the relentless heaps of -snow were too bulky to be removed; and so the 18th passed over, leaving -the company in very uncomfortable circumstances, at the Castle and -other inns.' - -Yet all this time and till the 21st the cold was not so intense as it -was in December 1878. On the 21st the thermometer showed 20 degrees, -and had it not been for the deep snows, the winter would not have been -very severely felt. On the 22nd, the author had occasion to go to -London 'through a sort of Laplandian scene, very wild and grotesque -indeed.' But London exhibited an even stranger appearance than the -country. 'Being bedded deep in snow, the pavement of the streets could -not be touched by the wheels or the horses' feet, so that the carriages -ran almost without the least noise.' 'Such an exemption from din and -clatter,' says White, 'was strange but not pleasant; it seemed to -convey an uncomfortable idea of desolation: - - _Ipsa silentia terrent._ - -'The worst had not yet, however, been reached. On the 27th much snow -fell all day, and in the evening the frost became very intense. At -South Lambeth, for the four following nights, the thermometer fell to -eleven, seven, six, six; and at Selborne to seven, six, ten; and on the -31st, just before sunrise, with rime on the trees and on the tube of -the glass, the quicksilver sank exactly to zero--_a most unusual degree -of cold this for the South of England_.' During these four nights, the -cold was so penetrating that ice formed under beds; and in the day the -wind was so keen, that persons of robust constitutions could hardly -endure to face it. 'The Thames was at once frozen over, both above and -below bridge, that crowds ran about on the ice. The streets were now -strangely encumbered with snow, which crumbled and trod dusty; and -turning gray, resembled bay salt; what had fallen on the roofs was so -perfectly dry that from first to last it lay twenty-six days on the -houses in the city; _a longer time than had been remembered by the -oldest housekeepers living_.' - -According to all appearances rigorous weather might now have been -expected for weeks to come, since every night increased in severity. -'But behold,' says White, 'without any apparent cause, on February 1, -a thaw took place, and some rain followed before night, making good -the observation that frosts often go off as it were at once without -any gradual declension of cold. On February 2 the thaw persisted, and -on the 3rd swarms of little insects were frisking and sporting in a -court-yard at South Lambeth, as if they had felt no frost. Why the -juices in the small bodies and smaller limbs of such minute beings are -not frozen, is a matter of curious inquiry.' - -Although it is manifest that the weather of January, 1776, was severe, -yet the remarks italicised show that such weather was regarded a -century ago as altogether exceptional. Again, the cold lasted only -about three weeks. And it may be doubted whether in actual intensity -it even equalled that which was experienced in London and the south of -England generally during the first week of 1855. Certainly the evidence -afforded by such remarks as I have italicised in the above-quoted -passage tends more to prove that winter weather in England a hundred -years hence was on the average much like winter at present, than the -unusual severity of the weather during about twenty-four days in -January, 1776, tends to suggest that a marked change has taken place. - -Similar evidence is afforded by White's remarks respecting the severe -cold of December, 1784. - -As in January, 1776, so in December, 1784--a week of very wet weather -heralded the approach of severe cold. 'The first week of December,' -says White, 'was very wet, with the barometer very low. On the 7th, -with the barometer at 28.5, came on a vast snow, which continued all -that day and the next, and most part of the following night: so that -by the morning of the 9th the works of men were quite overwhelmed' -(there is something quite Homeric in White's use of this favourite -expression), 'the lanes filled so as to be impassable, and the ground -covered twelve or fifteen inches without any drifting. In the evening -of the 9th the air began to be so very sharp that we thought it would -be curious to attend to the motions of a thermometer; we therefore hung -out two, one made by Martin and one by Dolland' (probably Dollond), -'which soon began to show us what we were to expect; for by ten o'clock -they fell to twenty-one, and at eleven to four, when we went to bed. -On the 10th in the morning the quicksilver of Dolland's glass was down -to half a degree below zero and that of Martin's, which was absurdly -graduated only to four degrees above zero, sunk quite into the brass -guard of the ball, so that, when the weather became most interesting, -this was useless. On the 10th, at eleven at night, though the air was -perfectly still, Dolland's glass went down to one degree below zero! -This strange severity of the weather made me very desirous to know what -degree of cold there might be in such an exalted and near situation as -Newton. We had, therefore, on the morning of the 10th, written to Mr. -----, and entreated him to hang out his thermometer, made by Adams, and -to pay some attention to it, morning and evening, expecting wonderful -phenomena in so elevated a region, at two hundred feet or more above -my house. But, behold! on the 10th, at eleven at night, it was down -only to seventeen, and the next morning at twenty-two, when mine was -at ten! We were so disturbed at this unexpected reverse of comparative -cold that we sent one of my glasses up, thinking that of Mr. ---- -must somehow be wrongly constructed. But when the instruments came to -be confronted they went exactly together, so that for one night at -least the cold at Newton was eighteen degrees less than at Selborne, -and through the whole frost ten or twelve degrees; and indeed, when -we came to observe consequences, we could readily credit this, for -all my laurustines, bays, ilexes, arbutuses, cypresses, and even my -Portugal laurels--and, which occasions more regret, my fine sloping -laurel hedge--were scorched up, while at Newton the same trees have not -lost a leaf....' One circumstance noted by White, though not bearing -specially on the degree of cold which prevailed on this occasion, is -very interesting. 'I must not omit to tell you,' says White, 'that -during those two Siberian days my parlour cat was so electric that had -a person stroked her and been properly insulated, the shock might have -been given to a whole circle of people.' - -White's account of this severe frost bears very significantly on the -theory that our winter weather has undergone a great change. It is -obvious, in the first place, that the situation of his thermometers -was such that they were likely to show a low temperature as compared -with the indications in other places. It is also clear that the -thermometer he used was trustworthy. If it were one of Dollond's it -would presumably be a good one, and I do not think that in White's time -the trick of marking inferior instruments with the name Dolland had -come into vogue. But in any case Adams's scientific instruments were -excellent; and, as the account shows, the thermometer used by White -indicated the same temperature as Adams's. Now, the lowest temperature -recorded was only one degree below zero; and that this was altogether -exceptional is shown not only by what White says in the passage I have -quoted, but also by his remarking a little later that this frost 'may -be allowed, from its effects, to have exceeded any since 1739-40.' -Even this is not all. It would certainly prove beyond dispute that our -winters were not milder than those of a century ago; for a greater -degree of cold than that recorded by White in December, 1784, has been -more than once experienced in the same part of England during the last -forty years. But it seems from a statement in Miller's 'Gardener's -Dictionary,' that the Portugal laurels were untouched in the great -frost of 1739-40, which would show that the frost of 1784 was more -severe and destructive than that of 1739-40. If this were really so, -the frost of 1784 was the severest (though owing to its short duration -it did not produce the most remarkable effects in the country at large) -of any during the periods noted between the years 1709 and 1788. On the -Continent, the frost of December, 1788, was more severe in some places, -though rather less severe at Paris, than that of 1709; but I do not -know of any records which would enable us to make a direct comparison -between the cold in 1709, 1784, and 1788, at any given place in Great -Britain. - -It will be well now to take a wider survey and consider some of the -most severe winters experienced in Europe generally. - -The winter of 1544 was remarkably severe all over Europe. In Flanders, -according to Mézerai, wine froze in casks, and was sold in blocks by -the pound weight. The winter of 1608 was also very severe. In the -winter of 1709 the thermometer at the Paris Observatory recorded a -cold of nearly ten degrees below zero. - -Passing over the winter of 1776, of whose effects in England we have -learned enough to enable us to judge how severely it must have been -felt in those continental countries where the winter is always more -severe than with us, we come to the severe winter of 1788-89. - -We have seen that in England hard frost began on November 22 and -continued till January 13. In France (or rather at Paris) the frost -began three days later, but the thaw began on the same day, January -13. There was no intermission except on Christmas Day, when it did not -freeze. In the great canal at Versailles the ice was two feet thick. -'The water also froze,' says Flammarion, 'in several very deep wells, -and wine became congealed in cellars. The Seine began to freeze as -early as November 26, and for several days its course was impeded, the -breaking up of the ice not taking place until January 20 (1789). The -lowest temperature observed at Paris was seven degrees below zero, on -December 31. The frost was equally severe in other parts of France -and throughout Europe. The Rhone was quite frozen over at Lyons, the -Garonne at Toulouse, and at Marseilles the sides of the docks were -covered with ice. Upon the shores of the Atlantic the sea was frozen to -a distance of several leagues. The ice upon the Rhine was so thick that -loaded wagons were able to cross it. The Elbe was covered with ice, and -also bore up heavy carts. The harbour at Ostend was frozen so hard that -people could cross it on horseback; the sea was congealed to a distance -of four leagues from the exterior fortifications, and no vessel could -approach the harbour.' - -It was during the frost of 1788-89 that a fair was held on the Thames. -The river was frozen as low as Gravesend; but it was only in London -that booths were set up. The Thames fair lasted during the Christmas -holidays and the first twelve days of January. - -At Strasburg, on December 31, a temperature of fifteen degrees below -zero was shown. At Berlin on the 20th, and St. Petersburg on the 12th, -temperatures of twenty and twenty-three degrees below zero respectively -were noted. But in Poland and parts of Germany an even greater degree -of cold was recorded. For instance, at Warsaw, 26-1/2 degrees below -zero; and at Bremen thirty-two degrees. At Basle, on December 18, the -thermometer indicated nearly thirty-six degrees below zero. In the -district around Toulouse bread was frozen so hard that it could not be -cut till it had been laid before the fire. Many travellers perished in -the snow. At Lemburg, in Galicia, thirty-seven persons were found dead -in three days towards the end of December. The ice froze so thick in -ponds that in most of them all the fish were killed. - -The winter of 1794-95 was remarkable in this country as giving the -lowest average temperature for a month ever recorded in England. The -mean temperature for January, 1795, was only 26.5 degrees; or more -than three degrees lower than that of last January. January 25, 1795, -is commonly supposed to have been the coldest day ever known. The -thermometer in London stood at eight degrees below zero during part of -that bitter day; and in Paris, where also there were six consecutive -weeks of frost, at 10-3/7 degrees below zero. The Thames was frozen -over at Whitehall in the beginning of January. The Marne, the Scheldt, -the Rhine, and the Seine were so frozen over that army corps and heavy -carriages crossed over them. Perhaps the strangest of all the recorded -results of cold weather occurred during the same month. The French -General Pichegru, who was then operating in the North of Holland, sent -detachments of cavalry and infantry about January 20, with orders to -the former to cross the Texel and to capture the enemy's vessels, which -were 'imprisoned by the ice.' 'The French horsemen crossed the plains -of ice at full gallop,' we are told, 'approached the vessels, called on -them to surrender, captured them without a struggle, and took the crews -prisoners:' probably the only occasion in history when effective use -could have been made of a corps of horse-marines. - -The winter of 1798-99 was very cold, but not so exceptionally cold -in England as on the Continent. The Seine was completely frozen over -from the 29th of December to the 19th of January, from the Pont de la -Tournelle to the Pont Royal. Farther east the cold was much greater. -The Meuse was frozen over so thickly that carriages could cross it, and -at the Hague and at Rotterdam fairs were held on the river. A regiment -of dragoons starting from Mayence, crossed the Rhine upon the ice. - -The winter of 1812-13 was exceeding cold in November, December and -January. It was this unusually early and bitter winter which occasioned -the destruction of Napoleon's army in Russia, and the eventual -overthrow of his power. (For no one who considers his achievements -during the campaigns of 1813 and 1814 can doubt that, had the army -with which he invaded Russia been at his command, he would have foiled -all the efforts of combined Europe against him.) The cold became -very intense in Russia after the 7th of November. On the 17th the -thermometer fell to 15 degrees below zero, according to Larrey, who -carried a thermometer suspended from his button hole. The retreat from -Moscow began on the 18th, Napoleon leaving the still burning city on -the 19th, and the evacuation being complete on the 23rd. Everything -seemed to conspire against Napoleon and his army. During the march -to Smolensk snow fell almost incessantly. Even the only intermission -of the cold during the retreat caused additional disaster. On the -18th of November, Russian troops had crossed the frozen Dwina with -their artillery. A thaw begun on the 24th, but continued only for a -short time; 'so that from the 26th to the 29th the Beresina contained -numerous blocks of ice, but yet was not so frozen over as to afford a -passage to the French troops.' It was to this circumstance that the -terribly disastrous nature of the passage of the Beresina must mainly -be attributed. - -The winter of 1813-14 was colder in England than on the Continent--I -mean, the winter here was colder for England than the winter in any -region of continental Europe was for that region. The frost lasted from -December 26 to March 21, and the mean temperature of January was only -26.8 degrees. The Thames was frozen over very thickly, and a fair was -held on the frozen river. - -The winter of 1819-20 was bitter throughout Europe. Mr. Thomas Plant, -in an interesting letter to the _Times_ of February 4, says that this -winter was one long spell of intense frost from November to March, -and was almost as severe as that of 1813-14. In Paris there were -forty-seven days of frost, nineteen of which were consecutive, from -December 30, 1818, to January 17. 'In France,' says Flammarion, 'the -intensity of the cold was heralded by the passage along the coast of -the Pas de Calais of a great number of birds coming from the farthest -regions of the north by wild swans and ducks of variegated plumage. -Several travellers perished of cold; amongst others a farmer near -Arras, a gamekeeper near Nogent (Haute Marne) a man and woman in -the Côte d'Or, two travellers at Breuil, on the Meuse, a woman and -a child on the road from Etain to Verdun, six persons near Château -Salins (Meurthe), and two little Savoyards on the road from Clermont -to Chalons-sur-Saône. In the experiments made at the Metz School of -Artillery, on the 10th of January, to ascertain how iron resisted low -temperatures, several soldiers had their hands or their ears frozen.' -During this winter the Thames, the Seine, the Rhône, the Rhine, the -Danube, the Garonne, the lagoons of Venice, and the Sound, were so far -frozen that it was possible to walk across them on the ice. - -The winter of 1829-30 was remarkable as the longest winter of the first -half of the present century. The cold was not exceptionally intense, -but the long continuance of bitter weather occasioned more mischief in -the long run than has attended short spells of severer cold. The river -Seine was frozen at Paris first for twenty-nine days, from December -28th to January 26th, and then for five days from February 5th to -February 10th. The river had not been so many days frost-bound in any -winter since 1763. Even at Havre the Seine was frozen over; and at -Rouen a fair was held upon the river on January 18th. On January 25, -after a thaw of six days, the ice from Corbeil and Melun blocked up the -bridge at Choisy, forming a wall 16-1/2 feet high. - -The winter of 1837-38 was remarkable for the long frost of January -and February, 1838. It lasted eight weeks. Mr. Plant mentions that -'the lowest point of the thermometer during this long and severe frost -occurred on January 20, when the readings were from 5 degrees below -zero, in this district' (Moseley, near Birmingham), 'to 8 and 10 -degrees below zero in more exposed aspects.' 'On the 13th of January, -the old Royal Exchange, London, was destroyed by fire; and the frost -was so great that, when the fire brigade had ceased playing on one -portion of the burning pile, the water in a short time became icicles -of such large dimensions, that the effect has been described as grand -in the extreme.' - -The winter of 1837-38 is not usually included as one among the -exceptionally cold winters on the Continent, and the winter of 1840-41, -though certainly cold in the British Isles, is not included by Mr. -Plant in his list of the coldest winters since 1795. But this winter -was exceedingly cold on the Continent. At Paris there were fifty-nine -days' frost, twenty-seven of them consecutive--viz. from December 5th, -when the cold began, to January 1st. The intermission which began on -January 1, lasted only till January 3, when there was another week of -frost. There was frost again from January 30 to February 10. One of the -most remarkable stories connected with the cold of this winter is thus -told by Flammarion:--'On the 15th of December, the ashes of Napoleon, -brought back from St. Helena, entered Paris by the Arc de Triomphe. -The thermometer in places exposed to nocturnal radiation, had that day -marked 6.8 degrees above zero. An immense crowd, the National Guard of -Paris and its suburbs, and numerous regiments lined the Champs Elysées, -from the early morning until two in the afternoon. Every one suffered -severely from the cold. Soldiers and workmen, hoping to obtain warmth -by drinking brandy' (the most chilling process they could have thought -of), 'were seized by the cold, and dropped down dead of congestion. -Several persons perished, victims of their curiosity: having climbed up -into the trees to see the procession, their extremities, benumbed by -the cold, failed to support them, and they were killed by the fall.' - -The winter of 1844-45 was remarkable for the long duration of cold -weather. The whole of December was very cold, January not so severe, -but still cold, February singularly cold, and the frost so severe -in March that on Good Friday (March 21st) the boats, which had been -frost-bound for weeks in the canals, were still locked tightly in ice. - -Mr. Plant omits to notice in the letter above-mentioned the long -winter of 1853-54, which was indeed less severe (relatively as well as -absolutely) in England than on the Continent. Still, he is hardly right -in saying, that after 1845 there was no winter of long and intense -character until January and February 1855. On the Continent the winter -of 1853-54 was not only protracted but severe, especially towards the -end of December. Several rivers were frozen over. The cold lasted from -March till November, with scarcely any intermission. - -The winter of 1854-55 was still more severe than its predecessor. The -frosts commenced in the east of France in October and lasted till the -28th of April. The mean temperatures for January and February, in -England, were 31 degrees and 29 degrees respectively. This year will -be remembered as that during which our army suffered so terribly from -cold in the Crimea. But our brave fellows would have resisted Generals -January and February (in whom the Czar Nicholas expressed such strong -reliance), as well as the Russians themselves did, or maybe a trifle -better (if we can judge from the way in which Englishmen have borne -Arctic winters), had it not been for the gross negligence of the Red -Tapists. - -The winter of 1857-58 was rather severer than the average, but not -much. The Danube and Russian ports in the Black Sea were frozen over in -January, 1858. - -The frost of December, 1860, and January, 1861, was remarkable. The -coldest recorded mean temperature for a month in time (not the coldest -month), was that for the thirty days ending January 16, 1861,--namely, -26 degrees. Mr. Plant remarks that 'the intense cold on Christmas-eve, -1860, finds no equal in his records, since January 20, 1838. The -thermometer registered 34 degrees of frost, and in the valley of the -Rea, five to seven degrees below zero. Strangely enough, Flammarion -makes no mention of this bitter winter in his list of exceptionally -cold winters. - -The winter of 1864-65 lasted from December to the end of March, all of -which four months, Mr. Plant notes, were of the true winter type. The -Seine was frozen over at Paris, and people crossed the ice near the -Pont des Arts. - -The winter of 1870-71 will always be remembered as that during -which the siege of Paris was carried on, and the last scenes of the -Franco-Prussian war took place. As Flammarion justly remarks, this -winter will be classed among severe winters, because of the extreme -cold in December and January (notwithstanding the mild weather of -February), and also because of the fatal influence which the cold -exercised upon the public health at the close of the war with Germany. -'The great equatorial current,' he proceeds (meaning, no doubt, the -winds which blow over the prolongation of the Gulf Stream), 'which -generally extends to Norway, stopped this year at Spain and Portugal, -the prevailing wind being from the north. On the 5th of December there -was a temperature of 5 degrees, and on the 8th, at Montpellier, the -thermometer stood at 17.6 degrees. A second period of cold set in on -the 22nd of December, lasting until the 5th of January. In Paris the -Seine was blocked with ice, and seemed likely to become frozen over. -On the 24th there were 21.6 degrees of frost, and at Montpellier, on -the 31st, 28.8 degrees. It is well known that many of the outposts -around Paris, and several of the wounded who had been lying for fifteen -hours upon the field, were found frozen to death. From the 9th to the -15th of January a third period of cold set in, the thermometer marking -17.6 degrees' (14.4 degrees of frost) 'at Paris, and 8.6 degrees at -Montpellier. The most curious fact was that the cold was greater -in the south than in the north of France. At Brussels the lowest -temperatures were 11.1 degree in December and 8.2 degrees in January. -There were forty days' frost at Montpellier, forty-two at Paris, and -forty-seven at Brussels during these two months. Finally, the winter -average (December, January, and February) was 35.2 degrees in Paris, -whereas the general average is 37.9 degrees.' In the north of Europe -this was also a very hard winter, though the cold set in at a different -time than that noted for France. There were forty degrees of frost at -Copenhagen on February 12--that is, the temperature was 5 degrees below -zero. By the documents which M. Renon furnished Flammarion with for -France, 'I discover,' says the latter, 'a minimum of 9.4 degrees below -zero at Périgueux, and of 13 degrees below zero at Moulins! I find by -the documents supplied me by Mr. Glaisher,' he proceeds, 'that he also -considers the winter of 1870-71 as appertaining to the class of winters -memorable for their severity.' Lastly, in the winter which as I write -(February 10, 1879) seems to be nearly over, we have had for December -a mean temperature of only 31 degrees in the midlands--the coldest -December known there, followed by a January so cold that the mean -temperature for the midlands was only 29.8 degrees. Mr. G.J. Symons, -the well-known meteorologist, says of the past winter, that January -was the coldest for at least twenty-one, and he believes for forty-one -years, following a December which was also, with one exception, the -coldest for twenty-one years.' He gives an abstract of the temperatures -(both maximum and minimum) for November, December, and January during -the last twenty-one years, from which it appears:-- - -1. That the average _maximum_ temperature of November was the lowest -during the period with two exceptions, that of December the lowest with -one exception, and that of January the lowest of the whole period. - -2. That the average _minimum_ of November was the lowest during the -period with four exceptions, that of December the lowest with one -exception, and that of January the lowest. - -3. That the mean temperature of the three months was not only five -degrees below the average, but also lower than in any previous year out -of the twenty-one. - -On the whole, the winter of 1878-79 must be regarded as the coldest we -have had during at least the last score of years, and probably during -twice that time. It was not characterised by exceptionally severe short -periods of intense cold, like those which occurred during the winters -of 1854-55, 1855-56, and 1860-61; but it has been surpassed by few -winters during the last two centuries for constant low temperature and -long-continued moderate frost. During the last ninety years there have -been only four winters matching that of 1878-79 in these respects. - - * * * * * - -Since the preceding pages were written the weather record for February -1879 has been completed. Like the three preceding months, February -showed a mean temperature below the average, though the deficit was not -quite so great as in those months. The following table, drawn out by -Mr. Plant, shows the mean temperature at Moseley for four winter months -of 1878-79, and the average temperature for those months at Moseley -during the last twenty years:-- - - 1878-79 - Deg. - November 37.0 - December 31.0 - January 29.8 - February 35.8 - ---- - Mean of the four months in 33.4 - - Average of 20 years - Deg. - November 41.5 - December 39.0 - January 35.5 - February 39.0 - ---- - Average of four months in 20 - years observations 38.8 - - - - -_OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE ROWING._ - - -The records of the last eighteen boat-races between Cambridge and -Oxford indicate clearly enough the existence of a difference of style -in the rowing of the two universities, a circumstance quite as plainly -suggested by the five successive victories of Cambridge in the years -1870-74, as by the nine successive victories of Oxford which preceded -them. For it is, or should be, known that the victories of Cambridge -only began when Morrison, one of the finest Oxford oarsmen, had taught -the Cambridge men the Oxford style, so far as it could be imparted to -rowers accustomed, for the most part, in intercollegiate struggles, -to a different system. With regard to the long succession of Oxford -victories which began in 1861, and which, be it noticed, followed on -Cambridge successes obtained when the light-blue stroke rowed in the -Oxford style, I may remark that, viewing the matter as a question of -probabilities, it may safely be said that the nine successive victories -of Oxford could not reasonably be regarded as accidental. The loss of -three or four successive races would not have sufficed to show that -there was any assignable difference in the conditions under which the -rival universities encountered each other on the Thames. In cases -where the chance of one or other of two events happening is exactly -equal, there will repeatedly be observed recurrences of this sort. -But when the same event recurs so often as nine successive times, -it is justifiable to infer that the chances are _not_ precisely--or -perhaps even nearly--equal. I believe I shall be able to indicate the -existence of a cause quite sufficient to account for the series of -defeats sustained in the years 1861-69 by Cambridge, and for the change -of fortune experienced when for a while the Cambridge oarsmen adopted -the style of rowing which has prevailed for many years at the sister -university. - -I may premise that Cambridge has an important advantage over Oxford -in the fact that she has a far larger number of men to choose from -in selecting a university crew. It may seem to many, at first sight, -that as good a crew might well be selected from three hundred as from -five hundred boating-men; because it is not to be supposed that either -number would supply many more than eight first-rate oarsmen. But it -must be remembered that there are first-rate oarsmen _and_ first-rate -oarsmen. The unpractised eye may detect very little difference -between the best and the worst oarsmen in such crews as Oxford and -Cambridge yearly send to contend for the blue-riband of the river. -But differences exist; and if the best man of the crew were replaced -by one equal in rowing ability to the worst, or _vice versâ_, an -important difference would be observed in the time of rowing over the -racing course, under similar conditions of wind, tide, and so forth. -Accordingly, a large field for the selection of the men is a most -important advantage. Taking, for instance, the five hundred rowing men -of Cambridge and dividing them into two sets--one of three hundred men, -corresponding to the three hundred rowing men of Oxford, and the other -of two hundred men--we see that the first set ought to supply a crew -strong enough to meet Oxford, and the second a crew nearly as strong. -Now, if the best men of the two Cambridge crews thus supposed to be -formed are combined--say five taken from the first and three from the -second, all the inferior men being struck out--a far stronger crew than -either of the others would undoubtedly be formed. - -So that if Cambridge were generally the winner in these contests, the -Oxonians would be able to account for their want of success in a -sufficiently satisfactory manner. The successive defeats sustained by -the Cambridge crews in 1861-69 are therefore so much the less readily -explained as due to mere accident, by which of course I mean simply -such an accidental circumstance as that better oarsmen chanced to be at -Oxford than at Cambridge in these years, not to accident occurring in -the race itself. - -Several reasons were assigned from time to time for the repeated -victories of Oxford. Some of these may conveniently be examined here, -before discussing what I take to be the true explanation. - -Some writers in the papers advanced the general proposition that Oxford -men are as a rule stronger and more enduring than Cambridge men. -They did not tell us why this should be the case--to what peculiar -influences it was due that the more powerful and energetic of our -English youth should go to one university rather than the other. No -evidence of this peculiarity could be found in the university athletic -sports, in which success was, as it has since been, very equally -divided. And what made the theory the less satisfactory was the -circumstance that it afforded no explanation of the early triumphs of -the Cantabs, who won seven of the nine races they rowed against Oxford. -Of these races five were rowed from Westminster to Putney, a course -two miles longer than the present course from Putney to Mortlake. A -race over such a course and in the heavier old-fashioned racing-boats -was a sufficient test of strength and endurance; yet the Cambridge -men managed to win four out of these five events, and that not by a -few seconds, but in three instances by upwards of a minute. If there -were any reason for conceiving that Oxonians were as a rule stronger -than Cantabs in the years 1861-69, there is at least no reason for -conceiving that any change can have taken place in the time between the -earlier races and that during which Oxford won so persistently. And as -the earlier races show no traces of any difference such as was insisted -upon by many journalists in the latter part of the period of the -Oxford successes, we may reasonably conclude that the difference had no -real existence. - -Another theory resembling the preceding was also often urged. It was -said repeatedly in the papers that Cambridge traditions encouraged -a light flashy stroke, pretty to look at but not effective; that -again, Cambridge rowed the first part of the course well but -exhausted themselves before the conclusion of the race, through their -over-anxiety to get the advantage of their opponents in the beginning -of the contest. Critics undertook to say that the Oxford men 'rowed -within themselves' at first, reserving their strength for the last -mile or two of the course. Now, it will presently appear that there -does exist in a certain peculiarity of what may justly be called the -Cambridge style, a true cause for want of success, and even for such a -repeated series of defeats as the light-blue flag sustained in 1868-69. -But the Cambridge style rowed during these years was very far from -being a flashy style. On the contrary, the old Cambridge style, which -is still too often seen in College contests, and has within the last -four years been seen on the Thames, involves the rowing of a longer -stroke than _seems_ to be rowed in the true Oxford style. Oxford -rowing is pre-eminently lively. Anyone who had been at the pains to -time the strokes of the Oxford and Cambridge crews during the years -1861-69, would have been able at once to dispose of the notion that -Cambridge men row the more rapid stroke. In these nine races, as in -the practice preceding them, the Oxford crew often took forty-four -strokes per minute. Especially did they rise to this swift stroke in -some of those grand spurts which so often carried the dark-blue flag -in front. I do not remember that the Cambridge crews ever went beyond -forty-two strokes per minute. Then again as to starting early and -being quickly spent, a good deal of nonsense was written. In some of -the later contests of the series 1861-69, indeed, the Cambridge crews, -urged by the thought of numerous past defeats, made unduly exhausting -efforts in the earlier part of the race. But nothing was done in this -way which would have caused the loss of the race if the Cambridge crew -had really had it in them to win. If the better of two crews puts on -rather too much steam at first, they draw so quickly ahead that they -soon begin to feel that they have the race in hand, and so proceed to -take matters more steadily. In such powerful and well-trained crews -as both universities usually send to the contest, very little harm is -done by varying the order of the work a little--rowing hard at first -and steadily afterwards, or _vice versâ_. It is easy for lookers-on, -most of whom have never taken part in a boat-race, to theorise on these -matters. But those who know what boat racing is (as distinguished, be -it noticed, from most contests of speed) know that the better boat is -almost sure to win in whatever way the stroke may set them their work. -A good crew, unlike a good horse, requires no jockeying. - -The difference of the rivers Cam and Isis has been urged as a -sufficient reason for inferiority on the part of the Cambridge crews. -That the difference used to tell unfavourably upon the chances of the -light blue flag before the river had been widened and the railway -bridge modified, and that even now the Cambridge crews would not be all -the better for a better river to practice on, cannot be denied. But I -question whether even before the widening of the river, this particular -cause sufficed to counterbalance the advantage of the Cantabs in point -of numbers. Nor do I think that those who urged the inferiority of the -Cambridge river have recognised the principal disadvantage which it -entailed upon the light-blue oarsmen. - -The first circumstance to be noticed, in this connection, is the -difference in the conditions under which racing-boats were and are -steered along the two rivers. A Cambridge coxswain has in some respects -an easier, in others a more difficult task than the Oxonian. In the -first place, he has very little choice as to the course along which -he shall take his boat. All he has to do is to steer as closely round -each corner as possible; and the narrowness of the river renders -it difficult for him to fall into any error in running a straight -line from corner to corner. The Oxonian coxswain, on the other hand, -requires to be more carefully on the watch lest he should suffer his -boat to diverge from the just course, which is far less obvious on -the wider Isis than on the Cam. But although the Cambridge coxswain -has the shores of the river close to him on either hand, and can thus -never be at a loss as to his just course, yet to maintain this obvious -course he has to be continually moving the rudder-lines. In fact, -there are some 'eights' which steer so ill that it is no easy matter -to keep them from the shores when the crew are sending them along at -racing speed. In rounding the three great corners which have to be -passed in the ordinary racing-course at Cambridge--viz., First Post -Corner, Grassy Corner, and Ditton Corner--the rudder has to be made -use of in a much more decided manner than in the straighter course -along which the Oxford racing eights have to travel. I have seen the -water bubbling over the rudder of a racing eight, as she rounded Grassy -Corner, in a manner which showed clearly enough how her 'way' must have -been checked; yet, probably, if the rudder-lines had been relaxed for -a moment, the ill-steering craft would have gone irretrievably out of -her course, and been presently stranded on the farther bank. And even -eights which steer well had to be very carefully handled along the -narrow and winding ditch which we Cantabs used to call 'the river.' - -A more serious disadvantage, so far as the prospects of University -Boats were concerned, lay in the circumstance that there was no part -of the Cam (within easy reach, at least, of Cambridge) along which the -crew could row without a break, for four or five miles, as they had to -do in the actual encounter with the Oxford boat. The whole range of the -river between the locks next below Cambridge and Bait's Bite Locks, is -somewhat under four miles and a half. But about a mile and a quarter -from Bait's Bite sluice, the railway-bridge crosses the river, and -until a few years ago, the supports of this bridge divided the river -into three parts. There was in my time a vague tradition that the -University Eight had once or twice been steered through the widest of -these passages without stopping; but I doubt much whether there could -have been any truth in the story. Certainly no coxswain in my time at -Cambridge ever achieved the feat, nor could it be safely attempted even -by the most skilful steersman. The consequence was that there was a -break in the long course which took away all its value as a preparation -for the actual race. It may seem to the uninitiated a trifling matter -that a crew should get a few seconds of rest in so long a pull. But -those who know what racing is, are aware that the slightest break--one -stroke even, shirked--is an immense relief to the tugging oarsman. - -Beyond Bait's Bite Locks there is a three-and-a-half-miles course, -liable to be broken by the manoeuvres of a floating bridge or -ferry boat opposite Clayhithe. Next comes another short course -extending to Upware. And lastly from Upware to Ely there is a fine -five-and-a-half-miles course, considerably wider than the Cam, and -presenting several splendid reaches. To this course the Cambridge men -used to betake themselves four or five times in the course of their -preparation for the great race. But a course so far removed from the -university itself was clearly far less advantageous than the convenient -Oxford long course, extending from the ferry at Christ Church meadows -to Newnham. Still, annoying as the want of a convenient long-course -must be considered, I cannot attribute the long succession of Cambridge -defeats in 1861-69 to such a cause as this. It is true that before the -railway-bridge was built, the Cambridge crew used generally to win, and -that since it has been so far modified as not to interfere with the -passage of a racing eight, they have again been successful, whereas, -while the supports of the bridge checked them midway on their course, -they were less fortunate. But to connect these circumstances as cause -and effect, would be as unsafe as the theory of the Margate fishermen -who ascribed the Goodwin Sands to the building of the Reculvers. - -It has been said that the shallowness of the Cam affects the style of -Cambridge oarsmen. This seems to me a fanciful theory. Occasionally in -the course of a race close steering round one or other of the sharper -corners might permit the oarsmen to 'feel the bottom,' for two or -three strokes; but during all the rest of the course the oars find -plenty of water to take good hold of. The Cam was undoubtedly growing -shallower for some time after 1860; and the change gave some degree of -support to the theory that the peculiarities of the Cambridge style -were due to the peculiarities of the Cambridge river. But I believe -the notion was a wholly mistaken one; and I am confirmed in this -belief by noticing that the Cambridge style from 1860 to 1869 was in -all essential respects, and especially in that feature which I shall -presently describe as its radical and fatal defect, the same precisely -as it had been in earlier times when Cambridge was oftener successful -than defeated. - -I have heard Cambridge men say, indeed, that after rowing on the Cam -they feel quite strange on Thames water. They feel, they say, as if -the boat were running away with them. I have experienced the feeling -myself, when rowing on the Thames anywhere below Teddington; but most -markedly below Kew. It is not due, however, to the mere difference -in the depth of the two streams, but mainly, if not wholly, to the -circumstance that the lower part of the Thames is a tidal river. It is -not noticeable above Teddington, save (in a somewhat modified form) in -those portions of the river called 'races,' where the stream runs with -unusual rapidity. I should suppose that Oxonians felt the influence of -this peculiarity fully as much as Cambridge oarsmen do; in fact, I know -that this is the experience of some Oxonians, for they have told me as -much. - -I believe that the principal disadvantage which the narrowness of the -Cam entailed upon boating-men at Cambridge, lay in the circumstance -that Cambridge men never had an opportunity of rowing a level race. -They had 'bumping races' for the college eights--as the Oxonians -had--and time-races to decide between the merits of two or three boats, -whereas at Oxford two boats could contend side by side. Thus it was -to many Cambridge men a novel and somewhat disturbing experience to -find themselves rowing close alongside of their opponents. It may seem -fanciful to notice any disadvantage in such a matter as this; yet I -believe that the matter was not a trifle. The excitement which men -feel just before a race begins, and during the first half-mile or so -of its progress, is so intense that a small difference of this sort is -apt to produce much more effect than might be expected. I think the -somewhat flurried style in which the Cantabs were often observed to row -the first half-mile of the great race might be partly ascribed to this -cause. Of course, I am far from saying that if a Cambridge crew had -been decidedly better than their opponents, the race could have been -lost or even endangered from such a cause as this. - -And now it remains that I should point out that peculiarity in what -may be called the Cambridge style of rowing--though it is not now -systematically adopted by Cambridge crews--to which the defeats of -the light-blue flag in the years 1861-69 were I believe to be chiefly -attributed. - -It should be remembered that before we can recognise a peculiarity -of style as the cause of a long series of defeats, it must be shown -that the peculiarity is neither trifling nor accidental. There are -peculiarities in rowing which have a very slight effect upon the speed -with which the boat is propelled by the crew. Amongst these may be -fairly included such points as the following:--the habit of throwing -out the elbows just before feathering, feathering high or low, rowing -short or long (a technical expression now commonly, though incorrectly, -applied to the length of the stroke, but properly relating to the -distance at which the stretcher or foot-board is placed from the seat), -sitting high or low, and so on. All these peculiarities--of course -within reasonable limits--are unimportant, save in so far as they -indicate that the style of the stroke itself is faulty. Then again -there are accidental peculiarities, which may be exceedingly important -in themselves, but which yet produce only a transient influence, -because they are personal peculiarities of such and such a stroke, and -when he has left his university they remain no longer in vogue. As an -illustration of this sort of peculiarity, I may notice the remarkably -effective stroke rowed by Hall of Magdalen in the year 1858-60. There -the radical defect of the Cambridge style was almost obliterated, and -all the good points of that style were fully brought out. The result -was that, out of three races rowed with Oxford, Cambridge won two, and -though they lost the third, yet they lost it in such a manner as to -obtain more credit than any winning race could have brought them. I -refer to the memorable race of 1859, in which the Cambridge boat was, -at starting, half full of water, and gradually filling as the race -proceeded, sank about half-a-mile from the winning-post, being at the -moment of sinking only four lengths behind Oxford, notwithstanding -the tremendous difficulties under which the crew had all along been -rowing.[13] Mr. Hall also rowed stroke in the great race with the -famous London crew--Casamajor, Playford, the two Paynes, &c.--when -Cambridge won by half a boat's length. We have, however, to inquire -whether there is any point held to be essential by Cambridge oarsmen, -which is sufficiently important and sufficiently faulty to account for -the marked want of success which attended the light-blue flag in the -years 1861-69. The following peculiarity appears to me to be precisely -of such a character. - -It was formerly held by nearly all the Cambridge oarsmen that 'the -instant the oar touches the water' (I am quoting from a pamphlet called -'Principles of Rowing,' much read by rowing-men at Cambridge) 'the arms -and body should begin to fall backwards, the former continuing at their -full stretch till the back is perpendicular; they are then bent, the -elbows being brought close past the sides,' etc. If a Cambridge oarsman -broke this rule, so that his arms began to bend before his back was -upright, he would be told that he was jerking. 'This is caused,' says -our authority, 'by pulling the first part of the stroke with violence -and not falling gradually backwards to finish it. The most muscular men -are more than others guilty of it, because they trust too much to their -arms, instead of making each part of the body do its proportionate -quantity of work. It is most annoying to the rest of the crew, injures -the uniform swing throughout the boat, and soon tires out the man -himself, however strong he may be, because he is virtually rowing -unsupported, and he has nearly the whole weight of the boat on his arms -alone.' - -I was myself trained to row the Cambridge style, and when I became -captain of a boat-club, I was careful to inculcate this style -on my crew, and on other crews which came more or less directly -under my supervision. But I am convinced that the peculiarity so -carefully enjoined in past time by the Cambridge club-captains, and -still retained, is altogether erroneous for boats of the modern -build. I first became aware that the Cambridge style is not the -water-man's--and, therefore, presumably not the most effective--through -practising in a racing-four with three of our most noted Thames -watermen--the two Mackinnys, and Chitty of Richmond. They were then -preparing for the Thames National Regatta, though not as a set crew. -Accordingly the coxswain would frequently call upon us for a good -lifting spurt of a quarter of a mile or so. During these spurts the -coxswain was continually telling me that I was not keeping stroke, -and I was sensible myself that something was going wrong. One who -has taken part in boat-races very soon detects any irregularity in -the rowing--by which I do not of course refer to so gross a defect as -not keeping time. All the men of a crew may be keeping most perfect -time, and may even present the appearance of keeping stroke together, -and yet may not be feeling their work simultaneously. I was aware -that something was going wrong, but I found it impossible, without -abandoning the style of rowing in which I had been so carefully -trained, to keep stroke with the rest of the crew. It seemed to me that -they were doubling over their work, because while I was still swaying -backwards they had reached the limit of their swing. Then they did not -seem to me to feather with that lightning flash which the Cambridge -style enjoins. Altogether, I left them after three or four long pulls -with the impression that, though they might be very effective watermen, -they had but a poor style. - -Soon after, however, I had occasion to watch Oxford oarsmen at their -work, and I found that they row in a style which, without being -actually identical with that of the London waterman, resembles it in -all essential respects. The moment the oar catches the water, the body -is thrown back as in the Cambridge style, but the arms, instead of -being kept straight, immediately begin to do their share of the work. -The result is that when the body is upright the arms are already bent, -and the stroke is finished when the body is very little beyond the -perpendicular position. - -Now let us compare the two strokes theoretically. In each stroke the -body does a share of the work, and in the Cambridge stroke the body -even seems to do more work than in the Oxford stroke, since it is -swayed farther back. In each stroke, again, the arms do a share of the -work, but in the Oxford stroke the work of the arms is distributed -equally as a help to that of the body, whereas in the Cambridge stroke -the work of the arms is all thrown upon the finish of the stroke. At -first sight it seems to matter very little in what order the work is -done, so long as the same amount of work is done in the same space of -time. But here an important consideration has to be attended to. - -There are two things which the oarsman does in whatever style he rows. -He propels the boat along, by pressing the blade of his oar against the -water as a fulcrum; but he also propels his oar more or less through -the water. If instead of the actual state of things, the boat were to -slide along an oiled groove in some solid substance, whose surface was -so ridged that the oar could bear upon the ridges without any flexure, -then indeed it would matter very little in what way the oar was pulled, -so long as it was pulled through a good range in a short space of time. -But the actual state of things being different, we have to inquire -whether it is not possible that one style of rowing may serve more than -another to make the slip of the oar through the water (a dead loss, be -it remarked, so far as the propulsion of the boat is concerned) bear -too large a proportion to the actual work done by the rower. - -Let us make a simple illustration. Suppose a person standing on the -edge of a sheet of water seeks to propel across the sheet a heavy -log lying near the bank. If he gives the log a violent kick, it will -scarcely move at all through the water, but after a few vibrations -will be seen to lie a few inches from its former position. The force -expended has not been thrown away, however, but has resulted in a -violent shock to the kicker. But if instead of kicking the log the -person apply the same amount of force gently at first and then with -gradually increasing intensity, the log will receive a much more -effective impetus, and its motion will continue long after the force -has ceased to be exerted. The same amount of force which before -produced a motion of a few inches will now project the log several -yards. - -And now to apply this illustration. If the object of the rower were to -move his oar through the water--the boat being supposed for the moment -to be a fixture--he could not do better than to adopt the Cambridge -style of pulling. For this style gives a steady pressure on the oar -at the beginning of the stroke, followed by a gradual increase, and -ending by a sharp lift through the water. On the contrary, the Oxford -style, in which arms and body apply all their strength at once to the -oar, would probably, as in the case of our imaginary _fixed boats_, -result in the fracture of the oar. If the boat were not fixed, but very -heavy and clumsy, conclusions very different from the above would be -arrived at. The Oxford style would be unsuitable to the propulsion of -a heavy boat, because, although the oar would have very little slip -through the water, yet the boat itself could not be moved in so sudden -a manner as to make the applied force available. On the other hand, -the Cambridge style would be very suitable; because, although there -would be considerable 'slip' this would in any case be inevitable, and -the force would be applied to the boat (as well as to the oar) in the -gradual increasing manner best suited to produce motion through the -water. Hence we can understand the long series of victories gained by -the light-blue oarsmen in the 'old fashioned racing eights'. But when -we come to consider the case of a boat like the present wager-boat--a -boat which answers immediately to the slightest propelling force--we -see that that mode of rowing must be the most effective which permits -the oar to have the least possible motion _through_ the water, which -lifts the boat along from the water _as from an almost stable fulcrum_. -Hence it is that that sharp grip of the water which is taken by London -watermen, and by rowers at Oxford, Eton, Radley, and Westminster, is so -much more effective than the heavy drag followed by a rapid and almost -jerking finish which marks the Cambridge style. - -The mention of public-school rowing leads me to urge another -consideration. There are public-school oarsmen at Cambridge, and -they hold, as might be supposed, a high position amongst university -rowing-men. In general they form so small a minority of college -racing-men, that they have to give up their own workmanlike style, and -adopt the style of those they row with. But there is one club--the -Third Trinity Club--which consists exclusively of Eton and Westminster -men, and although it is a small club, it has been repeatedly at the -head of the river, holding its own successfully against clubs which -have sent in far heavier and better-trained crews. But even more -remarkable is the fact that powerful college crews were sent from -Cambridge to Henley between the years _1860-69 which have actually -been unable to maintain their own against Eton lads_! This of itself -suffices to show that there was something radically wrong in the style -then prevalent at Cambridge; for in such races age, weight, strength, -and length of practice were all in favour of the Cambridge crews. - -When I first expressed these views about the Oxford and Cambridge -style in the 'Daily News' in April 1869, several Oxford and Cambridge -men denied that the difference between the two styles was that which -I have indicated, asserting that neither Oxford nor Cambridge oarsmen -advocated working with the arms in the beginning of the stroke. It was -so great a novelty to myself to learn, in 1858, that London watermen -row in the manner I have described, and I found the very watermen who -rowed in that way so confidently denying that they did so, that I was -not greatly surprised to find many University men, and not a few of -the first University oarsmen, persisting that the rules laid down in -'Principles of Rowing' before the modern racing-boats were used are -still valid and are still followed at Oxford as well as Cambridge. It -was denounced as a special heresy to teach that work should be done by -the arms at the beginning of the stroke, instead of the old rule being -followed according to which the arms were to remain straight till the -body was upright in the backward swing, the work being done entirely -by the body and legs up to that moment, and then finished by the arms. -But before I ventured to enunciate a theory on the subject I had been -careful to apply a number of tests not only while watching Oxford and -Cambridge eights, but in actual practice. I had inquired diligently -also of those who are not merely able to adopt a good rowing style but -to analyse it, so as to learn precisely where and how they do their -work. In some cases, I found first-rate oarsmen had given very little -thought to the matter; but on the question being put to them, they -quickly recognised the essential principles on which the most effective -and the least tiring style for the modern racing-boat depends. One -such oarsman said to me, after giving a few days' trial as well as -thought to the matter--'You are quite right; arms, legs, and body must -work together from the very beginning'; the work is done when the body -comes upright; and not only must this be so for the work to be done in -the most effective way, but it is essential also if the hands are to -be quickly disengaged, the recovery quick, and a good reach forward -obtained. - -I found, however, that the essential distinction between a good style -in the modern racing eight, and a good style in the old-fashioned -boats, had been recognised (at least, so far as the modern boats are -concerned) a year before my article in the 'Daily News' appeared. In an -article on 'Water Derbies,' 'Wat Bradwood,' describing the University -race of 1868, draws the following distinctions between the two crews, -which precisely accord with my own observations on that occasion; only -it is to be noticed that, whereas he is describing the beginning of -the race, the whole of which he witnessed from the Umpire's boat, my -observations were made from the shore not far from the finish, when -Oxford was so far ahead that there was ample time to note separately -and closely the style of each boat:--'The styles of progress of the -two boats themselves are palpably distinct,' he says; 'Cambridge -take a shorter time to come through the air than to row through the -water; they go much farther backward than Oxford, and are very slow -in getting the hands off the chest; their boat is drawn through the -water at each stroke, but has hardly any perceptible "lift." Oxford, -on the other hand, swing just the reverse of Cambridge, a long time in -getting forward' (he means of course, a _relatively longer_ time, for -no good oarsman would ever take a long time in getting forward), 'and -very fast through the water, driving the oars through with a hit like -sledgehammers, while the boat jumps out of the water several inches -at each stroke.' These last words again relate rather to contrast -between the boats than to the actual lift. The 'drag at the end' in -the Cambridge style used always to dip the nose of the eight, whereas -the quick disengagement of the hands in the Oxford style prevents any -dipping, so that by contrast the Oxford boat seen beside the Cambridge -seemed lifted at the end of each stroke. In reality there was very -little if any lifting, though the sharp grip of the water at the -beginning of the stroke caused the boat to dip a little as compared -with her position at the end. Theoretically, the less change of level -throughout the stroke (from feather to finish) the better; but if there -is any such change, it is far better it should be of the nature of a -lift above the flotation-level than of the nature of a dip below that -level. - -Again, towards the close of the same article 'Wat Bradwood' made the -following pertinent remarks respecting the Oxford style in 1868 and -generally: 'The general style of Oxford has not deteriorated; though -many outsiders fancied that Oxford rowed a short stroke, it was more -that the time occupied by them in slashing the oar through the water -was short than the reach itself; this deceived inexperienced eyes, -especially when compared to the slow 'draw through' (query 'drag') of -Cambridge, which often appeared for similar reasons a longer stroke -than it really was.[14] He attributed the defeat of the Cantabs, who -were a stronger set of men than the Oxonians, to the teaching of their -'coach,' who had been (though this he does not mention) as good a -'coach' as ever existed for rowing in the old fashioned style of boats, -but whose 'experience availed nothing to teach the modern style of -light-boat rowing.' - -In another article by the same writer, in the 'Pall Mall Gazette,' -(1868), a noteworthy illustration is given of the value of a good -style. 'Among the college boats in the first division at Cambridge this -year, the strongest were perhaps First Trinity, Trinity Flail, and -notably Emmanuel; the weakest in the division was the Lady Margaret -crew,'--the crew representing St. John's College. 'But notwithstanding -this, Lady Margaret went up one place, and pressed Trinity very hotly. -There must, of course, be some special reason to account for eight -weak men proving superior to eight strong ones.' There is a little -(unintentional) exaggeration here; the stroke of the Lady Margaret -crew was a strong as well as an elegant oarsman, and two others of the -crew could certainly not be called weak; nevertheless the crew as a -whole was undoubtedly weak compared with most of the other crews of the -first division, 'That reason,' proceeds our author, 'is to be found -in _style_. Every day of practice on the Cam you hear the "coaches" -of the different racing-boats giving their crews certain directions, -some absurd, and nearly all, from some accidental reason, useless. The -chief of these is to "keep it long," and if you object to the results -of this teaching, you are told that "length" is the great requisite of -good rowing, and that "Oxford, sir, always beat us, because they are -longer than we are." Now, this is true and yet untrue. At Cambridge -"length" is acquired by making the men "finish the stroke," that is, by -making them "swing well back" beyond the perpendicular. Of course the -oar remains longer in the water, but we maintain that the extra time -it is kept there by the backward motion of the body is time lost. The -"swinging back" throws a tremendous strain on the abdominal muscles, -the weakest rowing muscles in the body; very soon the men feel this -strain, become exhausted, and unable to "get forward," and finally -lose time and swing and "go all to pieces." Length obtained by going -backwards is of no possible use. A crew ought to be "coached" to get -as far _forward_ as they can, to finish the stroke by bringing their -elbows past their sides, and their hands well into their bodies, -and then complaints about "wind" and "last" will be fewer. This was -abundantly proved in the late May races. First Trinity, it is true, -kept "head," but only because of their great strength, and because they -had a stroke who understood the duties of his position. Before, the -races every sporting newspaper, every supposed judge of rowing in the -University, was certain about only one thing, and that was that Lady -Margaret must go down; the only question was where they would stop. -They, however, not only kept away from Trinity Hall, but finished above -Emmanuel and Third Trinity, infinitely stronger' (which no doubt must -be understood as meaning 'far stronger') 'boats. The reason was that -they were the only boat on the river which rowed in anything like a -good style. They had the reach forward, the quick recovery, and the -equally quick disengagement of the hands, which marked the Oxford crew -of 1868. Consequently although a very weak lot of men, they were able -to vindicate style against strength. We hope' (added Wat Bradwood) -'that Cambridge generally will appreciate the lesson; it is one that -has not been taught them for years, and results on their own river -ought to show its value.' Less than a year after this was written, -the Cambridge boat, with Goldie, the Lady Margaret stroke, at the -aft thwart, were just beaten by Oxford in one of the best races ever -rowed, and the year after, with the same stroke, they won for the first -time in ten years. The subsequent successes of the Jesus boat on the -Cam afforded further illustrations of the superiority of style over -strength. For the Jesus boat has remained for years at the head of -the river, though the crew as a whole has often been far surpassed in -strength by the crews of Trinity, John's, and other colleges. - -There is, as the writer from whom I have quoted above correctly says, -'no opposition between theory and practice in this matter, any more -than there is in metaphysics or moral philosophy.' The ill-success of -Cambridge in past years was in the main due to a want of appreciation -of theory, and the absence of due recognition of the entire change -which the introduction of the light outrigged racing-boat had produced -in the art of effective rowing. The Cambridge 'finish to the stroke,' -the 'lug at the end,' as sailors call it, was excellent with the old -fashioned boats. It was indeed essential to success in a race, as was -the lightning feather. But now the essential conditions are a sharp -grasp of the water at the beginning of the stroke, the intensest -possible action then and throughout the time the oar is in the water, -so that the oar may be as short a time as possible in the water, but -_in the time_ may have the largest possible range. This result must -not merely be obtained from each individual member of the crew, but -from all together in precisely the same time. It is necessary that -the stroke should mark the time in the most distinct and emphatic -manner. In the Cambridge style, or what at least used so to be called, -perfect time, though of course always desirable, was not so absolutely -essential as in the Oxford style. The oars being a long time in the -water, it mattered less if any oarsman was for a small fraction of a -second behind or in advance of his fellows. But with the sharp dash -upon the water and the quick tear through the water of the better -style, perfect simultaneity is all-important. The stroke must not only -have first a good style himself, and secondly a keen sense of time, but -he must have that power of making his crew know and feel what he is -doing, and what he wants them to do, which constitutes the essential -distinction between the merely steady stroke and such a stroke as every -man of the crew feels to be made for the place. When one of these 'born -strokes' occupies the aft thwart, there is no occasion for the coxswain -to tell the crew when to quicken or when to row steadily at their -hardest; for the whole crew knows and feels the purpose of the stroke -as distinctly as he knows and feels it himself. - -_The following paragraph, written a few days before the race (1879) is -left unaltered. I may note that Marriott, the successful Oxford stroke -of 1878, so far succeeded in improving the style of the Oxford boat -when he took the aft thwart in '79 (far too late by the way), that -Cambridge did not win by anything like the expected distance._ - -[Since the above was written I have seen both the crews for the present -year's race at work. It is too early to venture a prediction as to the -result of the race, though the odds offered on Cambridge would seem to -imply that nothing short of an accident can save Oxford from a crushing -defeat. It is manifest that Cambridge has the stronger crew, and the -style of the Oxford crew at present is not such as to indicate that -this year the Oxford style will defeat superior strength. In fact, at -present, Oxford shows defects which have been wont to characterise -Cambridge crews, and which unmistakably do characterise the present -Cambridge crew, fine though it undoubtedly is. But if, as has before -now happened, the Oxford crew fall into the true Oxford style during -the fortnight before the race, the odds will not be 2 to 1 as at -present, nor even 3 to 2, on Cambridge.] - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 13: 'Wat Bradwood,' in an article on 'Water Derbies,' -afterwards referred to, says that Cambridge was fairly beaten when the -boat sank. He might with equal justice have said that they were fairly -beaten when they started. They never had a chance of winning from the -start, having then half a boat-full, and for some time before they sank -a whole boat-full, of water to take along with them.] - -[Footnote 14: This agrees closely with my own description written -later, but independently, and flatly contradicted by more than one -Oxford oarsman at the time: 'In the case of Oxford,' I said, after -describing the lightning feather following the long sweeping stroke -of Cambridge, 'we observe a style which at first sight seems less -excellent. As soon as the oars are dashed down and catch their first -hold of the water, the arms as well as the shoulders of each oarsman -are at work. The result is that when the back has reached an upright -position the hands have already reached the chest, and the stroke is -finished. Thus the Oxford stroke takes a perceptibly shorter time than -the Cambridge stroke; it is also necessarily somewhat shorter in the -water. One would therefore say it must be less effective. Especially -would an unpractised observer form this opinion, because the Oxford -stroke seems to be much shorter in range than it is in reality. There -we have the secret of its efficiency. It is actually as long as the -Cambridge stroke, but is taken in a perceptibly shorter time. What -does this mean but that the oar is taken more sharply, and therefore -much more effectively, through the water? Much more effectively, -I proceeded, 'so far as the actual conditions of the contest are -concerned,' going on to consider the difference between the modern and -the old fashioned racing boats.--_Light Science for Leisure Hours_: -Essay on Oxford and Cambridge Rowing Styles.] - - - - -_ROWING STYLES._ - - -Professor Marcy has recently discussed, in a lecture on Living -Locomotors (_Moteurs Animés_), the principles of propulsion. Had he -been an Englishman he would probably have found some of his most -striking illustrations among different cases of propulsion through -water. But, although he limited his discussion of animated motors to -those which work on land, he yet laid down the fundamental principle -of all propulsion, which is that as little as possible--and therefore, -if possible, none at all--of the energy employed to produce propulsion -should be expended in injurious work. Even with the best carriages, he -pointed out, there remain vibrations and shocks which must be attacked -and destroyed to render the conditions of traction more perfect; they -are veritable shocks, which use up part of the work of the horse in -giving only hurtful effects, bruising the animal's breast, injuring -his muscles, and, in spite of the padding of the collar, sometimes -wounding him. Then he showed a simple experiment suggested by the able -dynamician, Poncelet. To a weight of five kilos, (about 11lb.) a string -is attached by which the weight can be lifted, but not much more. Then -the experimenter tries to lift the weight rapidly with the string, -which breaks without moving the weight, while the fingers are more or -less hurt by the sudden shock. If now, a cord of equal strength, but -slightly elastic, is substituted, the experiment ends differently. The -sudden effort of elevation is transformed into a more prolonged action, -and the weight is raised without bruising the fingers or breaking the -cord. Yet a still more sudden movement would break the cord in this -case, though a yet more extensible cord would resist even a yet more -sudden jerk. According to the strength of the cord, its extensibility, -and the weight to be lifted, must be the nature of the upward pull in -order that the greatest possible velocity may be communicated without -injury to the cord or to the lifter's hand. This simple series of -experiments involves the essential principles of effective propulsion, -where, at least, great velocity is among the results to be attained. - -Although, perhaps, at present, the public are disposed to consider the -University race from a sporting rather than from a scientific point of -view, yet it has long been admitted, even by the most ardent lovers -of rowing as a sport, that it has its scientific side. In a pamphlet -on the 'Principles of Rowing,' by 'Oarsmen,' written somewhere about -the year 1847,--it bears no date, but speaks of rowing as having first -appeared as a public amusement 11 years ago, and the first University -race on the Thames was rowed in 1836,--the writers urge that rowing -surely deserves to be called a scientific pursuit, and proceed to trace -out the 'main principles in virtue of which it claims a scientific -character.' These principles, which were generally considered sound -when they were originally enunciated, though even then they were -beginning to be to some degree questionable, have been quoted over and -over again since, or, if not verbally quoted, have been, in effect, -adopted by writers on rowing. The justice of some of them has caused -the entire set to be received without question, even by oarsmen who -in practice depart from several of them in a very marked degree. The -assumption has been that there is but one good rowing style, and that, -therefore, a style adopted and proved by practice to be the best in -the years 1836-1846 should be adopted as the best now. 'There is but -one style,' says one authority, 'and one alone,' he adds with some -redundancy. Now, in so far as river racing is almost always carried -on in boats of the same kind for each class--eight oars, four oars, -pairs, and sculls--it is in a sense true that there is but one racing -style. But even in river rowing, as distinguished from river racing, -there are more styles than one,--by which we mean more correct styles, -for, of course, there are multitudinous bad styles in every kind of -rowing. The style suitable for a racing boat moving at full speed -would not be suitable even for the same boat at starting, and would -be utterly unsuitable for a pleasure boat. We may remark, in passing, -that, however suitable tubbing practice may be several weeks before a -race, it is open to objection after a crew has settled into its racing -stroke. No one who understands rowing will assert that even the two -strongest members of either University crew _can_ row in the same style -in tub practice as in their eight at her full speed, or, seeing them, -will fail to perceive that they row entirely different strokes in the -tub and in the eight. Again, the style of rowing proved by practical -experience to be best in seaside racing is entirely different from the -style successful in river racing. Yet another style is essential to -success in races rowed in the heavier boats used by men-of-war's men. -And it will be admitted, we think, though no experiments have yet, -to our knowledge, been made in this direction, that if matches were -arranged among our best bargemen and lightermen we should see a mode -of pulling which would differ as markedly from the man-of-war's man's -strokes as that does from the stroke which O'Leary, of Folkestone, -rows, and this in turn from the style of the best London or University -oarsmen. So far as these last two styles are concerned, it should be -remembered that they have been put to the test in the most decisive -manner. The best London oarsmen have been repeatedly defeated in -seaside rowing (even in still weather), and the best seaside oarsmen -have been beaten in river rowing. It would be absurd to attribute this -to awkwardness in unfamiliar boats, for any good oarsman can very -soon row without awkwardness in any kind of boat. It was the style -which made the difference--the style only. On _à priori_ grounds, -then, we should expect to find the question whether the style approved -by 'Oarsmen' 30 years ago should be, as it is, the style constantly -recommended now-a-days depending simply on the question whether the -racing boat of our time is similar, so far as the requirements of -propulsion are concerned, to the old-fashioned racing boats, however -different in appearance the two kinds of boat may be. To assert this, -however, would be almost equivalent to asserting that there has been -no real improvement in the qualities of racing boats--nay, when one -considers the great advantages possessed, in some respects, by the old -fashioned boats and their much superior durability, we should have -to acknowledge that racing boats had deteriorated. No one will for a -moment assert this. We know that the racing boat of our time is not -only much lighter, but travels with much less resistance through the -water, maintains its velocity far better between the strokes, and can -be made with equal effort to go at least one-fifth faster than the old -fashioned racing boat. The antecedent probability is, then, that the -modern racing boat requires a mode of propulsion unlike that which was -approved in 1840 or thereabouts--requires, in fact, a style which in -those days would have been justly regarded as radically bad. - -There is direct evidence from the results of many years of racing to -show that this difference really exists, as might be expected, though -the evidence may probably be questioned by those who maintain that -there is but one good rowing style. It is well known that the style -approved by 'Oarsmen' in the work above mentioned was first definitely -inculcated by Cambridge oarsmen. There is internal evidence in the -pamphlet itself (as where the miseries of the Lent races at Cambridge -are described) to show that some, and, therefore, probably all, who -took part in preparing the work were Cambridge men. Again, it is well -known that certainly until 1868, and perhaps later, the University crew -at Cambridge was 'coached' by an 'ancient mariner,' who, if not one -of the 'Oarsmen' and, as was generally reported, the actual writer -of the 'Principles of Rowing,' was unquestionably imbued with the old -fashioned doctrines. Now, of the six races rowed on the Thames in -the old fashioned racing boats, Cambridge won no less than five. The -Oxford crews, who rowed in a style more nearly resembling that now -rowed by the most successful crews (though scarcely ever inculcated -in verbal instructions), were not only beaten in every race save one, -but in three cases were beaten out of all reason. Half a minute was -the amount by which Cambridge won in 1845; but in 1836 (certainly -over a longer course) they won by one minute, in 1841 by one minute -and a quarter, and in 1839 by nearly two minutes. No wonder that when -outrigged boats came in Cambridge oarsmen were loth to modify a style -which had gained them so many and such striking successes. Nor did it -greatly matter, when this happened in 1846, whether the style of rowing -was modified or not. The first specimens of outrigged racing boats -occupied a sort of half-way position between the old-fashioned inrigged -craft and the exceedingly light, keelless boats now used. Thus, during -the seven races rowed in the earlier form of outrigged boats, success -was pretty equally divided between Oxford and Cambridge. In one race -Oxford won on a foul; of the other six Cambridge won three, and Oxford -also won three. But since the present form of racing boat was adopted -(in 1857) Oxford has been almost as successful as Cambridge had been -in the first nine or ten races. In 1857 Oxford won easily; in 1858 -Cambridge won, but the stroke of the Oxford boat could use but half -his strength, the forward or working thole of his rowlocks having been -bent outwards by a wave which caught his oar before the race began. -(The outriggers and rowlocks were shown to me at Searle's boat-house -a few days after the race, and there could be no question that the -chances of the Oxford boat must have been seriously impaired by the -accident.) In 1859 Cambridge sank, and, though she was four lengths -behind when this happened, there can be little doubt she would have -won but for the original cause of the disaster--a wave which had half -filled the Cambridge boat as she was turning to take her place at the -starting-point. In 1860 Cambridge won by one length only. Then, as -everyone remembers, there followed nine successive Oxford victories, -some of which were of the most hollow kind. Cambridge then gave up the -style to which she had so long been faithful. One of the ablest of -the Oxford oarsmen, who was, however, connected in some degree with -Cambridge, trained and coached the Cambridge crew of 1870, the stroke -of which, it should be mentioned, was proficient in the correct style -before he went to Cambridge. That year and for the four next years -Cambridge won, though never in the hollow fashion in which Oxford had -won the victories of 1861, 1862, 1863, 1864, and 1868. The lead of -Oxford at the finish of these five races averaged over nine lengths, -while the lead of Cambridge in the five races of 1870-74 averaged -little over two lengths. In 1875 Oxford won by ten lengths, Cambridge -in 1876 by five. In 1877 occurred the celebrated dead heat; but before -bow's oar broke Oxford had won 'bar accidents.' In 1878 Oxford won, -and again by ten lengths. Of the 25 races actually rowed to a finish -(excluding the dead heat) since outriggers were introduced, Oxford has -won 14, Cambridge 11; of the 19 so rowed out since the true modern -racing boat was used, Oxford has won 11 and Cambridge 8. The difference -is sufficient in either case to show (the numbers being considerable) -that there is a true difference of style, the style of Oxford being -the better. But when we consider how the victories have been won this -comes out still more clearly. Making due estimate of the number of -lengths corresponding to so many seconds of time difference (where -the result of a race is so indicated in the list), for which purpose -it is sufficient to note that as many seconds as the race itself has -occupied minutes are equivalent to about 6-1/2 lengths, we find for the -11 victories of Cambridge since 1846 about 30-1/4 lengths, and for the -14 rowed-out victories of Oxford about 106-1/2 lengths--the Cambridge -average lead being thus found to be less than three lengths, while the -Oxford average lead at the finish has been close on eight lengths. - -The difference cannot reasonably be assigned to any cause which -was in operation when Cambridge had the larger share of victories. -Nearly every cause which has been commonly assigned, including the -unquestionably inferior arrangements for college racing at Cambridge, -falls into this category. There can be very little doubt that the -true explanation, as well of Cambridge success before 1850 as of -Oxford success since then, resides in the circumstance that the two -Universities have in the main adopted throughout the whole series of -contests two different styles--each style excellent in itself, but the -Cambridge as unquestionably superior to the Oxford for the heavier -kinds of river boats as the Oxford style is superior to the Cambridge -for the boats now actually used in river races. What the difference in -the two styles is I shall now briefly indicate. - -I am satisfied that the essential excellence of the old fashioned -racing style as used in the old fashioned boats becomes an inherent -defect in the same style as used in modern racing boats. I refer to the -principle involved in the words italicised (by myself) in the following -quotation from 'Principles of Rowing':--'The instant the oar touches -the water the arms and body begin to fall backwards, the _former -continuing at their full stretch till the back is perpendicular_. They -are then bent, the elbows being brought close past the sides, till -the hands, which are now brought home sharply, strike the body above -the lowest ribs.' Such was the stroke that brave old Coombes used to -teach, and such was the stroke by which, time and again, races were won -before 1850. But in proportion as the racing boat has been improved, -both by diminution of weight and resistance and by change of leverage, -the necessity has increased for a more energetic application of the -oarsman's power. A stroke which resulted in mere jerking, injurious -to the rower and not adding to speed, in the old racing boats, is -absolutely essential to the effective propulsion of the modern racing -boat, when once at least full speed has been attained, for before this -the old fashioned long drag with lightning feather is as useful now as -ever. Now, no one who has watched a really good Oxford crew at full -speed can fail to observe the way in which the oars literally smite -the water at the beginning of each stroke. No one who considers the -velocity with which they must move to give this sledge-hammer stroke -at the beginning can fail to perceive that the body alone cannot give -this velocity of impulse in the first part of the stroke. There is only -one way in which it can be attained, and that is by making the arms -work from the beginning, not merely in the sense in which they may -be said to work when continuing at their full stretch, but by actual -and energetic contraction. In the Cambridge style arms and body only -work together after the back is perpendicular; in the Oxford style -they work together from the beginning. The result is that by the time -the Oxford oars man has brought his back perpendicular his stroke is -finished; whereas the Cambridge oarsman has still to give that drag -at the end which used to be so much esteemed, and still is justly -esteemed, by sailors for sea-racing. The oar of the Oxford rower is a -much shorter time in the water, simply because it is propelled through -the water with far greater, or rather with much more concentrated -energy. The Oxford stroke, again, is necessarily a few inches shorter. -For as Cambridge men go as far forward and swing further backward, -it stands to reason that they get a little more length. But they get -this additional length at the cost of a great strain on the abdominal -muscles, and with no proportional effect. A very strong crew which -can maintain the long, dragging stroke with the lightning feather -from beginning to end may win, as Cambridge men have won, but only -because of their superior strength, not by virtue of that lift at the -end, which wearies the most stalwart, causes sluggish disengagement -of the hands, and in a long race has often caused a powerful crew to -be beaten by weaker men rowing in a more scientific manner. It is not -impossible, now that the Oxford crew have had set them the true Oxford -stroke that we may have an opportunity of witnessing something of this -kind on Saturday, though the manifest superiority of the Cambridge -crew in strength and the lateness of the change in the Oxford boat are -unfavourable to the chances of the dark blue. To return to the point -from which we started. The just style of propulsion for each class of -boat is a matter to be determined on scientific principles. There is -no real conflict between theory and practice in this matter. Every -change which has tended to increase the speed of racing boats has (like -the changes in Poncelet's experiment) rendered necessary an increased -energy, or, as one may say, an increased intensity of propulsion. - - - - -_ARTIFICIAL SOMNAMBULISM._ - - -Rather more than a quarter of a century ago two Americans visited -London, who called themselves professors of Electro-Biology, and -claimed the power of 'subjugating the most determined wills, paralysing -the strongest muscles, preventing the evidence of the senses, -destroying the memory of the most familiar events or of the most -recent occurrences, inducing obedience to any command, and making an -individual believe himself transformed into any one else.' All this -and more was to be effected, they said, by the action of a small disc -of zinc and copper held in the hand of the 'subject,' and steadily -gazed at by him, 'so as to concentrate the electro-magnetic action.' -The pretensions of these professors received before long a shock as -decisive as that which overthrew the credit of the professors of -animal magnetism when Haygarth and Falconer successfully substituted -wooden tractors for the metallic tractors which had been supposed -to convey the magnetic fluid. In 1851, Mr. Braid, a Scotch surgeon, -who had witnessed some of the exhibitions of the electro-biologists, -conceived the idea that the phenomena were not due to any special -qualities possessed by the discs of zinc and copper, but simply to -the fixed look of the 'subject' and the entire abstraction of his -attention. The same explanation applied to the so-called 'magnetic -passes' of the mesmerists. The monotonous manipulation of the operator -produced the same effect as the fixed stare of the 'subject.' He showed -by his experiments that no magnetiser, with his imaginary secret -agents or fluids, is in the least wanted; but that the subjects can -place themselves in the same condition as the supposed subjects of -electro-biological influences by simply gazing fixedly at some object -for a long time with fixed attention. - -The condition thus superinduced is not hypnotism, or artificial -somnambulism, properly so called. 'The electro-biological' condition -may be regarded as simply a kind of reverie or abstraction artificially -produced. But Braid discovered that a more perfect control might be -obtained over 'subjects,' and a condition resembling that of the -sleepwalker artificially induced, by modifying the method of fixing the -attention. Instead of directing the subject's gaze upon a bright object -placed at a considerable distance from the eyes, so that no effect -was required to concentrate vision upon it, he placed a bright object -somewhat above and in front of the eyes at so short a distance that -the convergence of their axes upon it was accompanied with sufficient -effect to produce even a slight amount of pain. The condition to which -the 'subjects' of this new method were reduced was markedly different -from the ordinary 'electro-biological' state. Thus on one occasion, in -the presence of 800 persons, fourteen men were experimented upon. 'All -began the experiment at the same time; the former with their eyes fixed -upon a projecting cork, placed securely on their foreheads; the others -at their own will gazed steadily at certain points in the direction of -the audience. In the course of ten minutes the eyelids of these ten -persons had involuntarily closed. With some, consciousness remained; -others were in catalepsy, and entirely insensible to being stuck with -needles; and others on awakening knew absolutely nothing of what had -taken place during their sleep.' The other four simply passed into -the ordinary condition of electro-biologised 'subjects,' retaining -the recollection of all that happened to them while in the state of -artificial abstraction or reverie. - -Dr. Carpenter, in that most interesting work of his, 'Mental -Physiology,' thus describes the state of hypnotism:--'The process is -of the same kind as that employed for the induction of the "biological" -state; the only difference lying in the _greater intensity_ of the -gaze, and in the more complete concentration of will upon the direction -of the eyes, which the nearer approximation of the object requires -for the maintenance of the convergence. In hypnotism, as in ordinary -somnambulism, no remembrance whatever is preserved in the waking state -of anything that may have occurred during its continuance; although the -previous train of thought may be taken up and continued uninterruptedly -on the next occasion that the hypnotism is induced. And when the mind -is not excited to activity by the stimulus of external impressions, the -hypnotised subject appears to be profoundly asleep; a state of complete -torpor, in fact, being usually the first result of the process, and -any subsequent manifestation of activity being procurable only by -the prompting of the operator. The hypnotised subject, too, rarely -opens his eyes; his bodily movements are usually slow; his mental -operations require a considerable time in their performance; and there -is altogether an appearance of heaviness about him, which contrasts -strongly with the comparatively wide-awake air of him who has not -passed beyond the ordinary "biological" state.' - -We must note, however, in passing, that the condition of complete -hypnotism had been obtained in several instances by some of the -earlier experimenters in animal magnetism. One remarkable instance -was communicated to the surgical section of the French Academy on -April 16, 1829, by Jules Cloquet. Two meetings were entirely devoted -to its investigation. The following account presents all the chief -points of the case, surgical details being entirely omitted, however, -as not necessary for our present purpose:--A lady, aged sixty-four, -consulted M. Cloquet on April 8, 1829, on account of an ulcerated -cancer of the right breast which had continued, gradually growing -worse, during several years. M. Chapelain, the physician attending the -lady, had 'magnetised' her for some months, producing no remedial -effects, but only a very profound sleep or torpor, during which all -sensibility seemed to be annihilated, while the ideas retained all -their clearness. He proposed to M. Cloquet to operate upon her while -she was in this state of torpor, and, the latter, considering the -operation the only means of saving her life, consented. The two doctors -do not appear to have been troubled by any scruples as to their right -thus to conduct an operation to which, when in her normal condition, -the patient strenuously objected. It sufficed for them that when -they had put her to sleep artificially, she could be persuaded to -submit to it. On the appointed day M. Cloquet found the patient ready -'dressed and seated in an elbow-chair, in the attitude of a person -enjoying a quiet natural sleep.' In reality, however, she was in the -somnambulistic state, and talked calmly of the operation. During the -whole time that the operation lasted--from ten to twelve minutes--she -continued to converse quietly with M. Cloquet, 'and did not exhibit -the slightest sign of sensibility. There was no motion of the limbs -or of the features, no change in the respiration nor in the voice; no -motions even in the pulse. The patient continued in the same state -of automatic indifference and impassibility in which she had been -some minutes before the operation.' For forty-eight hours after this, -the patient remained in the somnambulistic state, showing no sign of -pain during the subsequent dressing of the wound. When awakened from -this prolonged sleep she had no recollection of what had passed in -the interval; 'but on being informed of the operation, and seeing her -children around her, she experienced a very lively emotion which the -"magnetiser" checked by immediately setting her asleep.' Certainly none -of the hypnotised 'subjects' of Mr. Braid's experiments showed more -complete abstraction from their normal condition than this lady; and -other cases cited in Bertrand's work, 'Le Magnetisme Animal en France' -(1826), are almost equally remarkable. As it does not appear that in -any of these cases Braid's method of producing hypnotism by causing -the eyes, or rather their optical axes, to be converged upon a point, -was adopted, we must conclude that this part of the method is not -absolutely essential to success. Indeed, the circumstance that in some -of Braid's public experiments numbers of the audience became hypnotised -without his knowledge, shows that the more susceptible 'subjects' do -not require to contemplate a point near and slightly above the eyes, -but may be put into the true hypnotic state by methods which, with the -less susceptible, produce only the electro-biological condition. - -It will be well, however, to inquire somewhat carefully into this -point. My present object, I would note, is not merely to indicate the -remarkable nature of the phenomena of hypnotism, but to consider these -phenomena with direct reference to their probable cause. It may not be -possible to obtain a satisfactory explanation of them. But it is better -to view them as phenomena to be accounted for than merely as surprising -but utterly inexplicable circumstances. - -Now we have fortunately the means of determining the effect of the -physical relations involved in these experiments, apart from those -which are chiefly due to imagination. For animals can be hypnotised, -and the conditions necessary for this effect to be fully produced have -been ascertained. - -The most familiar experiment of this sort is sometimes known as -Kircher's. Let the feet of a hen be tied together (though this is not -necessary in all cases), and the hen placed on a level surface. Then if -the body of the hen is gently pressed down, the head extended with the -beak pointing downwards, touching the surface on which the hen stands, -and a chalk mark is drawn slowly along the surface, from the tip of the -beak in a line extending directly from the bird's eye, it is found that -the hen will remain for a considerable time perfectly still, though -left quite free to move. She is, in fact, hypnotised. - -We have now to inquire what parts of the process just described are -effective in producing the hypnotic condition, or whether all are -essential to success in the experiment. - -In the first place, the fastening of the feet may be dispensed -with. But it has its influence, and makes the experiment easier. An -explanation, or rather an illustration, of its effect is afforded by a -singular and interesting experiment devised by Lewissohn of Berlin:--If -a frog is placed on its back, it immediately, when the hand which had -held it is removed, turns over and escapes. But if the two fore-legs -are tied with a string, the frog, when placed on its back, breathes -heavily but is otherwise quite motionless, and does not make the least -attempt to escape, even when the experimenter tries to move it. 'It -is as though,' say Czermak, describing the experiment as performed -by himself, 'its small amount of reasoning power had been charmed -away, or else that it slept with open eyes. Now I press upon the -cutaneous nerves of the frog, while I loosen and remove the threads -on the fore-legs. Still the animal remains motionless upon its back, -in consequence of some remaining after-effect; at last, however, it -returns to itself, turns over, and quickly escapes.' - -Thus far the idea suggested is that the animal is so affected by the -cutaneous pressure as to suppose itself tied and therefore unable -to move. In other words, this experiment suggests that imagination -acts on animals as on men, only in a different degree. I may cite -here a curious case which I once noticed and have never been able to -understand, though it seems to suggest the influence of imagination on -an animal one would hardly suspect of being at all under the influence -of any but purely physical influences. Hearing a noise as of a cat -leaping down from a pantry window which looked out on an enclosed yard, -I went directly into the yard, and there saw a strange cat running -off with a fish she had stolen. She was at the moment leaping on to -a bin, from the top of which, by another very easy leap, she could -get on to the wall enclosing the yard, and so escape. With the idea -rather of frightening her than of hurting her (does one missile out of -a hundred flung at cats ever hit them?) I threw at the thief a small -piece of wood which I had in my hand at the moment. It struck the -wall above her just as she was going to leap to the top of the wall, -and it fell, without touching her, between her and the wall. To my -surprise, she stood perfectly still, looking at the piece of wood; her -mouth, from which the fish had fallen, remaining open, and her whole -attitude expressing stupid wonder. I make no doubt I could have taken -her prisoner, or struck her heavily, if I had wished, for she made no -effort to escape, until, with a parlour broom which stood by, I pushed -her along the top of the bin towards the wall, when she seemed suddenly -to arouse herself, and leaping to the top of the wall she made off. -My wife witnessed the last scene of this curious little comedy. In -fact, it was chiefly, perhaps, because she pleaded for mercy on 'the -poor thing' that the soft end of the broom alone came into operation; -for, though not altogether agreeing with the Count of Rousillon that -anything can be endured before a cat, I did not at the moment regard -that particular cat with special favour. - -The extension of the neck and depression of the head, in the experiment -with the hen, have no special significance, for Czermak has been able -to produce the same phenomena of hypnotism without them, and has failed -to produce the hypnotic effect on pigeons when attending to this point, -and in other respects proceeding as nearly as possible in the same -way as with hens. 'With the hens,' he says, 'I often hung a piece of -twine, or a small piece of wood, directly over their crests, so that -the end fell before their eyes. The hens not only remained perfectly -motionless, but closed their eyes, and slept with their heads sinking -until they came in contact with the table. Before falling asleep, -the hens' heads can be either pressed down or raised up, and they -will remain in this position as if they were pieces of wax. That is, -however, a symptom of a cataleptic condition, such as is seen in human -beings, under certain pathological conditions of the nervous system.' - -On the other hand, repeated experiments convinced Czermak that the -pressure on the animal as it is held is of primary importance. It -is frequently the case, he says, that a hen, which for a minute has -been in a motionless state, caused by simply extending the neck and -depressing the head, awakes and flies away, but on being caught again -immediately, she can be placed once more in the condition of lethargy, -if we place the animal in a squatting position, and overcome with -gentle force the resistance of the muscles, by firmly placing the hand -upon its back. During the slow and measured suppression, one often -perceives an extremely remarkable position of the head and neck, which -are left entirely free. The head remains as if held by an invisible -hand in its proper place, the neck being stretched out of proportion, -while the body by degrees is pushed downwards. If the animal is thus -left entirely free, it remains for a minute or so in this peculiar -condition with wide-open staring eyes. 'Here,' as Czermak remarks, -'the actual circumstances are only the effect of the emotion which the -nerves of the skin excite, and the gentle force which overcomes the -animal's resistance. Certainly the creature a short time before had -been in a condition of immobility, and might have retained some special -inclination to fall back into the same, although the awakening, flight, -and recapture, together with the refreshment given to the nervous -system, are intermediate circumstances.' Similar experiments are best -made upon small birds. Now, it is well known to bird fanciers that -goldfinches, canary-birds, &c. can be made to remain motionless for -some time by simply holding them firmly for a moment and then letting -them go. 'Here, in my hand,' said Czermak, in his lecture, 'is a timid -bird, just brought from market. If I place it on its back, and hold its -head with my left hand, keeping it still for a few seconds, it will -lie perfectly motionless after I have removed my hands, as if charmed, -breathing heavily, and without making any attempt to change its -position or to fly away.' ('Two of the birds,' says the report, 'were -treated in this manner without effect; but the third, a siskin, fell -into a sleeping condition, and remained completely immovable on its -back, until pushed with a glass tube, when it awoke and flew actively -around the room.') - -Also when a bird is in a sitting position, and the head is pressed -slightly back, the bird falls into a sleeping condition, even though -the eyes had been open. 'I have often noticed,' says Czermak, 'that the -birds under these circumstances close their eyes for a few minutes or -even a quarter of an hour, and are more or less fast asleep.' - -Lastly, as to the chalk-line in Kircher's experiment. Czermak found, -as already said, that pigeons do not become motionless, as happens to -hens, if merely held firmly in the hand, and their heads and necks -pressed gently on the table. Nor can they be hypnotised like small -birds in the experiment last mentioned. 'That is,' he says, 'I held -them with a thumb placed on each side of the head, which I bent over -a little, while the other hand held the body gently pressed down upon -the table; but even this treatment, which has such an effect on little -birds, did not seem to succeed at first with the pigeons: almost always -they flew away as soon as I liberated them and entirely removed my -hands.' But he presently noticed that the short time during which the -pigeons remained quiet lengthened considerably when the finger only of -the hand which held the head was removed. Removing the hand holding -the body made no difference, but retaining the other hand near the -bird's head, the hand made all the difference in the world. Pursuing -the line of research thus indicated, Czermak found to his astonishment -that the fixing of the pigeon's look on the finger placed before its -eyes was the secret of the matter. In order to determine the question -still more clearly, he tried the experiment on a pigeon which he had -clasped firmly by the body in his left hand, but whose neck and head -were perfectly free. 'I held one finger of my right hand steadily -before the top of its beak,--and what did I see? The first pigeon with -which I made this attempt remained rigid and motionless, as if bound, -for several minutes, before the outstretched forefinger of my right -hand! Yes, I could take my left hand, with which I had held the bird, -and again touch the pigeon without waking it up; the animal remained in -the same position while I held my outstretched finger still pointing -towards the beak.' 'The lecturer,' says the report, 'demonstrated -this experiment in the most successful manner with a pigeon which was -brought to him.' - -Yet it is to be noticed that among animals as among men, different -degrees of subjectivity exist. 'Individual inward relations,' says -Czermak, 'as well as outward conditions, must necessarily exercise some -disturbing influence, whether the animal will give itself up to the -requisite exertions of certain parts of its brain with more or less -inclination or otherwise. We often see, for example, that a pigeon -endeavours to escape from confinement by a quick turning of its head -from side to side. In following these singular and characteristic -movements of the head and neck, with the finger held before the bird, -one either gains his point, or else makes the pigeon so perplexed and -excited that it at last becomes quiet, so that, if it is held firmly -by the body and head, it can be forced gently down upon the table. -As Schopenhauer says of sleeping, "The brain must bite." I will also -mention here, by the way, that a tame parrot, which I have in my house, -can be placed in this sleepy condition by simply holding the finger -steadily before the top of its beak.' - -I may cite here a singular illustration of the effect of perplexity -in the case of a creature in all other respects much more naturally -circumstanced than the hens, pigeons, and small birds of Czermak's -experiments. In the spring of 1859, when I was an undergraduate at -Cambridge, I and a friend of mine were in canoes on the part of the -Cam which flows through the College grounds. Here there are many ducks -and a few swans. It occurred to us, not, I fear, from any special -scientific spirit, but as a matter of curiosity, to inquire whether it -was possible to pass over a duck in a canoe. Of course on the approach -of either canoe a duck would try to get out of the way on one side or -the other; but on the course of the canoe being rapidly changed, the -duck would have to change his course. Then the canoe's course would -again be changed, so as to compel the duck to try the other side. The -canoe drawing all the time nearer, and her changes of course being made -very lightly and in quicker and quicker alternation as she approached, -the duck would generally get bewildered, and finally would allow the -canoe to pass over him, gently pressing him under water in its course. -The process, in fact, was a sort of mild keelhauling. The absolute -rigidity of body and the dull stupid stare with which some of the -ducks met their fate seems to me (_now_: I was not in 1859 familiar -with the phenomena of hypnotism) to suggest that the effect was to be -explained as Czermak explains the hypnotism of the pigeons on which he -experimented. - -We shall be better able now to understand the phenomena of artificial -somnambulism in the case of human beings. If the circumstances observed -by Kircher, Czermak, Lewissohn, and others, suggest, as I think they -do, that animal hypnotism is a form of the phenomenon sometimes called -fascination, we may be led to regard the possibility of artificial -somnambulism in men as a survival of a property playing in all -probability an important and valuable part in the economy of animal -life. It is in this direction, at present, that the evidence seems to -tend. - -The most remarkable circumstance about the completely hypnotised -subject is the seemingly complete control of the will of the 'subject' -and even of his opinions. Even the mere suggestions of the operator, -not expressed verbally or by signs, but by movements imparted to the -body of the subject, are at once responded to, as though, to use Dr. -Garth Wilkinson's expression, the _whole man_ were given to each -perception. Thus, 'if the hand be placed,' says Dr. Carpenter, 'upon -the top of the head, the somnambulist will frequently, of his own -accord, draw up his body to its fullest height, and throw his head -slightly back; his countenance then assumes an expression of the -most lofty pride, and his whole mind is obviously possessed by that -feeling. When the first action does not of itself call forth the rest, -it is sufficient for the operator to straighten the legs and spine, -and to throw the head somewhat back, to arouse that feeling and the -corresponding expression to its fullest intensity. During the most -complete domination of this emotion, let the head be bent forward, -and the body and limbs gently flexed; and the most profound humility -then instantaneously takes its place.' Of course in some cases we may -well believe that the expressions thus described by Dr. Carpenter have -been simulated by the subject. But there can be no reason to doubt -the reality of the operator's control in many cases. Dr. Carpenter -says that he has not only been an eye-witness of them on various -occasions, but that he places full reliance on the testimony of an -intelligent friend, who submitted himself to Mr. Braid's manipulations, -but retained sufficient self-consciousness and voluntary power to -endeavour to exercise some resistance to their influence at the time, -and subsequently to retrace his course of thought and feeling. 'This -gentleman declares,' says Dr. Carpenter, 'that, although accustomed -to the study of character and to self-observation, he could not -have conceived that the whole mental state should have undergone so -instantaneous and complete a metamorphosis, as he remembers it to -have done, when his head and body were bent forward in the attitude -of humility, after having been drawn to their full height in that of -self-esteem.' - -A most graphic description of the phenomena of hypnotism is given by -Dr. Garth Wilkinson:--'The preliminary state is that of abstraction, -produced by fixed gaze upon some unexciting and empty thing (for -poverty of object engenders abstraction), and this abstraction is the -logical premiss of what follows. Abstraction tends to become more and -more abstract, narrower and narrower; it tends to unity and afterwards -to nullity. There, then, the patient is, at the summit of attention, -with no object left, a mere statue of attention, a listening, expectant -life; a perfectly undistracted faculty, dreaming of a lessening and -lessening mathematical point: the end of his mind sharpened away to -nothing. What happens? Any sensation that appeals is met by this -brilliant attention, and receives its diamond glare; being perceived -with a force of leisure of which our distracted life affords only the -rudiments. External influences are sensated, sympathised with, to an -extraordinary degree; harmonious music sways the body into graces the -most affecting; discords jars it, as though they would tear it limb -from limb. Cold and heat are perceived with similar exaltation; so -also smells and touches. In short, _the whole man appears to be given -to each perception_. The body trembles like down with the wafts of the -atmosphere; the world plays upon it as upon a spiritual instrument -finely attuned.' - -This state, which may be called the natural hypnotic state, may be -artificially modified. 'The power of suggestion over the patient,' says -Dr. Garth Wilkinson, 'is excessive. If you say, "What animal is it?" -the patient will tell you it is a lamb, or a rabbit, or any other. -"Does he see it?" "Yes." "What animal is it _now_?" putting depth and -gloom into the tone of _now_, and thereby suggesting a difference. -"Oh!" with a shudder, "it is a wolf!" "What colour is it?" still -glooming the phrase. "Black." "What colour is it now?" giving the _now_ -a cheerful air. "Oh! a beautiful blue!" (rather an unusual colour for a -wolf, I would suggest), spoken with the utmost delight (and no wonder! -especially if the hypnotic subject were a naturalist). And so you lead -the subject through any dreams you please, by variations of questions -and of inflections of the voice! and _he sees and feels all as real_.' - -We have seen how the patient's mind can be influenced by changing the -posture of his body. Dr. Wilkinson gives very remarkable evidence on -this point. 'Double his fist and pull up his arm, if you dare,' he -says, of the subject, 'for you will have the strength of your ribs -rudely tested. Put him on his knees and clasp his hands, and the -saints and devotees of the artists will pale before the trueness of his -devout actings. Raise his head while in prayer, and his lips pour forth -exulting glorifications, as he sees heaven opened, and the majesty of -God raising him to his place; then in a moment depress the head, and he -is in dust and ashes, an unworthy sinner, with the pit of hell yawning -at his feet. Or compress the forehead, so as to wrinkle it vertically, -and thorny-toothed clouds contract in from the very horizon' (in the -subject's imagination, it will be understood); 'and what is remarkable, -the smallest pinch and wrinkle, such as will lie between your nipping -nails, is sufficient nucleus to crystallise the man into that shape, -and to make him all foreboding, as, again, the smallest expansion in a -moment brings the opposite state, with a full breathing of delight.' - -Some will perhaps think the next instance the most remarkable of all, -perfectly natural though one half of the performance may have been. The -subject being a young lady, the operator asks whether she or another -is the prettier, raising her head as he puts the question. 'Observe,' -says Dr. Wilkinson, 'the inexpressible hauteur, and the puff sneers let -off from the lips' (see Darwin's treatise on the 'Expression of the -Emotions,' plate IV. i, and plate V. i) 'which indicate a conclusion -too certain to need utterance. Depress the head, and repeat the -question, and mark the self-abasement with which she now says "_She -is_," as hardly worthy to make the comparison.' - -In this state, in fact, 'whatever posture of any passion is induced, -the passion comes into it at once, and dramatises the body accordingly.' - -It might seem that there must of necessity be some degree of -exaggeration in this description, simply because the power of -adequately expressing any given emotion is not possessed by all. Some -can in a moment bring any expression into the face, or even simulate -at once the expression and the aspect of another person, while many -persons, probably most, possess scarcely any power of the sort, and -fail ridiculously even in attempting to reproduce the expressions -corresponding to the commonest emotions. But it is abundantly clear -that the hypnotised subject possesses for the time being abnormal -powers. No doubt this is due to the circumstance that for the time -being 'the whole man is given to each perception.' The stories -illustrative of this peculiarity of the hypnotised state are so -remarkable that they have been rejected as utterly incredible by many -who are not acquainted with the amount of evidence we have upon this -point. - -The instances above cited by Dr. Garth Wilkinson, remarkable though -they may be, are surpassed altogether in interest by a case which -Dr. Carpenter mentions,--of a factory girl, whose musical powers had -received little cultivation, and who could scarcely speak her own -language correctly, who nevertheless exactly imitated both the words -and the music of vocal performances by Jenny Lind. Dr. Carpenter was -assured by witnesses in whom he could place implicit reliance, that -this girl, in the hypnotised state, followed the Swedish nightingale's -songs in different languages 'so instantaneously and correctly, as to -both words and music, that it was difficult to distinguish the two -voices. In order to test the powers of the somnambulist to the utmost, -Mademoiselle Lind extemporised a long and elaborate chromatic exercise, -which the girl imitated with no less precision, though in her waking -state she durst not even attempt anything of the sort.' - -The exaltation of the senses of hypnotised subjects is an equally -wonderful phenomenon. Dr. Carpenter relates many very remarkable -instances as occurring within his own experience. He has 'known a -youth, in the hypnotised state,' he says, 'to find out, by the sense of -smell, the owner of a glove which was placed in his hand, from amongst -a party of more than sixty persons, scenting at each of them one after -the other until he came to the right individual. In another case, the -owner of a ring was unhesitatingly found out from amongst a company -of twelve, the ring having been withdrawn from the finger before the -somnambule was introduced.' The sense of touch has, in other cases, -been singularly intensified, insomuch that slight differences of heat, -which to ordinary feeling were quite inappreciable, would be at once -detected, while such differences as can be but just perceived in the -ordinary state would produce intense distress. - -In some respects, the increase of muscular power, or rather of the -power of special muscles, is even more striking, because it is commonly -supposed by most persons that the muscular power depends entirely on -the size and quality of the muscles, the state of health, and like -conditions, not on the imagination. Of course every one knows that the -muscles are capable of greater efforts when the mind is much excited -by fear and other emotions. But the general idea is, I think, that -whatever the body is capable of doing under circumstances of great -excitement, it is in reality capable of doing at all times if only -a resolute effort is made. Nor is it commonly supposed that a very -wide difference exists between the greatest efforts of the body under -excitement and those of which it is ordinarily capable. Now, the -condition of the hypnotised subject is certainly not one of excitement. -The attempts which he is directed to make are influenced only by the -idea that he _can_ do what he is told, not that he _must_ do so. When a -man pursued by a bull leaps over a wall which under ordinary conditions -he would not even think of climbing, we can understand that he only -does, because he must, what if he liked he could do at any time. But -if a man who had been making his best efforts in jumping, cleared -only a height of four feet, and presently being told to jump over an -eight-feet wall, cleared that height with apparent ease, we should be -disposed to regard the feat as savouring of the miraculous. - -Now Dr. Carpenter saw one of Mr. Braid's hypnotised subjects--a man so -remarkable for the poverty of his physical development that he had not -for many years ventured to lift up a weight of twenty pounds in his -ordinary state--take up a quarter of a hundredweight upon his little -finger, and swing it round his head with the utmost apparent ease, on -being told that it was as light as a feather. 'On another occasion -he lifted a half-hundredweight on the last joint of his forefinger -as high as his knee.' The personal character of the man placed him -above all suspicion of deceit, in the opinion of those who best knew -him; and as Dr. Carpenter acutely remarks, 'the impossibility of any -trickery in such a case would be evident to the educated eye, since, -if he had practised such feats (which very few, even of the strongest -men could accomplish without practice), the effect would have made -itself visible in his muscular development.' 'Consequently,' he adds, -'when the same individual afterwards declared himself unable, with the -greatest effort, to lift a handkerchief from the table, after having -been assured that he could not possibly move it, there was no reason -for questioning the truth of his conviction, based as this was upon -the same kind of suggestion as that by which he had been just before -prompted to what seemed an otherwise impossible action.' - -The explanation of this and the preceding cases cannot be mistaken by -physiologists, and is very important in its bearing on the phenomena -of hypnotism generally, at once involving an interpretation of the -whole series of phenomena, and suggesting other relations not as yet -illustrated experimentally. It is well known that in our ordinary use -of any muscles we employ but a small part of the muscle at any given -moment. What the muscle is actually capable of is shown in convulsive -contractions, in which far more force is put forth than the strongest -effort of the will could call into play. We explain, then, the seeming -increase of strength in any set of muscles during the hypnotic state as -due to the concentration of the subject's will in an abnormal manner, -or to an abnormal degree, on that set of muscles. In a similar way, -the great increase of certain powers of perception may be explained -as due to the concentration of the will upon the corresponding parts -of the nervous system. In like manner, the will may be directed so -entirely to the operations necessary for the performances of difficult -feats, that the hypnotised or somnambulistic subject may be able to -accomplish what in his ordinary condition would be impossible or -even utterly appalling to him. Thus sleep-walkers (whose condition -precisely resembles that of the artificially hypnotised, except that -the suggestions they experience come from contact with inanimate -objects, instead of being aroused by the actions of another person) -'can clamber walls and roofs, traverse narrow planks, step firmly along -high parapets, and perform other feats which they would shrink from -attempting in their waking state.' This is simply, as Dr. Carpenter -points out, because they are _not distracted_ by the sense of danger -which their vision would call up, from concentrating their exclusive -attention on the guidance afforded by their muscular sense.' - -But the most remarkable and suggestive of all the facts known -respecting hypnotism is the influence which can by its means be -brought to bear upon special parts or functions of the body. We know -that imagination will hasten or retard certain processes commonly -regarded as involuntary (indeed, the influence of imagination is itself -in great degree involuntary). We know further that in some cases -imagination will do much more than this, as in the familiar cases of -the disappearance of warts under the supposed influence of charms, -the cure of scrofula at a touch, and hundreds of well-attested cases -of so-called miraculous cures. But although the actual cases of the -curative influence obtained over hypnotised patients may not be in -reality more striking than some of these, yet they are more suggestive -at any rate to ordinary minds, because they are known not to be the -result of any charm or miraculous interference, but to be due to simply -natural processes initiated by natural though unfamiliar means. - -Take, for instance, such a case as the following, related by Dr. -Carpenter (who has himself witnessed many remarkable cases of -hypnotic cure):--'A female relative of Mr. Braid's was the subject -of a severe rheumatic fever, during the course of which the left eye -became seriously implicated, so that after the inflammatory action -had passed away, there was an opacity over more than one half of the -cornea, which not only prevented distinct vision, but occasioned -an annoying disfigurement. Having placed herself under Mr. Braid's -hypnotic treatment for the relief of violent pain in her arm and -shoulder, she found, to the surprise alike of herself and Mr. Braid, -that her sight began to improve very perceptibly. The operation was -therefore continued daily; and in a very short time the cornea became -so transparent that close inspection was required to discover any -remains of the opacity.' On this, Carpenter remarks that he has known -other cases in which secretions that had been morbidly suspended have -been reinduced by this process; and is satisfied that, if applied -with skill and discrimination, it would take rank as one of the most -potent methods of treatment which the physician has at his command. He -adds that 'the channel of influence is obviously the system of nerves -which regulates the secretions--nerves which, though not under direct -subjection to the will, are peculiarly affected by emotional states.' - -I may remark, in passing, that nerves which are not ordinarily under -the influence of the will, but whose office would be to direct muscular -movements if only the will could influence them, may by persistent -attention become obedient to the will. When I was last in New York, -I met a gentleman who gave me a long and most interesting account -of certain experiments which he had made on himself. The account -was not forced on me, the reader must understand, but was elicited -by questions suggested by one or two remarkable facts which he had -casually mentioned as falling within his experience. I had only his -own word for much that he told me, and some may perhaps consider that -there was very little truth in the narrative. I may pause here to make -some remarks by the way, on the traits of truthful and untruthful -persons. I believe very slight powers of observation are necessary to -detect want of veracity in any man, though absence of veracity in any -particular story may not be easily detected or established. I am not -one of those who believe every story they hear, and trust in every one -they meet. But I have noticed one or two features by which the habitual -teller of untruths may be detected very readily, as may also one who, -without telling actual falsehoods, tries to heighten the effect of -any story he may have to tell, by strengthening all the particulars. -My experience in this respect is unlike Dickens's, who believed, and -indeed found, that a man whom on first seeing he distrusted, and -justly, could explain away the unfavourable impression. 'My first -impression,' he says, 'about such people, founded on face and manner -alone, was invariably true; my mistake was in suffering them to come -nearer to me and explain themselves away.' I have found it otherwise; -though of course Dickens was right about his own experience: the matter -depends entirely on the idiosyncrasies of the observer. I have often -been deceived by face and expression: never, to the best of my belief -(and belief in this case is not mere opinion, but is based on results), -by manner of speaking. One peculiarity I have never found wanting in -habitually mendacious persons--a certain intonation which I cannot -describe, but recognise in a moment, suggestive of the weighing of each -sentence as it is being uttered, as though to consider how it would -tell. Another, is a peculiarity of manner, but it only shows itself -during speech; it is a sort of watchfulness often disguised under a -careless tone, but perfectly recognisable however disguised. Now, the -gentleman who gave me the experience I am about to relate, conveyed to -my mind, by every intonation of his voice and every peculiarity and -change of manner, the idea of truthfulness. I cannot convey to others -the impression thus conveyed to myself: nor do I expect that others -will share my own confidence: I simply state the case as I know it, -and as far as I know it. It will, however, be seen that a part of the -evidence was confirmed on the spot. - -The conversation turned on the curability of consumption. My -informant, whom I will henceforth call A., said that, though he could -not assert from experience that consumption was curable, he believed -that in many cases where the tendency to consumption is inherited, -and the consumptive constitution indicated so manifestly that under -ordinary conditions the person would before long be hopelessly -consumptive, an entire change may be made in the condition of the body, -and the person become strong and healthy. He said: 'I belong myself -to a family many of whose members have died of consumption. My father -and mother both died of it, and all my brothers and sisters save one -brother; yet I do not look consumptive, do I?' and certainly he did -not. He then took from a pocket-book a portrait of his brother, showing -a young man manifestly in very bad health, looking worn, weary, and -emaciated. From the same pocket-book A. then took another portrait, -asking if I recognised it. I saw here again a worn and emaciated face -and figure. The picture was utterly unlike the hearty well-built man -before me, yet it manifestly represented no other. If I had been at all -doubtful, my doubts would have been removed by certain peculiarities -to which A. called my attention. I asked how the change in his health -had been brought about. He told me a very remarkable story of his -treatment of himself, part of which I omit because I am satisfied he -was mistaken in attributing to that portion of his self-treatment -any part of the good result which he had obtained, and that if many -consumptive patients adopted the remedy, a large proportion, if not -all, would inevitably succumb very quickly. The other portion of his -account is all that concerns us here, being all that illustrates our -present subject. He said: 'I determined to exercise every muscle of my -body; I set myself in front of a mirror and concentrated my attention -and all the power of my will on the muscle or set of muscles I proposed -to bring into action. Then I exercised those muscles in every way I -could think of, continuing the process till I had used in succession -every muscle over which the will has control. While carrying out this -system, I noticed that gradually the will acquired power over muscles -which before I had been quite unable to move. I may say, indeed, that -every set of muscles recognised by anatomists, except those belonging -to internal organs, gradually came under the control of my will.' Here -I interrupted, asking (not by any means as doubting his veracity, for -I did not): 'Can you do what Dundreary said he thought some fellow -might be able to do? can you waggle your left ear?' 'Why, certainly,' -he replied; and turning the left side of his head towards me, he moved -his left ear about; not, it is true, waggling it, but drawing it up and -down in a singular way, which was, he said, the only exercise he ever -gave it. He said, on this, that there are many other muscles over which -the will has ordinarily no control, but may be made to obtain control; -and forthwith, drawing the cloth of his trousers rather tight round -the right thigh (so that the movement he was about to show might be -discernible) he made in succession the three muscles of the front and -inner side of the thigh rise about half an inch along some nine or ten -inches of their length. Now, though these muscles are among those which -are governed by the will, for they are used in a variety of movements, -yet not one in ten thousand, perhaps in a million, can move them in the -way described. - -How far A.'s system of exciting the muscles individually as well as in -groups may have operated in improving his health, as he supposed, I am -not now inquiring. What I wish specially to notice is the influence -which the will may be made to obtain over muscles ordinarily beyond -its control. It may be that under the exceptional influence of the -imagination, in the hypnotic condition, the will obtains a similar -control for a while over even those parts of the nervous system which -appertain to the so-called involuntary processes. In other words, -the case I have cited may be regarded as occupying a sort of middle -position between ordinary cases of muscular action and those perplexing -cases in which the hypnotic subject seems able to influence pulsation, -circulation, and processes of secretion in the various parts or organs -of his body. - -It must be noted, however, that the phenomena of hypnotism are due -solely to the influence of the imagination. The quasi-scientific -explanations which attributed them to magnetism, electricity, some -subtle animal fluid, some occult force, and so forth, have been as -completely negatived as the supernatural explanation. We have seen that -painted wooden tractors were as effectual as the metal tractors of the -earlier mesmerists; a small disc of card or wood is as effective as -the disc of zinc and copper used by the electro-biologists; and now -it appears that the mystical influence, or what was thought such, of -the operator is no more essential to success than magnetic or electric -apparatus. - -Dr. Noble of Manchester made several experiments to determine this -point. Some among them seem absolutely decisive. - -Thus, a friend of Dr. Noble's had a female servant whom he had -frequently thrown into the hypnotic state, trying a variety of -experiments, many of which Dr. Noble had witnessed. Dr. Noble was at -length told that his friend had succeeded in magnetising her from -another room and without her knowledge, with some other stories even -more marvellous, circumstantially related by eye-witnesses, 'amongst -others by the medical attendant of the family, a most respectable and -intelligent friend' of Dr. Noble's own. As he remained unsatisfied, Dr. -Noble was invited to come and judge for himself, proposing whatever -test he pleased. 'Now had we visited the house,' he says, 'we should -have felt dissatisfied with any result,' knowing 'that the presence -of a visitor or the occurrence of anything unusual was sure to excite -expectation of some mesmeric process.' 'We therefore proposed,' -he proceeds, 'that the experiment should be carried on at our own -residence; and it was made under the following circumstances:--The -gentleman early one evening wrote a note as if on business, -directing it to ourselves. He thereupon summoned the female servant -(the mesmeric subject), requesting her to convey the note to its -destination, and to wait for an answer. The gentleman himself, in her -hearing, ordered a cab, stating that if anyone called he was going to -a place named, but was expected to return by a certain hour. Whilst -the female servant was dressing for her errand, the master placed -himself in the vehicle and rapidly arrived at our dwelling. In about -ten minutes after the note arrived, the gentleman in the meantime -being secreted in an adjoining apartment, we requested the young woman -who had been shown into our study, to take a seat whilst we wrote the -answer; at the same time placing the chair with its back to the door -leading into the next room which was left ajar. It had been agreed -that after the admission of the girl into the place where we were, the -magnetiser, approaching the door in silence on the other side, should -commence operations. There, then, was the patient or "subject" placed -within two feet of her magnetiser, a door only intervening, and that -but partially closed; but she, all the while, perfectly free from all -idea of what was going on. We were careful to avoid any unnecessary -conversation with the girl, or even to look towards her, lest we -should raise some suspicion in her own mind. We wrote our letter (as -if in answer) for nearly a quarter of an hour, once or twice only -making an indifferent remark, and on leaving the room for a light to -seal the supposed letter, we beckoned the operator away. No effect -whatever had been produced, although we had been told that two or three -minutes were sufficient, even when mesmerising from the drawing-room, -through walls and apartments, into the kitchen. In our own experiment -the intervening distance had been very much less, and only one solid -substance intervened, and that not completely; but here we suspect was -the difference--_the "subject" was unconscious of the magnetism and -expected nothing_.' - -In another case Dr. Noble tried the converse experiment with equally -convincing results. Being in company one evening with a young lady -said to be of high mesmeric susceptibility, he requested and -received permission to test this quality in her. In one of the usual -ways he 'magnetised' her, and having so far satisfied himself, he -'demagnetised' her. He next proceeded to 'hypnotise' her, adopting Mr. -Braid's method of directing the stare at a fixed point. 'The result -varied in no respect from that which had taken place in the foregoing -experiment; the duration of the process was the same, and its intensity -of effect neither greater nor less.' 'De-hypnotisation' again restored -the young lady to herself. 'And now,' says Dr. Noble, 'we requested -our patient to rest quietly at the fire-place, to think of just what -she liked, and to look where she pleased, excepting at ourselves, -who retreated behind her chair, saying that a new mode was about to -be tried, and that her turning round would disturb the process. We -very composedly took up a volume which lay upon a table, and amused -ourselves with it for about five minutes, when on raising our eyes, we -could see by the excited features of other members of the party that -the young lady was once more _magnetised_. We were informed by those -who had attentively watched her during the progress of our little -experiment, that all had been in every respect just as before. The lady -herself, before she was undeceived, expressed a distinct consciousness -of having _felt our unseen passes streaming down the neck_.' - -In a similar way, Mr. Bertrand, who was the first (Dr. Carpenter tells -us) to undertake a really scientific investigation of the phenomena -of mesmerism, proved that the supposed effect of a magnetised letter -from him to a female somnambule was entirely the work of her own lively -imagination. He magnetised a letter first, which on receipt was placed -at his suggestion upon the epigastrium of the patient, who was thrown -into the magnetic sleep with all the customary phenomena. He then wrote -another letter, which he did not magnetise, and again the same effect -was produced. Lastly he set about an experiment which should determine -the real state of the case. 'I asked one of my friends,' he says, 'to -write a few lines in my place, and to strive to imitate my writing, -so that those who should read the letter should mistake it for mine (I -knew he could do so). He did this; our stratagem succeeded, and the -sleep was produced just as it would have been by one of my own letters. - -It is hardly necessary to say, perhaps, that none of the phenomena -of hypnotism require, as indeed none of them, rightly understood, -suggest, the action of any such occult forces as spiritualists believe -in. On the other hand, I believe that many of the phenomena recorded -by spiritualists as having occurred under their actual observation -are very readily to be explained as phenomena of hypnotism. Of course -I would not for a moment deny that in the great majority of cases -much grosser forms of deception are employed. But in others, and -especially in those where the concentration of the attention for some -time is a necessary preliminary to the exhibition of the phenomena -(which suitable 'subjects' only are privileged to see), I consider the -resulting self-deception as hypnotic. - -We may regard the phenomena of hypnotism in two aspects--first and -chiefly as illustrating the influence of imagination on the functions -of the body; secondly, as showing under what conditions the imagination -may be most readily brought to bear in producing such influence. These -phenomena deserve far closer and at the same time far wider attention -than they have yet received. Doubt has been thrown upon them because -they have been associated with false theories, and in many cases with -fraud and delusion. But, rightly viewed, they are at once instructive -and valuable. On the one hand they throw light on some of the most -interesting problems of mental physiology; on the other they promise to -afford valuable means of curing certain ailments, and of influencing -in useful ways certain powers and functions of the body. All that is -necessary, it should seem, to give hypnotic researches their full -value, is that all association of these purely mental phenomena with -charlatanry and fraud should be abruptly and definitely broken off. -Those who make practical application of the phenomena of hypnotism -should not only divest their own minds of all idea that some occult -and as it were extra-natural force is at work, but should encourage no -belief in such force in those on whom the hypnotic method is employed. -Their influence on the patient will not be lessened, I believe, by the -fullest knowledge on the patient's part that all which is to happen to -him is purely natural--that, in fact, advantage is simply to be taken -of an observed property of the imagination to obtain an influence not -otherwise attainable over the body as a whole (as when the so-called -magnetic sleep is to be produced), or over special parts of the body. -Whether advantage might not be taken of other than the curative -influences of hypnotism is a question which will probably have occurred -to some who may have followed the curious accounts given in the -preceding pages. If special powers may be obtained, even for a short -time, by the hypnotised subject, these powers might be systematically -used for other purposes than mere experiment. If, again, the repetition -of hypnotic curative processes eventually leads to a complete and -lasting change in the condition of certain parts or organs of the body, -the repetition of the exercise of special powers during the hypnotic -state may after a while lead to the definite acquisition of such -powers. As it now appears that the hypnotic control may be obtained -without any effort on the part of the operator, the effort formerly -supposed to be required being purely imaginary and the hypnotic state -being in fact readily attainable without any operation whatever, we -seem to recognise possibilities which, duly developed, might be found -of extreme value to the human race. In fine, it would seem that man -possesses a power which has hitherto lain almost entirely dormant, by -which, under the influence of properly-guided imagination, the will -can be so concentrated on special actions that feats of strength, -dexterity, artistic (and even perhaps scientific) skill may be -accomplished by persons who, in the ordinary state, are quite incapable -of such achievements. - - - - -_HEREDITARY TRAITS._ - - -In Montaigne's well-known essay on the 'Resemblance of Children to -their Fathers,' the philosopher of Périgord remarks that 'there is -a certain sort of crafty humility that springs from presumption; as -this, for example, that we confess our ignorance in many things, and -are so courteous as to acknowledge that there are in works of nature -some qualities and conditions that are imperceptible to us, and of -which our understanding cannot discern the means and causes; by which -honest declaration we hope to obtain that people shall also believe -us of those that we say we do understand.' 'We need not trouble -ourselves,' he goes on, 'to seek out miracles and strange difficulties; -methinks there are such incomprehensible wonders amongst the things -that we ordinarily see as surpass all difficulties of miracles.' He -applies these remarks to inherited peculiarities of feature, figure, -character, constitution, habits, and so forth. And certainly few of -the phenomena of nature are more wonderful than these, in the sense of -being less obviously referable to any cause which seems competent to -produce them. Many of those natural phenomena which are regarded as -most striking are in this respect not to be compared with the known -phenomena of heredity. The motions of the planets can all be referred -to regular laws; chemical changes are systematic, and their sequence at -least is understood; the phenomena of heat, light, and electricity are -gradually finding interpretation. It is true that all these phenomena -become in a sense as miracles when we endeavour to ascertain their -real cause. In their case we can ascertain the 'how,' but in no sense -the 'why.' Gravity is a mastery of mysteries to the astronomer, and -has almost compelled us to believe in that 'action at a distance' -which Newton asserted to be unimaginable by anyone with a competent -power of reasoning about things philosophical. The ultimate cause of -chemical changes is as great a mystery now as it was when the four -elements were believed in. And the nature of the ether itself in which -the undulations of heat, light, and electricity are transmitted is -utterly mysterious even to those students of science who have been most -successful in determining the laws according to which those undulations -proceed. But the phenomena themselves being at once referable (in -our own time at least) to law, have no longer the mysterious and in -a sense miraculous character recognised in them before the laws of -motion, of chemical affinity, of light and heat and electricity, had -been ascertained. It is quite otherwise with the phenomena of heredity. -We know nothing even of the proximate cause of any single phenomenon; -far less of that ultimate cause in which all these phenomena had their -origin. The inheritance of a trait of bodily figure, character, or -manner is a mystery as great as that other and cognate mystery, the -appearance of some seemingly sudden variation in a race which has -for many generations presented an apparently unvarying succession of -attributes, bodily, physical, or mental. - -It need hardly be said that this would not be the place for the -discussion of the problems of heredity and variation, even if in the -present position of science we could hope for any profitable result -from the investigation of either subject. But some of the curious facts -which have been noted by various students of heredity will, I think, -be found interesting; and though not suggesting in the remotest degree -any solution of the real difficulties of the subject, they may afford -some indication of the laws according to which parental traits are -inherited, or seemingly sudden variations introduced. - -The commonest, and therefore the least interesting, though perhaps the -most instructive of the phenomena of heredity, are those affecting -the features and the outward configuration of the body. These have -been recognised in all ages and among all nations. A portion of the -Jewish system of legislature was based on a recognition of the law that -children inherit the bodily qualities of the parents. The Greeks noted -the same fact. Among the Spartans, indeed, a system of selection from -among new-born children prevailed, which, though probably intended -only to eliminate the weaker individuals, corresponded closely to -what would be done by a nation having full belief in the efficacy -of both natural and artificial selection, and not troubled with any -strong scruples as to the method of applying their doctrines on such -matters. Among the Romans we find certain families described by their -physical characteristics, as the _Nasones_ or Big-nosed, the _Labeones_ -or Thick-lipped, the _Capitones_ or Big-headed, the _Buccones_ or -Swollen-cheeked. In more recent times similar traits have been -recognised in various families. The Austrian lip and the Bourbon nose -are well-known instances.[15] - -Peculiarities of structure have a double interest, as illustrating both -variation and persistence. We usually find them introduced without any -apparent cause into a family, and afterwards they remain as hereditary -traits, first inherited regularly, then intermittently, and eventually, -in most cases, dying out or becoming so exceptional that their -occurrence is not regarded as an hereditary peculiarity. Montaigne -mentions that in the family of Lepidus, at Rome, there were three, not -successively but by intervals, that were born with the same eye covered -with a cartilage. At Thebes there was a family almost every member of -which had the crown of the head pointed like a lance-head; all whose -heads were not so formed being regarded as illegitimate. A better -authenticated case is that of the Lambert family. The peculiarity -affecting this family appeared first in the person of Edward Lambert, -whose whole body, except the face, the palms of the hands, and the -soles of the feet, was covered with a sort of shell consisting of -horny excrescences. He was the father of six children, all of whom, -so soon as they had reached the age of six weeks, presented the same -peculiarity. Only one of them lived. He married, and transmitted the -peculiarity to all his sons. For five generations all the male members -of the Lambert family were distinguished by the horny excrescences -which had adorned the body of Edward Lambert. - -A remarkable instance of the transmission of anomalous characteristics -is found in the case of Andrian Jeftichjew, who, three or four years -ago, was exhibited with his son Fedor Jeftichjew in Berlin and Paris. -They were called in Paris _les hommes-chiens_, or dog-men, the father's -face being so covered with hair as to present a striking resemblance to -the face of a Skye terrier. Andrian was thus described:--'He is about -fifty-five years of age, and is said to have been the son of a Russian -soldier. In order to escape the derision and the unkind usage of his -fellow-villagers, Andrian in early life fled to the woods, where for -some time he lived in a cave. - -During this period of seclusion he was much given to drunkenness. His -mental condition does not seem to have suffered, however, and he is -on the whole of a kindly and affectionate disposition. It may be of -interest to state that he is an orthodox member of the Russo-Greek -Church, and that, degraded as he is intellectually, he has very -definite notions about heaven and the hereafter. He hopes to introduce -his frightful countenance into the court of heaven, and he devotes all -the money he makes, over and above his outlay for creature comforts, -to purchasing the prayers of a devout community of monks in his native -village, Kostroma, after his mortal career is ended. He is of medium -stature, but very strongly built. His excessive capillary development -is not true hair, but simply an abnormal growth of the _down_ or fine -hairs which usually cover nearly the entire surface of the human -body. Strictly speaking, he has neither head-hair, beard, moustache, -eyebrows, nor eyelashes, their place being taken by this singular -growth of long silky down. In colour this is of a dirty yellow; it is -about three inches in length all over the face, and feels like the hair -of a Newfoundland dog. The very eyelids are covered with this long -hair, while flowing locks come out of his nostrils and ears. On his -body are isolated patches, strewed but not thickly with hairs one and -a half to two inches long.' Dr. Bertillon, of Paris, compared a hair -from Andrian's chin with a very fine hair from a man's beard, and found -that the latter was three times as thick as the former; and a hair from -Andrian's head is only one-half as thick as an average human hair. -Professor Virchow, of Berlin, made careful inquiry into the family -history of Andrian Jeftichjew. So far as could be learned, Andrian was -the first in whom this wonderful hirsuteness had been noticed. Neither -his reputed father nor his mother presented any peculiarity of the -kind, and a brother and sister of his, who are still living, are in -no way remarkable for capillary development. The son Fedor, who was -exhibited in company with Andrian, was illegitimate, and about three -years of age. Andrian's legitimate children, a son and a daughter, both -died young. Nothing is known of the former; but the daughter resembled -the father. 'Fedor is a sprightly child,' said the account from which -we have already quoted, 'and appears more intelligent than the father.' -The growth of down on his face is not so heavy as to conceal his -features, but there is no doubt that when the child comes to maturity -he will be at least as hirsute as his parent The hairs are as white -and as soft as the fur of the Angora cat, and are longest at the outer -angles of the eyes. There is a thick tuft between the eyes, and the -nose is well covered. The moustache joins the whiskers on each side, -after the English fashion, and this circumstance gives to accurate -pictures of the child a ludicrous resemblance to a well-fed Englishman -of about fifty. As in the father's case, the inside of Fedor's nostrils -and ears has a thick crop of hair.' 'Both father and son are almost -toothless, Andrian having only five teeth, one in the upper jaw and -four in the lower, while the child has only four teeth, all in the -lower jaw. In both cases the four lower teeth are all incisors. To -the right of Andrian's one upper tooth there still remains the mark -of another which has disappeared. That beyond these six teeth the man -never had any others is evident to anyone who feels the gums with the -finger.' - -The deficiency of teeth, accompanied as it is by what is in reality a -deficiency not a redundancy of hair--for Andrian and his son have no -real hair--accords well with Darwin's view, that a constant correlation -exists between hair and teeth. He mentions as an illustration the -deficiency of teeth in hairless dogs. The tusks of the boar, again, are -greatly reduced under domestication, and the reduction is accompanied -by a corresponding diminution of the bristles. He mentions also the -case of Julia Pastrana, a Spanish dancer or opera singer, who had a -thick masculine beard and a hairy forehead, while her teeth were so -redundant that her mouth projected, and her face had a gorilla-like -appearance. It should rather be said that in general those creatures -which present an abnormal development in the covering of their skin, -whether in the way of redundancy or deficiency, present, generally, -perhaps always, an abnormal dental development, as we see in sloths and -armadilloes on the one hand, which have the front teeth deficient, and -in some branches of the whale family on the other, in which the teeth -are redundant either in number or in size. In individual members of the -human family it certainly is not always the case that the development -of the hair and that of the teeth are directly correlated; for some -who are bald when quite young have excellent teeth, and some who have -lost most of their teeth while still on the right side of forty have -excellent hair to an advanced age.[16] - -Another case, somewhat similar to that of Andrian and his son, is found -in a Burmese family, living at Ava, and first described by Crawford in -1829. Shwe-Maong, the head of the family, was about thirty years old. -His whole body was covered with silky hairs, which attained a length of -nearly five inches on the shoulders and spine. He had four daughters, -but only one of them resembled him. She was living at Ava in 1855, and, -according to the account given by a British officer who saw her there, -she had a son who was hairy like his grandfather, Shwe-Maong. The case -of this family illustrates rather curiously the relation between the -hair and teeth. For Shwe-Maong retained his milk-teeth till he was -twenty years old (when he attained puberty), and they were replaced by -nine teeth only, five in the upper and four in the lower jaw. Eight of -these were incisors, the ninth (in the upper jaw) being a canine tooth. - -Sex-digitism, or the possession of hands and feet with six digits -each, has occurred in several families as a sudden variation from -the normal formation, but after it has appeared has usually been -transmitted for several generations. In the case of the Colburn family -this peculiarity lasted for four generations without interruption, and -still reappears occasionally. In a branch of a well-known Scotch family -sex-digitism--after continuing for three or four generations--has -apparently disappeared; but it still frequently happens that the edge -of the hands on the side of the little finger is partially deformed. - -Hare-lip, albinism, halting, and other peculiarities, commonly reappear -for four or five generations, and are seldom altogether eradicated in -less than ten or twelve. - -The tendency to variation shown in the introduction of these -peculiarities, even though they may have been eventually eradicated, is -worth noticing in its bearing on our views respecting the formation of -new and persistent varieties of the human as of other races. It must be -noticed that in the case of the human race the conditions not only do -not favour the continuance of such varieties, but practically forbid -their persistence. It is otherwise with some varieties, at least, of -domestic animals, insomuch that varieties which present any noteworthy -even though accidentally observed advantage have been made practically -persistent; we say practically, because there seems little reason to -doubt that in every case which has hitherto been observed the normal -type would eventually be reverted to if special pains were not taken to -separate the normal from the abnormal form. - -An excellent illustration of the difference between the human race and -a race of animals under domestication, in this particular respect, is -found in the case of the Kelleia family on the one hand, and that of -the Ancon or Otter sheep on the other. - -The former case is described by Réaumur. A Maltese couple named -Kelleia, whose hands and feet were of the ordinary type, had a son -Gratio who had six movable fingers on each hand and six somewhat less -perfect toes on each foot. Gratio Kelleia married a woman possessing -only the ordinary number of fingers and toes. There were four children -of this marriage--Salvator, George, André, and Marie. Salvator had six -fingers and six toes like the father; George and André had each five -fingers and five toes like the mother, but the hands and feet of George -were slightly deformed; Marie had five fingers and five toes, but her -thumbs were slightly deformed. All four children grew up, and married -folk with the ordinary number of fingers and toes. The children of -André alone (who were many) were without exception of the normal type, -like their father. The children of Salvator, who alone was six-fingered -and six-toed like Gratio the grandfather, were four in number; three -of them resembled the father, while the other--the youngest--was -of the normal type like his mother and grandmother. As these four -children were the descendants of four grandparents of whom one only was -hexadactylic, we see that the variety had been strong enough in their -case to overcome the normal type in threefold greater strength. But -the strangest part of the story is that relating to George and Marie. -George, who was a pentadactyle, though somewhat deformed about the -hands and feet, was the father of four children: first, two girls, both -purely hexadactylic; next, a girl hexadactylic on the right side of -the body and pentadactylic on the left side; and lastly, a boy, purely -pentadactylic. Marie, a pentadactyle with deformed thumbs, gave birth -to a boy with six toes, and three normally formed children. It will be -seen, however, that the normal type showed itself in greater force than -the variety in the third generation from Gratio: for while one child -of Salvator's, one of George's, three of Marie's, and all of André's -(some seven or eight) were of the normal type--twelve or thirteen -in all--only five, viz., three of Salvator's and two of George's, -presented the variety purely. Three others were more or less abnormally -formed in fingers and toes; but even counting these, the influence of -the variety was shown only in eight of the grandchildren of Gratio, -whereas twelve or thirteen were of the normal type. - -The story of the Ancon or Otter sheep, as narrated by Colonel -David Humphreys in a letter to Sir Joseph Banks, published in the -_Philosophical Transactions_ for 1813, has been thus abridged by -Huxley:--'It appears that one Seth Wright, the proprietor of a farm on -the banks of the Charles River, in Massachusetts, possessed a flock -of fifteen ewes and a ram of the ordinary kind. In the year 1791 one -of the ewes presented her owner with a male lamb differing, for no -assignable reason, from its parents by a disproportionately long body -and short bandy legs; whence it was unable to emulate its relatives in -those sportive leaps over the neighbours' fences in which they were -in the habit of indulging, much to the good farmer's vexation. With -the "cuteness" characteristic of their nation, the neighbours of the -Massachusetts farmer imagined it would be an excellent thing if all -his sheep were imbued with the stay-at-home tendencies enforced by -Nature upon the newly-arrived ram; and they advised Wright to kill -the old patriarch of his fold and instal the new Ancon ram in his -place. The result justified their sagacious anticipations.... The -young lambs were almost always either pure Ancons or pure ordinary -sheep. But when sufficient Ancon sheep were obtained to interbreed -with one another, it was found that the offspring were always pure -Ancon. Colonel Humphreys, in fact, states that he was acquainted with -only "one questionable case of a contrary nature." By taking care to -select Ancons of both sexes for breeding from, it thus became easy to -establish an exceedingly well-marked race--so peculiar that even when -herded with other sheep, it was noted that the Ancons kept together. -And there is every reason to believe that the existence of this breed -might have been indefinitely protracted: but the introduction of the -Merino sheep--which were not only very superior to the Ancons in wool -and meat, but quite as quiet and orderly--led to the complete neglect -of the new breed, so that in 1813 Colonel Humphreys found it difficult -to obtain the specimen whose skeleton was presented to Sir Joseph -Banks. We believe that for many years no remnant of it has existed in -the United States.' - -It is easy, as Huxley remarks, to understand why, whereas Gratio -Kelleia did not become the ancestor of a race of six-figured and -six-toed men, Seth Wright's Ancon ram became a nation of long-bodied, -short-legged sheep. If the purely hexadactylic descendants of Gratio -Kelleia, and all the purely hexadactylic members of the Colburn family, -in the third and fourth generations, had migrated to some desert -island, and had been careful not only to exclude all visitors having -the normal number of fingers and toes, but to send away before the -age of puberty all children of their own which might depart in any -degree from the pure hexadactylic type, there can be no doubt that -under favourable conditions the colony would have become a nation -of six-fingered folk. Among such a nation the duodecimal system -of notation would flourish, and some remarkable performers on the -pianoforte, flute, and other instruments, might be looked for; but we -do not know that they would possess any other advantage over their -pentadactylic contemporaries. Seeing that the system of colonising -above described is antecedently unlikely, and that no special advantage -could be derived from the persistence of any hitherto known abnormal -variety of the human race, it is unlikely that for many generations -yet to come we shall hear of six-fingered, hairy-faced, horny-skinned, -or hare-lipped nations. The only peculiarities which have any chance -of becoming permanent are such as, while not very uncommon, stand -in the way of intermarriage with persons not similarly affected. -A similar remark, as will presently appear, applies to mental and -moral characteristics. The law according to which contrast is found -attractive and similitude repugnant, though wide in its range, is not -universal; and there are cases in which resemblance, if it has not -the charm found (under ordinary circumstances) in contrast, is yet a -necessary element in matrimonial alliances. - -The inheritance of constitutional traits comes next to be considered. -It is probably not less frequently observed, and is in several respects -more interesting than the inheritance of peculiarities of bodily -configuration. - -Longevity, which may be regarded as measuring the aggregate -constitutional energy, is well known to be hereditary in certain -families, as is short duration of life in other families. The best -proof that this is the case is found in the action of insurance -companies, in ascertaining through their agents the longevity of the -ancestors of persons proposing to insure their lives. Instances of -longevity during several successive generations are too common to -be worth citing. Cases in which, for generation after generation, a -certain age, far short of the threescore years and ten, has not been -passed, even when all the circumstances have favoured longevity, are -more interesting. One of the most curious among these is the case of -the Turgot family, in which the age of fifty-nine had not been for -generations exceeded, to the time when Turgot made the name famous. -At the age of fifty, when he was in excellent health, and apparently -had promise of many years of life, he expressed to his friends his -conviction that the end of his life was near at hand. From that time -forward he held himself prepared for death, and, as we know, he died -before he had completed his fifty-fourth year. - -Fecundity is associated sometimes with longevity, but in other cases it -is as significantly associated with short duration of life. Of families -in which many children are born but few survive, we naturally have -less striking evidence than we have of families in which many children -of strong constitutions are born for several successive generations. -What may be called the fecundity of the short-lived is a quality -commonly leading in no long time to the disappearance of the family -in which it makes its appearance. It is the reverse, of course, with -fecundity in families whose members show individually great vigour of -constitution and high vital power. Ribot mentions several cases of this -sort among the families of the old French _noblesse_. Thus Anne de -Montmorency--who, despite his feminine name, was certainly by no means -feminine in character (at the Battle of St. Denis, in his sixty-sixth -year, he smashed with his sword the teeth of the Scotch soldier who was -giving him his death-blow) was the father of twelve children. Three of -his ancestors, Matthew I., Matthew II., and Matthew III., had, in all, -eighteen children, of whom fifteen were boys. 'The son and grandson of -the great Condé had nineteen between them, and their great-grandfather, -who lost his life at Jarnac, had ten. The first four Guises reckoned -in all forty-three children, of whom thirty were boys. Achille de -Harley had nine children, his father ten, and his great-grandfather -eighteen.' In the family of the Herschels in Hanover and in England, a -similar fecundity has been shown in two generations out of three. Sir -W. Herschel was one of a family of twelve children, of whom five were -sons. He himself did not marry till his fiftieth year, and had only one -son. But Sir John Herschel was the father of eleven children. - -Of constitutional peculiarities those affecting the nervous system -are most frequently transmitted. We do not, however, consider them -at this point, because they are viewed ordinarily rather as they -relate to mental and moral characteristics than as affections of -the body. The bodily affections most commonly transmitted are those -depending on what is called diathesis--a general state or disposition -of the constitution predisposing to some special disease. Such are -scrofula, cancer, tubercular consumption, gout, arthritis, and some -diseases specially affecting the skin. It would not be desirable to -discuss here this particular part of our subject, interesting though -it undoubtedly is. But it may be worth while to note that we have, -in the variety of forms in which the same constitutional bad quality -may present itself, evidence that what is actually transmitted is not -a peculiarity affecting a particular organ, even though in several -successive generations the disease may show itself in the same part of -the body, but an affection of the constitution generally. We have here -an answer to the question asked by Montaigne in the essay from which -we have already quoted. The essay was written soon after he had for -the first time experienced the pangs of renal calculus:--''Tis to be -believed,' he says, 'that I derived this infirmity from my father, for -he died wonderfully tormented' with it; he was 'never sensible of his -disease till the sixty-seventh year of his age, and before that had -never felt any grudging or symptom of it' ... 'but lived till then in -a happy vigorous state of health, little subject to infirmities, and -continued seven years after in this disease, and dyed a very painful -death. I was born about twenty-five years before his disease seized -him, and in the time of his most flourishing and healthful state of -body, his third child in order of birth: where could his propension -to this malady lie lurking all that while? And he being so far from -the infirmity, how could that small part of his substance carry away -so great an impression of its share? And how so concealed that, till -five-and-forty years after, I did not begin to be sensible of it? being -the only one to this hour, amongst so many brothers and sisters, and -all of one mother, that was ever troubled with it. He that can satisfie -me in this point, I will believe him in as many other miracles as he -pleases, always provided that, as their manner is, he does not give me -a doctrine much more intricate and fantastic than the thing itself, for -current pay.' When we note, however, that in many cases the children -of persons affected like the elder Montaigne are not affected like -the parents, but with other infirmities, as the tendency to gout, -and _vice versâ_ (a circumstance of which I myself have but too good -reason to be cognisant, a parent's tendency to gout having in my case -been transmitted in the modified but even more troublesome form of -the disease which occasioned Montaigne so much anguish), we perceive -that it is not 'some small part of the substance' which transmits its -condition to the child, but the general state of the constitution. -Moreover, it may be hoped in many cases (which would scarcely be the -case if the condition or qualities of some part of the body only were -transmitted) that the germs of disease, or rather the predisposition -to disease, may be greatly diminished, or even entirely eradicated, by -suitable precautions. Thus persons inheriting a tendency to consumption -have become, in many cases, vigorous and healthy by passing as much -of their time as possible in the open air, by avoiding crowded and -over-heated rooms, taking moderate but regular exercise, judicious -diet, and so forth. We believe that the disease which troubled the -last fifteen years of the life of Montaigne might readily have been -prevented, and the tendency to it eradicated, during his youth. - -Let us turn, however, from these considerations to others more -interesting, though less important, and on the whole perhaps better -suited to these pages. - -The inheritance of tricks or habits is one of the most perplexing -of all the phenomena of heredity. The less striking the habit, the -more remarkable, perhaps, is its persistence as an inherited trait. -Giron de Buzareingues states that he knew a man who, when he lay on -his back, was wont to throw his right leg across the left; one of -this person's daughters had the same habit from her birth, constantly -assuming that position in the cradle, notwithstanding the resistance -offered by the swaddling bands.[17] Darwin mentions another case in -his _Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication_:--A child -had the odd habit of setting its fingers in rapid motion whenever it -was particularly pleased with anything. When greatly excited, the same -child would raise the hand on both sides as high as the eyes, with the -fingers in rapid motion as before. Even in old age he experienced a -difficulty in refraining from these gestures. He had eight children, -one of whom, a little girl, when four years of age, used to set her -fingers going, and to lift up her hands after the manner of her father. -A still more remarkable case is described by Galton. A gentleman's wife -noticed that when he lay fast asleep on his back in bed he had the -curious trick of raising his right arm slowly in front of his face, -up to his forehead, and then dropping it with a jerk, so that the -wrist fell heavily on the bridge of his nose. The trick did not occur -every night, but occasionally, and was independent of any ascertained -cause. Sometimes it was repeated incessantly for an hour or more. The -gentleman's nose was prominent, and its bridge often became sore from -blows which it received. At one time an awkward sore was produced -that was long in healing, on account of the recurrence, night after -night, of the blows which first caused it. His wife had to remove the -button from the wrist of his night-gown, as it made severe scratches, -and some means were attempted of tying his arm. Many years after -his death, his son married a lady who had never heard of the family -incident. She, however, observed precisely the same peculiarity in her -husband; but his nose, from not being particularly prominent, has never -as yet suffered from the blows. The trick does not occur when he is -half asleep, as, for example, when he is dozing in his arm-chair; but -the moment he is fast asleep, he is apt to begin. It is, as with his -father, intermittent; sometimes ceasing for many nights, and sometimes -almost incessant during a part of every night. It is performed, as it -was with his father, with his right hand. One of his children, a girl, -has inherited the same trick. She performs it, likewise, with the right -hand, but in a slightly modified form; for after raising the arm, she -does not allow the wrist to drop upon the bridge of the nose, but the -palm of her half-closed hand falls over and down the nose, striking it -rather rapidly--a decided improvement on the father's and grandfather's -method. The trick is intermittent in this girl's case also, sometimes -not occurring for periods of several months but sometimes almost -incessantly. - -Strength in particular limbs or muscles is often transmitted -hereditarily. So also is skill in special exercises. Thus in the north -country there are families of famous wrestlers. Among professional -oarsmen, again, we may note such cases as the Clasper family in the -north, the Mackinneys in the south; while among amateur oarsmen we have -the case of the Playford family, to which the present amateur champion -sculler belongs. In cricket, the Walker family and the Grace family -may be cited among amateurs, the Humphreys among professional players. -Grace in dancing was transmitted for three generations in the Vestris -family. It must, however, be noted that in some of these cases we may -fairly consider that example and teaching have had much to do with the -result. Take rowing for instance. A good oarsman will impart his style -to a whole crew if he rows stroke for them; and even if he only trains -them (as Morrison, for instance, trained the Cambridge crew a few years -ago), he will make good oarsmen of men suitably framed and possessing -ordinary aptitude for rowing. I remember well how a famous stroke-oar -at Cambridge (John Hall, of Magdalen,) imparted to one at least of the -University crew (a fellow-collegian of his, and therefore rowing with -him constantly also in his College boat) so exact an imitation of his -style that one rather dusky evening, when the latter was 'stroking' a -scratch four past a throng of University men, a dispute arose as to -which of the two was really stroke of the four. Anyone who knows how -characteristic commonly is the rowing of any first-class stroke, and -still more anyone who chances to know how peculiar was the style of the -University 'stroke-oar' referred to, will understand how closely his -style must have been adopted, when experienced oarsmen, not many yards -from the passing four, were unable to decide at once which of the two -men were rowing,--even though the evening was dusky enough to prevent -the features of the stroke (whose face was not fully in view at the -moment) from being discerned. Seeing that a first-rate oarsman can thus -communicate his style so perfectly to another, it cannot be regarded as -demonstrably a case of hereditary transmission if the Claspers rowed -in the same style as their father, or if the present champion amateur -sculler (making allowances for the change introduced by the sliding -seat) rows very much like his father and his uncle. - -Some peculiarities, such as stammering, lisping, babbling, and the -like, are not easily referable to any special class of hereditary -traits, because it is not clear how far they are to be regarded as -depending on bodily or how far on mental peculiarities. It might seem -obvious that stammering was in most cases uncontrollable by the will, -and babbling might seem as certainly controllable. Yet there are cases -which throw doubt on either conclusion. Thus, Dr. Lucas tells us of -a servant-maid whose loquacity was apparently quite uncontrollable. -She would talk to people till they were ready to faint; and if there -were no human being to listen to her, she would talk to animals and -inanimate objects, or would talk aloud to herself. She had to be -discharged. 'But,' she said to her master, 'I am not to blame; it all -comes from my father. He had the same fault, and it drove my mother -to distraction; and his father was just the same.' Stammering has -been transmitted through as many as five generations. The same has -been noticed of peculiarities of vision. The Montmorency look, a sort -of half squint, affected nearly all the members of the Montmorency -family. The peculiarity called Daltonism, an inability to distinguish -between certain colours of the spectrum, was not so named, as is often -asserted, merely because the distinguished chemist Dalton was affected -by it, but because three members of the same family were similarly -affected. Deafness and blindness are not commonly hereditary where -the parents have lost sight or hearing either by accident or through -illness, even though the illness or accident occur during infancy; but -persons born either blind or deaf frequently if not commonly transmit -the defect to some at least among their offspring. Similar remarks -apply to deaf-mutism. - -The senses of taste and smell must also be included in the list of -those which are affected by transmitted peculiarities. If we include -the craving for liquor among such peculiarities, we might at once -cite a long list of cases; but this craving must be regarded as -nervo-psychical, the sense of taste having in reality very little to -do with it. It is doubtful how the following hideous instance should -be classed. It is related by Dr. Lucas. 'A man in Scotland had an -irresistible desire to eat human flesh. He had a daughter; although -removed from her father and mother, who were both sent to the stake -before she was a year old, and although brought up among respectable -people, this girl, like her father, yielded to the horrible craving for -human flesh.' He must be an ardent student of physiological science who -regrets that at this stage circumstances intervened which prevented the -world from ascertaining whether the peculiarity would have descended to -the third and fourth generations. - -Amongst the strangest cases of hereditary transmissions are those -relating to handwriting. Darwin cites several curious instances in -his _Variation of Plants and Animals under Domestication_. 'On what -a curious combination of corporeal structure, mental character, and -training,' he remarks, 'must handwriting depend. Yet everyone must have -noted the occasional close similarity of the handwriting in father and -son, even although the father had not taught the son. A great collector -of franks assured me that in his collection there were several franks -of father and son hardly distinguishable except by their dates.' -Hofacker, in Germany, remarks on the inheritance of handwriting, and it -has been even asserted that English boys when taught to write in France -naturally cling to their English manner of writing. Dr. Carpenter -mentions the following instance as having occurred in his own family, -as showing that the character of the handwriting is independent of -the special teaching which the right hand receives in this art:--'A -gentleman who emigrated to the United States and settled in the back -woods, before the end of last century, was accustomed from time to time -to write long letters to his sister in England, giving an account -of his family affairs. Having lost his right arm by an accident, the -correspondence was temporarily kept up by one or other of his children; -but in the course of a few months he learned to write with his left -hand, and before long, the handwriting of the letters thus written came -to be indistinguishable from that of his former letters.' - -I had occasion two or three years ago to consider in an article on -'Strange Mental Feats,' in my _Science Byeways_, the question of -inherited mental qualities and artistic habits, and would refer the -reader for some remarkable instances of transmitted powers to that -article.[18] Galton in his work on _Hereditary Genius_, and Ribot in -his treatise on _Heredity_, have collected many facts bearing on this -interesting question. Both writers show a decided bias in favour of -a view which would give to heredity a rather too important position -among the factors of genius. Cases are cited which seem very little -to the purpose, and multitudes of instances are omitted which oppose -themselves, at a first view at any rate, to the belief that heredity -plays the first part in the genesis of great minds. Nearly all the -greatest names in philosophy, literature, and science, and a great -number of the greatest names in art, stand absolutely alone. We know -nothing achieved by the father or grandfather of Shakspeare, or of -Goethe, or Schiller, or Evans (George Eliot), or Thackeray, or Dickens, -or Huxley. None of Newton's family were in any way distinguished in -mathematical or scientific work; nor do we know of a distinguished -Laplace, or Lagrange, or Lavoisier, or Harvey, or Dalton, or Volta, -or Faraday, besides those who made these names illustrious. As to -general literature, page after page might be filled with the mere -names of those whose ancestry has been quite undistinguished. To say -that among the ancestors of Goethe, Schiller, Byron, and so forth, -certain qualities, virtues or vices, passions or insensibilities to -passion, may be recognised 'among the ancestors of men of science, -certain aptitudes for special subjects or methods of research,' among -the ancestors of philosophers and literary men certain qualities or -capabilities, and that such ancestral peculiarities determined the -poetic, scientific, or literary genius of the descendant, is in reality -to little purpose, for there is probably not a single family possessing -claims to culture in any civilised country among the members of which -individuals might not be found with qualities thus emphasised so to -speak. Such _à posteriori_ reasoning is valueless. If instances could -be so classified that after carefully studying them we could make -even the roughest approach to a guess respecting the cases in which a -family might be expected to produce men of any particular qualities, -there would be some use in these attempts at generalisation; at present -all that can be said is that some mental qualities and some artistic -aptitudes have unquestionably in certain instances been transmitted, -and that on the whole men of great distinction in philosophy, -literature, science, and art, are rather more likely than others to -have among their relations (more or less remote) persons somewhat above -the average in mental or artistic qualities. But it is not altogether -certain that this superiority is even quite so great as it might be -expected to be if hereditary transmission played no part at all in -the matter. For it cannot be denied that a great mathematician's son -has rather a better chance than others of being a mathematician, a -great author's son of being a writer, a great artist's son of being -skilful in art, a great philosopher's son of taking philosophic views -of things. Nearly every son looks forward while still young to the -time when he shall be doing his father's work; nearly every father -hopes while his children are yet young that some at least among them -will follow his pursuits. The fact that so few sons of great men do -follow in their fathers' footsteps shows that, despite the strong -ambition of the son and the anxious hope of the father, the son in the -majority of instances has not had ability even to take a fairly good -position in the work wherein the father has been perhaps pre-eminently -distinguished. - -I have said that certain mental qualities have certainly been -transmitted in some cases. Galton mentions one noteworthy instance -relating to memory. In the family of Porson good memory was so notable -a faculty as to give rise to the byword, 'the Porson memory.' Lady -Hester Stanhope, says the late F. Papillon, 'she whose life was so -full of adventure, gives, as one among many points of resemblance -between herself and her grandfather, her retentive memory. "I have my -grandfather's grey eyes," said she, "and his memory of places. If he -saw a stone on the road, he remembered it; it is the same with myself. -His eye, which was ordinarily dull and lustreless, was lighted up, like -my own, with a dull gleam whenever he was seized with passion."' - -In endeavouring to form an opinion on the law of heredity in its -relation to genius, we must remember that a remark somewhat similar to -one made by Huxley respecting the origin of new species applies to the -origin of a man of genius. Before such a man became celebrated no one -cared particularly to inquire about his ancestry or relations; when -his fame was established, the time for making the inquiry had passed -away. It is quite possible that, if we had exact and full information, -in a great number of cases we might find the position taken up by Mr -Galton and M. Ribot greatly strengthened; it is, however, also possible -that we might find it much weakened, not only by the recognition of a -multitude of cases in which the approach of a great man was in no sort -indicated by scintillations of brightness along the genealogical track, -but by a yet greater number of cases in which families containing -numbers of clever, witty, and learned folks have produced none who -attained real distinction. - -There is an excellent remark in a thoughtful but anonymous paper on -Heredity in the _Quarterly Journal of Science_, two years or so ago, -which suggests some considerations well worth noting. 'If we look,' -says the writer, 'on the intellect as not a single force but a complex -of faculties, we shall find little to perplex us in the phenomenon of -spontaneity'--that is (in this case), in the appearance of a man of -genius in a family not before remarkable in any way. 'Suppose a family -who have possessed some of the attributes of greatness, but who, in -virtue of a principle equally true in psychology and in mechanics, -that "nothing is stronger than its weakest part," has remained in -obscurity. Let a man of this family marry a woman whose faculties are -the complement of his own. It is possible that a child of such a couple -may combine the defects or weaknesses of both parents, and we have -then the case of spontaneous imbecility or criminality. But it is also -possible that he may combine the excellences of both, and burst upon -the world as a spontaneous genius.... Again, we must remember that, -even if we consider the intellect as "one and indivisible," it is far -from being the only faculty needful for the attainment of excellence, -even in the fields of pure science. Combined with it there must be the -moral faculties of patience, perseverance, and concentration. The will -must be strong enough to overcome all distracting temptations, whether -in themselves good or evil. Lastly, there must be constitutional energy -and endurance. Failing these, the man will merely leave among his -friends the conviction that he might have achieved greatness, if----. -We once knew a physician, resident in a small country town, who from -time to time startled his associates by some profound and suggestive -idea, some brilliant _aperçu_. But a constitutional languor prevented -him from ever completing an investigation, or from leaving the world -one written line.' - -The effect of circumstances also must not be overlooked. It is certain -that some of those who stand highest in the world's repute would have -done nothing to make their names remembered but for circumstances -which either aided their efforts or compelled them to exertion; and -it cannot be doubted, therefore, that many who have been by no means -celebrated have required but favouring opportunities or the spur of -adverse circumstances to have achieved distinction. We note the cases -in which men who have been intended by their parents for the desk or -routine work have fortunately been freed for nobler work, to which -their powers have specially fitted them. But we are apt to forget that -for each such case there must be many instances in which no fortunate -chance has intervened. The theory that genius _will_ make its way, -despite all obstacles, is like the popular notion that 'murder will -out,' and other such fancies. We note when events happen which favour -such notions, but we not only do not note--in the very nature of things -it is impossible that we should have the chance of noting--cases -unfavourable to a notion which, after all, is but a part of the general -and altogether erroneous idea that what we think ought to be, will be. -That among millions of men in a civilised community, trained under -multitudinous conditions, for diverse professions, trades, and so -forth, exposed to many vicissitudes of fortune, good and bad, there -should be men from time to time-- - - Who break their birth's invidious bar, - And grasp the skirts of happy chance, - And breast the blows of circumstance, - And grapple with their evil star, - -is no truer proof of the general theory that genius will make its mark, -despite circumstance, than is the occasional occurrence of strange -instances in which murder has been detected despite seemingly perfect -precautions. - -It must, however, be in a general sense admitted that mental powers, -like bodily powers, are inherited. If the ancestry of men of genius -could be traced, we should in each case probably find enough, in the -history of some line at least along which descent could be traced, to -account for the possession of special powers, and enough in the history -of that and other lines of descent to account for the other qualities -or characteristics which, combined with those special powers, gave to -the man's whole nature the capacity by which he was enabled to stand -above the average level of his fellow-men. We might, with knowledge at -once wider and deeper than we actually possess of the various families -of each nation, and their relationships, predict in many cases, not -that any given child would prove a genius, but that some one or other -of a family would probably rise to distinction. To predict the advent -of a man of great genius as we predict the approach of an eclipse or a -transit, will doubtless never be in men's power; but it is conceivable -that at some perhaps not very remote epoch, anticipations may be formed -somewhat like those which astronomers are able to make respecting the -recurrence of meteoric showers at particular times and seasons, and -visible in particular regions. Already we know so much as this, that -in certain races of men only can special forms of mental energy, like -special bodily characteristics, be expected to appear. It may well be -that hereafter such anticipations may be limited to special groups of -families. - -When we pass from mental to moral qualities, we find ourselves in -the presence of problems which could not be thoroughly dealt with in -these pages. The general question, how far the moral characteristics -of each person born into the world depends on those of the parents, or -more generally of the ancestry, is one involving many considerations -which, perhaps unfortunately, have been associated with religious -questions. And apart from this, the answers to this question have been -found to have a very wide range--from the opinion of those who (like -Miss Martineau) consider that our characters, even where they seem -to undergo changes resulting from the exercise of will, are entirely -due to inheritance, to the view of those who consider, like Heinroth, -that no moral characteristic can possibly be regarded as inherited -in such sort as to modify either responsibility for evil-doing or -credit for well-doing. Probably most will be content to accept a view -between these extremes, without too nicely considering how far moral -responsibility is affected by the influence of inherited tendencies. - -There are, however, some illustrations relating to exceptional habits, -which may be mentioned here without bringing in the general question. - -I have not referred to insanity in speaking of inherited mental -qualities, because insanity must be regarded as a disease of the moral -rather than of the mental nature. Its origin may be in the mind, as -the origin of mental diseases is in the brain, that is, is in the -body; but the principal manifestations of insanity, those which must -guide us in determining its true position, are unquestionably those -relating to moral habitudes. Insanity is not always, or at least not -always demonstrably hereditary. Esquirol found among 1,375 lunatics 337 -unquestionable cases of hereditary transmission. Guislain and others -regard hereditary lunacy as including, roughly, one-fourth of the cases -of insanity. Moreau and others hold that the proportion is greater. It -appears, however, that mental alienation is not the only form in which -the insanity of an ancestor may manifest itself. Dr. Morel gives the -following instructive illustration of the 'varied and odd complications -occurring in the hereditary transmission of nervous disease.' He -attended four brothers belonging to one family. The grandfather of -these children had died insane; their father had never been able to -continue long at anything; their uncle, a man of great intellect and a -distinguished physician, was noted for his eccentricities. Now these -four children, sprung from one stock, presented very different forms -of physical disorder. One of them was a maniac, whose wild paroxysms -occurred periodically. The disorder of the second was melancholy -madness; he was reduced by his stupor to a merely automatic condition. -The third was characterised by an extreme irascibility and suicidal -disposition. The fourth manifested a strong liking for art; but he was -of a timorous and suspicious nature. This story seems in some degree to -give support to the theory that genius and mental aberration are not -altogether alien; that, in fact, - - Great wit to madness nearly is allied, - And thin partitions do their bounds divide. - -Of the hereditary transmission of idiotcy we naturally have not the -same kind of evidence. Madness often, if not generally, comes on or -shows itself late in life, whereas idiotcy is not often developed in -the adult. Insanity is the diseased or weakened condition of a mind -possessing all the ordinary thinking faculties; idiotcy implies that -some of these faculties are altogether wanting. It has been asserted, -by the way, that idiotcy is a product of civilisation. The civilised -'present, as peoples,' says Dr. Duncan, 'indications of defective vital -force, which are not witnessed among those human beings that live in -a state of nature. There must be something rotten in some parts of -our boasted civilisation: and not only a something which has to do -with our psychology, but a great deal more with our power of physical -persistence. It is a fact that the type of the perfect minded, just -above the highest idiots, or the simpletons, is more distinguishable -amongst the most civilised of the civilised than among those who are -the so-called children of nature. Dolts, boobies, stupids, _et hoc -genus omne_, abound in young Saxondom; but their representatives are -rare amongst the tribes that are slowly disappearing before the white -man.' But it seems barely possible that the difference may be due to -the care with which civilised communities interfere to prevent the -elimination of idiot infants by the summary process of destroying them. -The writer from whom I have just quoted refers to the fact that, even -under the Roman Empire, as during the Republic, idiots were looked upon -as 'useless entities by the practical Roman.' They had no sanctity in -his eyes, and hence their probable rarity; doubtless the unfortunate -children were neglected, and there is much reason for believing that -they were 'exposed.' 'A congenital idiot soon begins to give trouble,' -proceeds Dr. Duncan, 'and to excite unusual attention; and, moreover, -unless extra care is given to it, death is sure to ensue in early -childhood.' May not idiot children in savage communities have an even -worse chance of survival than under the Roman Empire? and may not -dolts, boobies, and stupids, _et hoc genus omne_, among savages, have -such inferior chances in the infantine and later in the adult struggle -for existence, that we may explain thus the comparative rarity of -these varieties in savage communities? It certainly does not seem to -have been proved as yet that civilisation _per se_ is favourable to the -development of insanity. - -The liking for strong drink, as is too well known, is often -transmitted. It is remarked by Dr. Howe that 'the children of drunkards -are deficient in bodily and vital energy, and are predisposed by their -very organisation to have cravings for alcoholic stimulants. If they -pursue the course of their fathers, which they have more temptation -to follow and less power to avoid than the children of the temperate, -they add to their hereditary weakness, and increase the tendency to -idiotcy or insanity in their constitution; and this they leave to their -children after them.' Whatever opinion we may form on the general -question of responsibility for offences of commission or of omission, -on this special point all who are acquainted with the facts must -agree, admitting that in some cases of inherited craving for alcoholic -stimulants the responsibility of those who have failed and fallen in -the struggle has been but small. 'The fathers have eaten sour grapes, -and the children's teeth are set on edge.' Robert Collyer of Chicago, -in his noble sermon 'The Thorn in the Flesh,' has well said, 'In the -far-reaching influences that go to every life, and away backward as -certainly as forward, children are sometimes born with appetites -fatally strong in their nature. As they grow up the appetite grows with -them, and speedily becomes a master, the master a tyrant; and by the -time he arrives at manhood, the man is a slave. I heard a man say that -for eight-and-twenty years the soul within him had had to stand like -an unsleeping sentinel, guarding his appetite for strong drink. To be -a man at last under such a disadvantage, not to mention a saint, is as -fine a piece of grace as can well be seen. There is no doctrine that -demands a larger vision than this of the depravity of human nature. Old -Dr. Mason used to say that "as much grace as would make John a saint, -would hardly keep Peter from knocking a man down."' - -There are some curious stories of special vices transmitted from -parent to child, which, if true, are exceedingly significant, to say -the least.[19] Gama Machado relates that a lady with whom he was -acquainted, who possessed a large fortune, had a passion for gambling -and passed whole nights at play. 'She died young,' he proceeds, 'of a -pulmonary complaint. Her eldest son who was in appearance the image -of his mother, had the same passion for play. He died of consumption -like his mother, and at the same age; his daughter who resembled him, -inherited the same tastes, and died young.' Hereditary predisposition -to theft, murder, and suicide, has been demonstrated in several cases. -But the world at large is naturally indisposed to recognise congenital -tendency to crime as largely diminishing responsibility for offences -or attempted offences of this kind. So far as the general interests -of the community are concerned, the demonstrated fact that a thief or -murderer has _inherited_ his unpleasant tendency should be a _raison de -plus_ for preventing the tendency from being transmitted any farther. -In stamping out the hereditary ruffian or rascal by life imprisonment, -we not only get rid of the 'grown serpent' but of the worm which - - Hath nature that in time would venom breed. - -An illustration of the policy at least (we do not say the justice) -of preventive measures in such cases, is shown in the case of a -woman in America, of whom the world may fairly say what Father Paul -remarked to gentle Alice Brown; it 'never knew so criminal a family as -hers.' A young woman of remarkably depraved character, infested, some -seventy years since, the district of the Upper Hudson. At one stage -of her youth she narrowly, and somewhat unfortunately, escaped death. -Surviving, however, she bore many children, who in turn had large -families, insomuch that there are now some eighty direct descendants, -of whom one-fourth are convicted criminals, whilst the rest are -drunkards, lunatics, paupers, and otherwise undesirable members of the -community. - -With facts such as these before us, we cannot doubt that in whatever -degree variability may eliminate after awhile peculiar mental or moral -tendencies, these are often transmitted for many generations before -they die out. If it be unsafe to argue that the responsibility of -those inheriting special characteristics is diminished, the duties of -others towards them may justly be considered to be modified. Other -duties than the mere personal control of tendencies which men may -recognise in themselves are also introduced. If a man finds within -himself an inherent tendency towards some sin, which yet he utterly -detests, insomuch that while the spirit is willing the flesh is weak -or perchance utterly powerless, he must recognise in his own life a -struggle too painful and too hopeless to be handed down to others. -As regards our relations to families in which criminal tendencies -have been developed, either through the negligence of those around -(as in certain dens in London where for centuries crime has swarmed -and multiplied), or by unfortunate alliances, we may 'perceive here -a divided duty.' It has been remarked that 'we do not set ourselves -to train tigers and wolves into peaceful domestic animals; we seek to -extirpate them,' and the question has been asked, 'why should we act -otherwise with beings, who, if human in form, are worse than wild -beasts?' 'To educate the son of a garotter or a "corner-man" into an -average Englishman,' may be 'about as promising a task as to train -one of the latter into a Newton or a Milton.' But we must not too -quickly despair of a task which may be regarded as a duty inherited -from those who in past generations neglected it. There is no hope of -the reversion of tiger or wolf to less savage types, for, far back as -we can trace their ancestry, we find them savage of nature. With our -criminal families the case is not so utterly hopeless. Extirpation -being impossible (though easily talked of) without injustice which -would be the parent of far greater troubles even than our criminal -classes bring upon us, we should consider the elements of hope which -the problem unquestionably affords. By making it the manifest interest -of our criminal population to scatter, or, failing that, by leaving -them no choice in the matter, the poison in their blood may before many -generations be eradicated, not by wide-spreading merely, but because -of the circumstance that only the better sort among them would have -(when scattered) much chance of rearing families as well as of escaping -imprisonment. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 15: It is said by Ribot that of all the features the nose is -the one which heredity preserves best.] - -[Footnote 16: Shakspeare, who was bald young (and, so far as one -can judge from his portraits, had a good set of teeth), suggests a -correlation between hairiness and want of wit, which is at least -likely to be regarded by those who 'wear his baldness while they're -young' as a sound theory. 'Why,' asks Antipholus of Syracuse, 'is Time -such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement?' -'Because,' says Dromio of Syracuse, 'it is a blessing that he bestows -on beasts; and what he hath scanted men in hair he hath given them in -wit.'] - -[Footnote 17: While penning the above lines I have been reminded of an -experience of my own, which I had never before thought of as connected -with the subject of heredity; yet it seems not unlikely that it may be -regarded as a case in point. During the infancy of my eldest son it -so chanced that the question of rest at night, and consequently the -question of finding some convenient way of keeping the child quiet, -became one of considerable interest to me. Cradle-rocking was effective -but carried on in the usual way prevented my own sleep, though causing -the child to sleep. I devised, however, a way of rocking the cradle -with the foot, which could be carried on in my sleep, after a few -nights' practice. Now it is an odd coincidence (only, perhaps) that the -writer's next child, a girl, had while still an infant a trick which I -have noticed in no other case. She would rock herself in the cradle by -throwing the right leg over the left at regular intervals, the swing of -the cradle being steadily kept up for many minutes, and being quite as -wide in range as a nurse could have given. It was often continued when -the child was asleep. - -Since writing the above, I have learned from my eldest daughter, the -girl who as a child had the habit described, that a recent little -brother of hers, one of twins, and remarkably like her, had the same -habit, rocking his own cradle so vigorously as to disturb her in the -next room with the noise. These two only of twelve children have had -this curious habit; but as this child is thirteen years younger than -she is, the force of the coincidence in point of time is to some degree -impaired.] - -[Footnote 18: See my _Science Byeways_, p. 337 _et seq._] - -[Footnote 19: The following statement from the researches of -Brown-Sequard seems well worth noting in this connection:--'In the -course of his masterly experimental investigations into the functions -of the nervous system he discovered that, after a particular lesion -of the spinal cord of guinea-pigs, a slight pinching of the skin of -the face would throw the animal into a kind of epileptic convulsion. -That this artificial epilepsy should be constantly producible in -guinea-pigs, and not in any other animals experimented on, was in -itself sufficiently singular; and it was not less surprising that the -tendency to it persisted after the lesion of the spinal cord seemed -to have been entirely recovered from. But it was far more wonderful -that the offspring of these epileptic guinea-pigs showed the same -predisposition, without having been themselves subjected to any lesion -whatever; whilst no such tendency showed itself in any of the large -number of young bred by the same accurate observer from parents that -had not thus been operated on.'] - - - - -_BODILY ILLNESS AS A MENTAL STIMULANT._ - - -During special states of disease the mind sometimes develops faculties -such as it does not possess when the body is in full health. Some of -the abnormal qualities thus exhibited by the mind seem strikingly -suggestive of the possible acquisition by the human race of similar -powers under ordinary conditions. For this reason, though we fear -there is no likelihood at present of any practical application of the -knowledge we may obtain on this subject, it seems to me that there is -considerable interest in examining the evidence afforded by the strange -powers which the mind occasionally shows during diseases of the body, -and especially during such diseases as are said, in unscientific but -expressive language, to lower the tone of the nervous system. - -We may begin by citing a case which seems exceedingly significant. Miss -H. Martineau relates that a congenital idiot, who had lost his mother -when he was less than two years old, when dying, 'suddenly turned -his head, looked bright and sensible, and exclaimed, in a tone never -heard from him before, "Oh my mother! how beautiful!" and sank down -again--dead.' Dr. Carpenter cites this as a case of abnormal memory, -illustrating his thesis that the basis of recollection 'may be laid at -a very early period of life.' But the story seems to contain a deeper -meaning. The poor idiot not only recalled a long-past time, a face -that he had not seen for years except in dreams, but he gained for a -moment a degree of intelligence which he had not possessed when in -health. The quality of his brain was such, it appears, that with the -ordinary activity of the circulation, the ordinary vitality of the -organ, mental action was uncertain and feeble; but when the circulation -had all but ceased, when the nervous powers were all but prostrate, the -feeble brain, though it may have become no stronger actually, became -relatively stronger, in such sort that for the time specified, a mere -moment before dissolution, the idiot became an intelligent being. - -A somewhat similar case is on record in which an insane person, during -that stage of typhus fever in which sane persons are apt to become -delirious, became perfectly sane and reasonable, his insanity returning -with returning health. Persons of strongest mind in health are often -delirious for a short time before death. Since, then, the idiot in the -same stage of approaching dissolution may become intelligent, while -the insane may become sane under the conditions which make the sane -become delirious, we recognise a relationship between the mental and -bodily states which might be of considerable use in the treatment of -mental diseases. It may well be that conditions of the nervous system -which are to be avoided by persons of normal mental qualities may be -advantageously superinduced in the case of those of abnormally weak or -abnormally violent mind. It is noteworthy that different conditions -would seem to be necessary for the idiotic and for the insane, if -the cases cited sufficed to afford basis for generalisation. For the -idiot of Miss Martineau's story became intelligent during the intense -depression of the bodily powers immediately preceding dissolution, -whereas the insane person became sane during that height of fever when -delirium commonly makes its appearance. - -Sir H. Holland mentions a case which shows that great bodily depression -may affect a person of ordinary clear and powerful mind. 'I descended -on one and the same day,' he says, 'two very deep mines in the Hartz -Mountains, remaining some hours under ground in each. While in the -second mine, and exhausted both from fatigue and inanition, I felt the -utter impossibility of talking longer with the German Inspector who -accompanied me. Every German word and phrase deserted my recollection; -and it was not until I had taken food and wine, and been some time at -rest, that I regained them again.' - -A change in the mental condition is sometimes a sign of approaching -serious illness, and is felt to be so by the person experiencing it. -An American writer, Mr. Butterworth, quotes the following description -given by a near relative of his who was suffering from extreme nervous -debility. 'I am in constant fear of insanity,' she said, 'and I wish -I could be moved to some retreat for the insane. I understand my -condition perfectly; my reason does not seem to be impaired; but I can -think of _two things at the same time_. This is an indication of mental -unsoundness, and is a terror to me. I do not seem to have slept at all -for the last six months. If I sleep, it must be in a succession of -vivid dreams that destroy all impression of somnolence. Since I have -been in this condition I seem to have a very vivid impression of what -happens to my children who are away from home, and I am often startled -to hear that these impressions are correct. I seem to have also a -certain power of anticipating what one is about to say, and to read -the motives of others. I take no pleasure in this strange increase of -mental power; it is all unnatural. I cannot live in this state long, -and I often wish I were dead.' - -It must, however, be remembered that persons who are in a state of -extreme nervous debility, not only possess at times abnormal mental -qualities, but are also affected morally. As Huxley has well remarked -of some stories bearing on spiritualism, they come from persons -who can hardly be trusted even according to their own account of -themselves. Mr. Butterworth's relation described a mental condition -which, even if quite correctly pictured as she understood it, may yet -be explained without believing that any very marvellous increase had -taken place in her mental powers. Among the vivid impressions which -she constantly had of what might be happening to her children away -from home, it would have been strange if some had not been correct. -The power of anticipating what others were about to say is one which -many imagine they have, mistaking the occasional coincidence between -their guesses and what has been next said, for indications of a power -which in reality they do not possess. And so also with regard to the -motives of others. Many are apt, especially when out of health, to -guess at others' motives, sometimes rightly, but oftener very wrongly, -yet always rightly in their own belief, no matter what evidence may -presently appear to the contrary. - -The case cited by Mr. Butterworth affords evidence rather of the -unhealthy condition of the patient's mind than of abnormal powers, -except as regards the power of thinking of two things at the same -time, which we may fairly assume was not ordinarily possessed by its -relative. It is rather difficult to define such a power, however. -Several persons have apparently possessed the power, showing it by -doing two things at the same time which both appear to require thought, -and even close attention. Julius Cæsar, for example, could write on one -subject and dictate on another simultaneously. But in reality, even in -cases such as these, the mind does not think of two things at once. It -simply takes them in turn, doing enough with each, in a short time, a -mere instant, perhaps, to give work to the pen or to the voice, as the -case may be, for a longer time. When Cæsar was writing a sentence, he -was not necessarily thinking of what he was writing. He had done the -thinking part of the work before; and was free, while continuing the -mere mechanical process of writing, to think of matter for dictation -to his secretary. So also while he was speaking he was free to think -of matter for writing. If, indeed, the thought for each sentence of -either kind had occupied an appreciable time, there would have been -interruptions of his writing, if not of his dictation (dictation is -not commonly a continuous process under any circumstances, even when -shorthand writers take down the words). But a practised writer or -speaker can in a moment form a sentence which shall occupy a minute in -writing and several seconds in speaking. - -I certainly do not myself claim the power of thinking of two things -at once,--nay, I believe that no one ever had or could have such a -power: yet I find it perfectly easy, when lecturing, to arrange the -plan for the next ten minutes' exposition of a scientific subject, and -to adopt the words themselves for the next twenty seconds or so, while -continuing to speak without the least interruption. I can also work out -a calculation on the black-board while continuing to speak of matters -outside the subject of the calculation. It is more a matter of habit -than an indication of any mental power, natural or acquired, to speak -or write sentences; even of considerable length, after the mind has -passed on to other matters. In a similar way some persons can write -different words with the right and left hands, and this, too, while -speaking of other matters. (I have seen this done by Professor Morse, -the American naturalist, whose two hands added words to the diagrams he -had drawn while his voice dealt with other parts of the drawing: to add -to the wonder, too, he wrote the words indifferently from right to left -or from left to right.) In reality the person who thus does two things -at once is no more thinking of two things at once than a clock is, when -the striking and the working machinery are both in action at the same -time.[20] - -As an illustration of special mental power shown in health, by a person -whose mental condition in illness we shall consider afterwards, Sir -Walter Scott may be mentioned. The account given by his amanuensis -has seemed surprising to many, unfamiliar with the nature of literary -composition (at least after long practice), but is in reality such as -anyone who writes much can quite readily understand, or might even have -known must necessarily be correct. 'His thoughts,' says the secretary -to whom Scott dictated his _Life of Napoleon Buonaparte_, 'flowed -easily and felicitously, without any difficulty to lay hold of them -or to find appropriate language' (which, by the way, is more than all -would say who had read Scott's _Life of Buonaparte_, and certainly more -than can be said of his secretary, unless it really was a familiar -experience with him to be unable to lay hold of his thoughts). 'This -was evident by the absence of all solicitude (_miseria cogitandi_) -from his countenance. He sat in his chair, from which he rose now and -then, took a volume from the book-case, consulted it, and restored it -to the shelf--all without intermission in the current of ideas, which -continued to be delivered with no less readiness than if his mind had -been wholly occupied with the words he was uttering. It soon became -apparent to me, however, that he was carrying on two distinct trains -of thought, one of which was already arranged and in the act of being -spoken, while at the same time he was in advance, considering what -was afterwards to be said. This I discovered' (he should rather have -said, 'this I was led to infer') 'by his sometimes introducing a word -which was wholly out of place--_entertained_ instead of _denied_, for -example--but which I presently found to belong to the next sentence, -perhaps four or five lines further on, which he had been preparing at -the very moment when he gave me the words of the one that preceded -it.' In the same way I have often unconsciously substituted one word -for another in lecturing, the word used always belonging to a later -sentence than the word intended to be used. I have noticed also this -peculiarity, that when a substitution of this kind has been once made, -an effort is required to avoid repeating the mistake, even if it be -not repeated quite unconsciously to the end of the discourse. In this -way, for example, I once throughout an entire lecture used the word -'heavens' for the word 'screen' (the screen on which lantern pictures -were shown). A similar peculiarity may be noticed with written errors. -Thus in my treatise on a scientific subject, in which the utmost care -had been given to minute points of detail, I once wrote 'seconds' for -'minutes' throughout several pages--in fact, from the place where -first the error was made, to the end of the chapter. (See the _first_ -edition of my _Transits of Venus_, pp. 131-136, noting as an additional -peculiarity that the whole object of the chapter in which this mistake -was made was to show how many minutes of difference existed between the -occurrence of certain events.) - -An even more curious instance of a mistake arising from doing one -thing while thinking of another occurred to me fourteen years ago. I -was correcting the proof-sheets of an astronomical treatise in which -occurred these words: 'Calling the mean distance of the earth 1, -Saturn's mean distance is 9·539; again, calling the earth's period -1, Saturn's mean period is 29·457:--now what relation exists between -these numbers 9·539 and 29·457 and their powers? The first is less -than the second, but the square of the first is plainly greater than -the second; we must therefore try higher powers, &c. &c.' The passage -was quite correct as it stood, and if the two processes by which I was -correcting verbal errors and following the sense of the passage had -been really continuous processes of thought, unquestionably the passage -would have been left alone. If the passage had been erroneous and had -been simply left in that condition the case would have been one only -too familiar to those who have had occasion to correct proofs. But -what I actually did was deliberately to make nonsense of the passage -while improving the sound of the second sentence. I made it run, -'the first is less than the second, but the square of the first is -plainly greater than the square of the second,' the absurdity of which -statement a child would detect. If the first proof in its correct form, -with the incorrect correction carefully written down in the margin, -had not existed when, several months later, the error was pointed out -in the _Quarterly Journal of Science_, I should have felt sure that -I had written the words wrongly at the outset. For blunders such as -this are common enough. But that I should deliberately have taken a -correctly worded sentence and altered it into utter absurdity I could -not, but for the evidence, have believed to be possible. The case -plainly shows that not only may two things be done at once when the -mind, nevertheless, is thinking only of one, but that something may be -done which suggests deliberate reflection when in reality the mind is -elsewhere or not occupied at all. For in this case both the processes -on which I was engaged were manifestly carried on without thought, -one being purely mechanical and the other, though requiring thought if -properly attended to, being so imperfectly effected as to show that no -thought was given to it. - -To return to Sir Walter Scott. It is known but too well that during -the later years of his life there came with bodily prostration a great -but not constant failure of his mental powers. Some of the phenomena -presented during this part of his career are strikingly illustrative of -abnormal mental action occurring even at times when the mental power -is on the whole much weakened. _The Bride of Lammermoor_, though not -one of the best of Scott's novels, is certainly far above such works -as _Count Robert of Paris_, _The Betrothed_, and _Castle Dangerous_. -Its popularity may perhaps be attributed chiefly to the deep interest -of the 'ower true tale' on which it is founded: but some of the -characters are painted with exceeding skill. Lucy herself is almost -a nonentity, and Edgar is little more than a gloomy, unpleasant man, -made interesting only by the troubles which fall on him. But Caleb -Balderstone and Ailsie Gourlay stand out from the canvas as if alive; -they are as lifelike and natural, yet as thoroughly individualised -as Edie Ochiltree and Meg Merrilies. The novel neither suggested -when it first appeared, nor has been regarded even after the facts -became known, as suggesting that Scott, when he wrote it, was in bad -health. Yet it was produced under pressure of severe illness, and when -Scott was at least in this sense unconscious, that nothing of what -he said and did in connection with the work was remembered when he -recovered. 'The book,' says James Ballantyne, 'was not only written, -but published, before Mr. Scott was able to rise from his bed; and he -assured me that when it was first put into his hands in a complete -shape, _he did not recollect one single incident, character, or -conversation it contained_! He did not desire me to understand, nor did -I understand, that his illness had erased from his memory the original -incidents of the story, with which he had been acquainted from his -boyhood. These remained rooted where they had ever been; or, to speak -more explicitly, he remembered the general facts of the existence of -the father and mother, of the son and daughter, of the rival lovers, -of the compulsory marriage, and the attack made by the bride upon the -hapless bridegroom, with the general catastrophe of the whole. _All -these things he recollected_, just as he did before he took to his bed; -_but he literally recollected nothing else_--not a single character -woven by the romancer, not one of the many scenes and points of humour, -not _anything with which he was himself connected_, as the writer of -the work. - -Later, when Scott was breaking down under severe and long-continued -labour, and first felt the approach of the illness which ultimately -ended in death, he experienced strange mental phenomena. In his diary -for February 17, 1829, he notes that on the preceding day, at dinner, -though in company with two or three old friends, he was haunted by 'a -sense of pre-existence,' a confused idea that nothing that passed was -said for the first time; that the same topics had been discussed, and -that the same persons had expressed the same opinions before. 'There -was a vile sense of a want of reality in all that I did or said.' - -Dr. Reynolds related to Dr. Carpenter a case in which a Dissenting -minister, who was in apparently sound health, was rendered apprehensive -of brain-disease--though, as it seemed, without occasion--by a lapse -of memory similar to that experienced by Sir Walter Scott. He 'went -through an entire pulpit service on a certain Sunday morning with the -most perfect consistency--his choice of hymns and lessons, and his -_extempore_ prayer being all related to the subject of his sermon. On -the following Sunday morning he went through the introductory part of -the service in precisely the same manner--giving out the same hymns, -reading the same lessons, and directing the _extempore_ prayer in the -same channel. He then gave out the same text and preached the very same -sermon as he had done on the previous Sunday. When he came down from -the pulpit, it was found that he had not the smallest remembrance of -having gone through precisely the same service on the previous Sunday; -and when he was assured of it, he felt considerable uneasiness lest -his lapse of memory should indicate some impending attack of illness. -None such, however, supervened; and no _rationale_ can be given of -this curious occurrence, the subject of it not being liable to fits -of "absence of mind" and not having had his thoughts engrossed at the -time by any other special pre-occupation.' It is possible that the -explanation here is the simple one of mere coincidence. Whether this -explanation is available or not would depend entirely on the question -whether the preacher's memory was ordinarily trustworthy or not, -whether in fact he would remember the arrangements, prayers, sermon, -&c., he had given on any occasion. These matters becoming, after long -habit, almost automatic, it might very well happen that the person -going through such duties would remember them no longer and no better -than one who had been present when they were performed, and who had -not paid special attention to them. That if he had thus unconsciously -carried out his duties on one Sunday he should (being to this degree -forgetful) conduct them in precisely the same way on the next Sunday, -would rather tend to show that his mental faculties were in excellent -working order than the reverse. Wendell Holmes tells a story which -effectively illustrates my meaning; and he tells it so pleasantly (as -usual) that I shall quote it unaltered. 'Sometimes, but rarely,' he -says, 'one may be caught making the same speech twice over, and yet be -held blameless. Thus a certain lecturer' (Holmes himself, doubtless), -'after performing in an inland city, where dwells a _littératrice_ -of note, was invited to meet her and others over the social tea-cup. -She pleasantly referred to his many wanderings in his new occupation. -"Yes," he replied, "I am like the huma, the bird that never lights, -being always in the cars, as he is always on the wing." Years elapsed. -The lecturer visited the same place once more for the same purpose. -Another social cup after the lecture, and a second meeting with the -distinguished lady. "You are constantly going from place to place," -she said. "Yes," he answered, "I am like the huma," and finished the -sentence as before. What horror when it flashed over him that he had -made this fine speech, word for word, twice over! Yet it was not true, -as the lady might perhaps have fairly inferred, that he had embellished -his conversation with the huma daily during that whole interval of -years. On the contrary, he had never once thought of the odious fowl -until the recurrence of precisely the same circumstances brought up -precisely the same idea.' He was not in the slightest degree afraid -of brain-disease. On the contrary, he considered the circumstance -indicative of good order in the mental mechanism. 'He ought to have -been proud,' says Holmes, speaking for him, and meaning no doubt that -he _was_ proud, 'of the accuracy of his mental adjustments. _Given -certain factors, and a sound brain should always evolve the same fixed -product with the certainty of Babbage's calculating machine._' - -Somewhat akin to the unconscious recurrence of mental processes -after considerable intervals of time is the tendency to imitate the -actions of others as though sharing in their thoughts, and according -to many _because_ mind acts upon mind. This tendency, though not -always associated with disease, is usually a sign of bodily illness. -Dr. Carpenter mentions the following singular case, but rather as -illustrating generally the influence of suggestions derived from -external sources in determining the current of thought, than as showing -how prone the thoughts are to run in undesirable currents when the -body is out of health:--'During an epidemic of fever, in which an -active delirium had been a common symptom, it was observed that many -of the patients of one particular physician were possessed by a strong -tendency to throw themselves out of the window, whilst no such tendency -presented itself in unusual frequency in the practice of others. The -author's informant, Dr. C., himself a distinguished professor in the -university, explained the tendency of what had occurred within his own -knowledge; he having been himself attacked by the fever, and having -been under the care of this physician, his friend and colleague, Dr. -A. Another of Dr. A.'s patients whom we shall call Mr. B., seems to -have been the first to make the attempt in question; and impressed -with the necessity of taking due precautions, Dr. A. then visited Dr. -C., _in whose hearing_ he gave directions to have the windows properly -secured, as Mr. B. had attempted to throw himself out. Now Dr. C. -distinctly remembers, that although he had not previously experienced -any such desire, it came upon him with great urgency as soon as ever -the idea was thus suggested to him; his mind being just in that state -of incipient delirium which is marked by the temporary dominance of -some one idea, and by the want of volitional power to withdraw the -attention from it. And he deemed it probable that, as Dr. A. went on to -Mr. D., Mr. E., &c., and gave similar directions, a like desire would -be excited in the minds of all those who might happen to be in the same -impressible condition.' The case is not only interesting as showing -how the mind in disease receives certain impressions more strongly -than in health, and in a sense may thus be said to possess for the -time an abnormal power, but it affords a useful hint to doctors and -nurses, who do not always (the latter indeed scarcely ever) consider -the necessity of extreme caution when speaking about their patients and -in their presence. It is probable that a considerable proportion of the -accidents, fatal and otherwise, which have befallen delirious patients -might be traced to incautious remarks made in their hearing by foolish -nurses or forgetful doctors. - -In some cases doctors have had to excite a strong antagonistic feeling -against tendencies of this kind. Thus Zerffi relates that an English -physician was once consulted by the mistress of a ladies' school where -many girls had become liable to fits of hysterics. He tried several -remedies, but in vain. At last, justly regarding the epidemic as -arising from the influence of imagination on the weaker girls (one -hysterical girl having infected the others), he determined to exert -a stronger antagonistic influence on the weak minds of his patients. -He therefore remarked casually to the mistress of the school, in the -hearing of the girls, that he had now tried all methods but one, which -he would try, as a last resource, when next he called--'the application -of a red-hot iron to the spine of the patients so as to quiet their -nervously-excited systems.' 'Strange to say,' remarks Zerffi--meaning, -no doubt, 'it is hardly necessary to say that'--'the red-hot iron was -never applied, for the hysterical attacks ceased as if by magic.' - -In another case mentioned by Zerffi, a revival mania in a large school -near Cologne was similarly brought to an abrupt end. The Government -sent an inspector. He found that the boys had visions of Christ, the -Virgin, and departed saints. He threatened to close the school if -these visions continued, and thus to exclude the students from all the -prospects which their studies afforded them. 'The effect was as magical -as the red-hot iron remedy--the revivals ceased as if by magic.' - -The following singular cases are related in Zimmermann's _Solitude_:--A -nun, in a very large convent in France, began to mew like a cat. At -last all the nuns began to mew together every day at a certain time, -and continued mewing for several hours together. This daily cat-concert -continued, until the nuns were informed that a company of soldiers -was placed by the police before the entrance to the convent, and that -the soldiers were provided with rods with which they would whip the -nuns until they promised not to mew any more,' ... 'In the fifteenth -century, a nun in a German convent fell to biting her companions. In -the course of a short time all the nuns of this convent began biting -each other. The news of this infatuation among the nuns soon spread, -and excited the same elsewhere; the biting mania passing from convent -to convent through a great part of Germany. It afterwards visited the -nunneries of Holland, and even spread as far as Rome.' No suggestion -of bodily disease is made in either case. But anyone who considers -how utterly unnatural is the manner of life in monastic communities -will not need the evidence derived from the spread of such preposterous -habits to be assured that in convents the perfectly sane mind in a -perfectly healthy body must be the exception rather than the rule. - -The dancing mania, which spread through a large part of Europe in the -fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, although it eventually attacked -persons who were seemingly in robust health, yet had its origin in -disease. Dr. Hecker, who has given the most complete account we have -of this strange mania, in his _Epidemics of the Middle Ages_, says -that when the disease was completely developed the attack commenced -with epileptic convulsions. 'Those affected fell to the ground -senseless, panting and labouring for breath. They foamed at the -mouth, and suddenly springing up began their dance amidst strange -contortions. They formed circles hand in hand, and appearing to have -lost all control over their senses continued dancing, regardless of the -bystanders, for hours together, in wild delirium, until at length they -fell to the ground in a state of exhaustion. They then complained of -extreme oppression, and groaned as if in the agonies of death, until -they were swathed in clothes bound tightly round their waists; upon -which they again recovered, and remained free from complaint until -the next attack.... While dancing they neither saw nor heard, being -insensible to external impressions through the senses; but they were -haunted by visions, their fancies conjuring up spirits, whose names -they shrieked out; and some of them afterwards asserted that they felt -as if they had been immersed in a stream of blood, which obliged them -to leap so high. Others during the paroxysm saw the heavens open, -and the Saviour enthroned with the Virgin Mary, according as the -religious notions of the age were strangely and variously reflected -in their imaginations.' The epidemic attacked people of all stations, -but especially those who led a sedentary life, such as shoemakers and -tailors; yet even the most robust peasants finally yielded to it. They -'abandoned their labours in the fields as if they were possessed by -evil spirits, and those affected were seen assembling indiscriminately -from time to time, at certain appointed places, and unless prevented -by the lookers-on, continued to dance without intermission, until -their very last breath was expended. Their fury and extravagance of -demeanour so completely deprived them of their senses, that many -of them dashed their brains out against the walls and corners of -buildings, or rushed headlong in rapid rivers, where they found a -watery grave. Roaring and foaming as they were, the bystanders could -only succeed in restraining them by placing benches and chairs in their -way, so that by the high leaps they were thus tempted to take, their -strength might be exhausted. As soon as this was the case they fell, -as it were, lifeless to the ground, and by very slow degrees recovered -their strength. Many there were who even with all this exertion had not -expended the violence of the tempest which raged within them; but awoke -with newly revived powers, and again and again mixed with the crowd of -dancers; until at length the violent excitement of their disordered -nerves was allayed by the great involuntary exertion of their limbs, -and the mental disorder was calmed by the exhaustion of the body. The -cure effected by these stormy attacks was in many cases so perfect, -that some patients returned to the factory or plough, as if nothing -had happened. Others, on the contrary, paid the penalty of their folly -by so total a loss of power, that they could not regain their former -health, even by the employment of the most strengthening remedies.' - -It may be doubted, perhaps, by some whether such instances as these -illustrate so much the state to which the mind is reduced when the body -is diseased, as the state to which the body is reduced when the mind -is diseased, though, as we have seen, the dancing mania when fully -developed followed always on bodily illness. In the cases we now have -to deal with, the diseased condition of the body was unmistakable. - -Mrs. Hemans on her deathbed said that it was impossible for imagination -to picture or pen to describe the delightful visions which passed -before her mind. They made her waking hours more delightful than those -passed in sleep. It is evident that these visions had their origin -in the processes of change affecting the substance of the brain as -the disease of the body progressed. But it does not follow that the -substance of the brain was undergoing changes necessarily tending -to its ultimate decay and dissolution. Quite possibly the changes -were such as might occur under the influence of suitable medicinal -or stimulant substances, and without any subsequent ill effects. -Dr. Richardson, in an interesting article on ether-drinking and -extra-alcoholic intoxication (_Gentleman's Magazine_ for October), -makes a remark which suggests that the medical men of our day look -forward to the discovery of means for obtaining some such influence -over the action of the brain. After describing the action of methylic -and ethylic ethers in his own case, he says: 'They who have felt -this condition, who have lived as it were in another life, however -transitorily, are easily led to declare with Davy that "nothing -exists but thoughts! the universe is composed of impressions, ideas, -pleasures, and pains!" I believe it is so, and that we might by -scientific art, and there is such an art, learn to live altogether in -a new sphere of impressions, ideas, pleasures, and pains.' But stay,' -he adds, as if he had said too much, 'I am anticipating, unconsciously, -something else that is in my mind. The rest is silence; I must return -to the world in which we now live, and which all know.' - -Mr. Butterworth mentions the case of the Rev. William Tennent, of -Freehold, New Jersey, as illustrative of strange mental faculties -possessed during disease. Tennent was supposed to be far gone in -consumption. At last, after a protracted illness, he seemingly died, -and preparations were made for his funeral. Not only were his friends -deceived, but he was deceived himself, for he thought he was dead, and -that his spirit had entered Paradise. 'His soul, as he thought, was -borne aloft to celestial altitudes, and was enraptured by visions of -God and all the hosts of Heaven. He seemed to dwell in an enchanted -region of limitless light and inconceivable splendour. At last an -angel came to him and told him that he must go back. Darkness, like an -overawing shadow, shut out the celestial glories; and, full of sudden -horror, he uttered a deep groan. This dismal utterance was heard by -those around him, and prevented him from being buried alive, after all -the preparations had been made for the removal of the body.' - -We must not fall into the mistake of supposing, however, as many seem -to do, that the visions seen under such conditions, or by ecstatics, -really present truths of which the usual mental faculties could not -become cognisant. We have heard such cases as the deathbed visions of -Mrs. Hemans, and the trance visions of Tennent, urged as evidence in -favour of special forms of doctrine. We have no thought of attacking -these, but assuredly they derive no support from evidence of this -sort. The dying Hindoo has visions which the Christian would certainly -not regard as heaven-born. The Mahomedan sees the plains of Paradise, -peopled by the houris of his heaven, but we do not on that account -accept the Koran as the sole guide to religious truth. The fact is, -that the visions pictured by the mind during the disease of the body, -or in the ecstatic condition, have their birth in the mind itself, -and take their form from the teachings with which that mind has been -imbued. They may, indeed, seem utterly unlike those we should expect -from the known character of the visionary, just as the thoughts of a -dying man may be, and often are, very far removed from the objects -which had occupied all his attention during the later years of his -life. But if the history of the childhood and youth of an ecstatic -could be fully known, or if (which is exceedingly unlikely) we could -obtain a strictly truthful account of such matters from himself, we -should find nearly every circumstance of his visions explained, or at -least an explanation suggested. For, after all, much which would be -necessary to exactly show the origin of all he saw, would be lost, -since the brain retains impressions of many things of which the -conscious memory has entirely passed away. - -The vivid picturing of forgotten events of life is a familiar -experience of the opium-eater. Thus De Quincey says: 'The minutest -incidents of childhood or forgotten scenes of later years, were often -revived. I could not be said to recollect them, for if I had been told -of them when waking, I should not have been able to acknowledge them as -part of my past experience. But placed as they were before me in dreams -like intuitions, and clothed in all their evanescent circumstances and -accompanying feelings, I recognised them instantaneously.' A similar -return of long-forgotten scenes and incidents to the mind may be -noticed, though not to the same degree, when wine has been taken in -moderate quantity after a long fast. - -The effects of hachisch are specially interesting in this connection, -because, unless a very powerful dose has been taken, the hachischin -does not wholly lose the power of introspection, so that he is able -afterwards to recall what has passed through his mind when he was under -the influence of the drug. Now Moreau, in his interesting _Etudes -Psychologiques_ (_Du Hachich et d'Aliénation Mentale_), says that the -first result of a dose sufficient to produce the _hachisch fantasia_ -is a feeling of intense happiness. 'It is really _happiness_ which is -produced by the hachisch; and by this simply an enjoyment entirely -moral, and by no means sensual as we might be induced to suppose. This -is surely a very curious circumstance; and some remarkable inferences -might be drawn from it; this, for instance, among others--that every -feeling of joy and gladness, even when the cause of it is exclusively -moral--that those enjoyments which are least connected with material -objects, the most spiritual, the most ideal, may be nothing else than -sensations purely physical, developed in the interior of the system, -as are those procured by hachisch. At least so far as relates to that -of which we are internally conscious, there is no distinction between -these two orders of sensations, in spite of the diversity in the -causes to which they are due; for the hachisch-eater is happy, not like -the gourmand or the famished man when satisfying his appetite, or the -voluptuary in gratifying his amative desires, but like him who hears -tidings which fill him with joy, like the miser counting his treasures, -the gambler who is successful at play, or the ambitious man who is -intoxicated with success.' - -My special object, however, in noting the effects of opium and -hachisch, is rather to note how the mental processes or faculties -observed during certain states of disease may be produced artificially, -than to enter into the considerations discussed by Dr. Moreau. It is -singular that while the Mohamedan order of Hachischin (or Assassins) -bring about by the use of their favourite drug such visions as -accompany the progress of certain forms of disease, the Hindoo devotees -called the Yogi are able to produce artificially the state of mind and -body recognised in cataleptic patients. The less-advanced Yogi can -only enter the state of abstraction called reverie; but the higher -orders can simulate absolute inanition, the heart apparently ceasing -to beat, the lungs to act, and the nerves to convey impressions to -the brain, even though the body be subjected to processes which would -cause extreme torture under ordinary conditions. 'When in this state,' -says Carpenter, 'the Yogi are supposed to be completely possessed by -Brahma, "the supreme soul," and to be incapable of sin in thought, -word, or deed.' It has been supposed that this was the state into which -those entered who in old times were resorted to as oracles. But it has -happened that in certain stages of disease the power of assuming the -death-like state has been possessed for a time. Thus Colonel Townsend, -who died in 1797, we read, had in his last sickness the extraordinary -power of apparently dying and returning to life again at will. 'I found -his pulse sink gradually,' says Dr. Cheyne, who attended him, 'so that -I could not feel it by the most exact or nice touch. Dr. Raymond could -not detect the least motion of the heart, nor Dr. Skrine the least soil -of the breath upon the bright mirror held to the mouth. We began to -fear he was actually dead. He then began to breathe softly.' Colonel -Townsend repeated the experiment several times during his illness, and -could always render himself insensible at will. - -Lastly, I may mention a case, which, however, though illustrating -in some degree the influence of bodily illness on the mind, shows -still more strikingly how the mind may influence the body--that of -Louise Lateau, the Belgian peasant. This girl had been prostrated by -a long and exhausting illness, from which she recovered rapidly after -receiving the sacrament. This circumstance made a strong impression -on her mind. Her thoughts dwelt constantly on the circumstances -attending the death of Christ. At length she noticed that, on every -Friday, blood came from a spot in her left side. 'In the course of a -few months similar bleeding spots established themselves on the front -and back of each hand, and on the upper surface of each foot, while -a circle of small spots formed in the forehead, and the hæmorrhage -from these recurred every Friday, sometimes to a considerable amount. -About the same time, fits of ecstasy began to occur, commencing every -Friday between eight and nine in the morning, and ending about six -in the evening; interrupting her in conversation, in prayer, or in -manual occupations. This state,' says Dr. Carpenter, 'appears to have -been intermediate between that of the biologised and that of the -hypnotised subject; for whilst as unconscious as the latter of all -sense-impressions, she retained, like the former, a recollection of -all that had passed through her mind during the ecstasy. She described -herself as suddenly plunged into a vast flood of bright light, from -which more or less distinct forms began to evolve themselves; and she -then witnessed the several scenes of the Passion successively passing -before her. She minutely described the cross and the vestments, the -wounds, the crown of thorns about the head of the Saviour, and gave -various details regarding the persons about the cross, the disciples, -holy women, Jews and Roman soldiers. And the progress of her vision -might be traced by the succession of actions she performed at various -stages of it: most of these movements were expressive of her own -emotions, whilst regularly about three in the afternoon she extended -her limbs in the form of a cross. The fit terminated with a state of -extreme physical prostration; the pulse being scarcely perceptible, the -breathing slow and feeble, and the whole surface bedewed with a cold -perspiration. After this state had continued for about ten minutes, a -return to the normal condition rapidly took place.' - -There seems no reason for supposing that there was any deceit on the -part of Louise Lateau herself, though that she was self-deceived no -one can reasonably doubt. Of course many in Belgium, especially the -more ignorant and superstitious (including large numbers of the clergy -and of religious orders of men and women), believed that her ecstasies -were miraculous, and no doubt she believed so herself. But none of the -circumstances observed in her case, or related by her, were such as -the physiologist would find any difficulty in accepting or explaining. -Her visions were such as might have been expected in a person of her -peculiar nervous organisation, weakened as her body had been by long -illness, and her mind affected by what she regarded as her miraculous -recovery. As to the transudation of blood from the skin, Dr. Tuke, in -his 'Illustrations of the Influence of the Mind upon the Body in Health -and Disease' (p. 267), shows the phenomenon to be explicable naturally. -It is a well-authenticated fact, that under strong emotional excitement -blood escapes through the perspiratory ducts, apparently through the -rupture of the walls of the capillary passages of the skin. - -We see, then, in Louise Lateau's case, how the mind affected by disease -may acquire faculties not possessed during health, and how in turn the -mind thus affected may influence the body so strangely as to suggest to -ignorant or foolish persons the operation of supernatural agencies. - -The general conclusion to which we seem led by the observed -peculiarities in the mental faculties during disease is, that the -mind depends greatly on the state of the body for the co-ordination -of its various powers. In health, these are related in what may be -called the normal manner. Faculties capable of great development -under other conditions exist in moderate degree only, while probably, -either consciously or unconsciously, certain faculties are held in -control by others. But during illness, faculties not ordinarily used -suddenly or very rapidly acquire undue predominance, and controlling -faculties usually effective are greatly weakened. Then for a while -the mental capacity seems entirely changed. Powers supposed not to -exist at all (for of mental faculties, as of certain other qualities, -_de non existentibus et de non apparentibus eadem est ratio_) seem -suddenly created, as if by a miracle. Faculties ordinarily so strong -as to be considered characteristic seem suddenly destroyed, since they -no longer produce any perceptible effect. Or, as Brown-Sequard says, -summing up the results of a number of illustrative cases described in -a course of lectures delivered in Boston: 'It would seem that the mind -is largely dependent on physical conditions for the exercise of its -faculties, and that its strength and most remarkable powers, as well as -its apparent weakness, are often most clearly shown and recognised by -some inequality of action in periods of disturbed and greatly impaired -health.' - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 20: Since the above was written I have noticed a passage in -Dr. Carpenter's _Mental Physiology_, p. 719, bearing on the matter I -have been dealing with:--'The following statement recently made to me -by a gentleman of high intelligence, the editor of a most important -provincial newspaper, would be almost incredible, if cases somewhat -similar were not already familiar to us:--'I was formerly,' he said, -'a reporter in the House of Commons; and it several times happened -to me that, having fallen asleep from sheer fatigue towards the -end of a debate, I had found, on awaking after a short interval of -entire unconsciousness, that I had continued to note down correctly -the speaker's words.' 'I believe,' he added, 'that this is not an -uncommon experience among Parliamentary reporters.' The reading aloud -with correct emphasis and intonation, or the performance of a piece -of music, or (as in the case of Albert Smith) the recitation of a -frequently repeated composition, whilst the conscious mind is _entirely -engrossed_ in its own thoughts and feelings, may be thus accounted -for without the supposition that the mind is actively engaged in two -different operations at the same moment, which would seem tantamount to -saying that there are two egos in the same organism.' An instance in -my own experience seems even more remarkable than the reporter's work -during sleep, for he had but to continue a mechanical process, whereas -in my case there must have been thought. Late one evening at Cambridge -I began a game of chess with a fellow-student (now a clergyman, and -well known in chess circles). I was tired after a long day's rowing, -but continued the game to the best of my ability, until at a certain -stage I fell asleep, or rather fell into a waking dream. At any rate -all remembrance of what passed after that part of the game had entirely -escaped me when I awoke or returned to consciousness about three in -the morning. The chessboard was there, but the men were not as when -the last conscious move was made. The opponent's king was checkmated. -I supposed my opponent had set the men in this position either as a -joke or in trying over some end game. But I was assured that the game -had continued to the end, and that I had won, apparently playing as if -fully conscious! Of course I cannot certify this of my own knowledge.] - - - - -_DUAL CONSCIOUSNESS._ - - -Rather more than two years ago I considered in the pages of 'Science -Byways' the theory originally propounded by Sir Henry Holland, but -then recently advocated by Dr. Brown-Sequard, of New York, that we -have two brains, each perfectly sufficient for the full performance -of mental functions. I did not for my own part either advocate or -oppose that theory, but simply considered the facts which had been -urged in support of it, or which then occurred to me as bearing upon -it, whether for or against. I showed, however, that some classes of -phenomena which had been quoted in support of the theory seemed in -reality opposed to it, when all the circumstances were considered. For -example, Brown-Sequard had referred to some of those well-known cases -in which during severe illness a language forgotten in the patient's -ordinary condition had been recalled, the recollection of the language -enduring only while the illness lasted. I pointed to a case in which -there had not been two mental conditions only, as indicated by the -language of the patient, but three; the person in question having in -the beginning of his illness spoken English only, in the middle of his -illness French only, and on the day of his death Italian only (the -language of his childhood). The interpretation of that case, and of -others of a similar kind, must, I remarked, be very different from that -which Brown-Sequard assigned, perhaps correctly, 'to cases of twofold -mental life.' A case of the last-named kind has recently been discussed -in scientific circles, which seems to me to bear very forcibly on the -question whether Holland's theory of a dual brain is correct. I propose -briefly to describe and examine this case, and some others belonging to -the same class, two of which were touched upon in my former essay, but -slightly only, as forming but a small part of the evidence dealt with -by Brown-Sequard, whose arguments I was then considering. I wish now to -deal, not with the question of the duality of the brain, but with the -more general question of dual or intermittent consciousness. - -Among the cases dealt with by Brown-Sequard was that of a boy at -Notting Hill, who had two mental lives. Neither life presented -anything specially remarkable in itself. The boy was a well-mannered -lad in his abnormal as well as in his normal condition,--or one might -almost say (as will appear more clearly after other cases have been -considered) that the _two_ boys were quiet and well-behaved. But the -two mental lives were entirely distinct. In his normal condition the -boy remembered nothing which had happened in his abnormal condition; -and _vice versâ_, in his abnormal condition he remembered nothing which -had happened in his normal condition. He changed from either condition -to the other in the same manner. 'The head was seen to fall suddenly, -and his eyes closed, but he remained erect if standing at the time, or -if sitting he remained in that position (if talking, he stopped for a -while, and if moving, he stopped moving); and after a minute or two his -head rose, he started up, opened his eyes, and was wide awake again.' -While the head was drooped he appeared as if either sleeping or falling -asleep. He remained in the abnormal state for a period which varied -between one hour and three hours; it appears that every day, or nearly -every day, he fell once into his abnormal condition. - -This case need not detain us long; but there are some points in it -which deserve more attention than they seem to have received from Dr. -Brown-Sequard. It is clear that if the normal and abnormal mental lives -of this boy had been entirely distinct, then in the abnormal condition -he would have been ignorant and--in those points in which manners -depend on training--ill-mannered. He would have known only, in this -condition, what he had learned in this condition; and as only about -a tenth part of his life was passed in the abnormal condition, and -presumably that portion of his life not usually selected as a suitable -time for teaching him, the abnormal boy would of necessity have been -much more backward in all things which the young are taught than the -normal boy. As nothing of this kind was noted, it would appear probable -that the boy's earlier years were common to both lives, and that his -unconsciousness of his ordinary life during the abnormal condition -extended only to those parts of his ordinary life which had passed -since these seizures began. Unfortunately, Brown-Sequard's account does -not mention when this had happened. - -It does not appear that the dual brain theory is required so far -as this case is concerned. The phenomena seem rather to suggest a -peculiarity in the circulation of the brain corresponding in some -degree to the condition probably prevailing during somnambulism or -hypnotism, though with characteristic differences. It may at least -be said that no more valid reason exists for regarding this boy's -case as illustrating the distinctive duality of the brain than for so -regarding some of the more remarkable cases of somnambulism; for though -these differ in certain respects from the boy's case, they resemble -it in the circumstances on which Brown Sequard's argument is founded. -Speaking generally of hypnotism,--that is, of somnambulism artificially -produced,--Dr. Carpenter says, 'In hypnotism, as in ordinary -somnambulism, no remembrance whatever is preserved, in the waking -state, of anything that may have occurred during its continuance; -although the previous train of thought may be taken up and continued -uninterruptedly on the next occasion when hypnotism is induced.' In -these respects the phenomena of hypnotism precisely resemble those of -dual consciousness as observed in the boy's case. In what follows, we -observe features of divergence. Thus 'when the mind is not excited -to activity by the stimulus of external impressions, the hypnotised -subject appears to be profoundly asleep; a state of complete torpor, -in fact, being usually the first result of the process just described, -and any subsequent manifestation of activity being procurable only by -the prompting of the operator. The hypnotised subject, too, rarely -opens his eyes; his bodily movements are usually slow; his mental -operations require a considerable time for their performance; and there -is altogether an appearance of heaviness about him which contrasts -strongly with the comparatively wide-awake air of him who has not -passed beyond the ordinary biological state.' - -It would not be easy to find an exact parallel to the case of the -two-lived boy in any recorded instance of somnambulism. In fact, it -is to be remembered that recorded instances of mental phenomena are -all selected for the very reason that they are exceptional, so that it -would be unreasonable to expect them closely to resemble each other. -One case, however, may be cited, which in certain points resembles the -case of Dr. Brown-Sequard's patient. It occurred within Dr. Carpenter's -own experience. A young lady of highly nervous temperament suffered -from a long and severe illness, characterised by all the most marked -forms of hysterical disorder. In the course of this illness came a -time when she had a succession of somnambulistic seizures. 'The state -of somnambulism usually supervened in this case in the waking state, -instead of arising, as it more commonly does, out of the conditions -of ordinary sleep. In this condition her ideas were at first entirely -fixed upon one subject--the death of her only brother, which had -occurred some years previously. To this brother she had been very -strongly attached; she had nursed him in his last illness; and it was -perhaps the return of the anniversary of his death, about the time -when the somnambulism first occurred, that gave to her thoughts that -particular direction. She talked constantly of him, retraced all the -circumstances of his illness, and was unconscious of anything that was -said to her which had not reference to this subject.... Although her -eyes were open, she recognised no one in this state,--not even her own -sister, who, it should be mentioned, had not been at home at the time -of her brother's last illness.' (It will presently appear, however, -that she was able to recognise those who were about her during these -attacks, since she retained ill-feeling against one of them; moreover, -the sentences which immediately follow suggest that the sense of sight -was not dormant.) 'It happened on one occasion, that when she passed -into this condition, her sister, who was present, was wearing a locket -containing some of their deceased brother's hair. As soon as she -perceived this locket she made a violent snatch at it, and would not -be satisfied until she had got it into her possession, when she began -to talk to it in the most endearing and even extravagant terms. Her -feelings were so strongly excited on this subject, that it was deemed -prudent to check them; and as she was inaccessible to all entreaties -for the relinquishment of the locket, force was employed to obtain -it from her. She was so determined, however, not to give it up, and -was so angry at the gentle violence used, that it was found necessary -to abandon the attempt, and having become calmer after a time, she -passed off into ordinary sleep. Before going to sleep, however, she -placed the locket under her pillow, remarking, "Now I have hid it -safely, and they shall not take it from me." On awaking in the morning -she had not the slightest consciousness of what had passed; but the -impression of the excited feelings still remained, for she remarked to -her sister, 'I cannot tell what it is that makes me feel so, but every -time that S. comes near me I have a kind of shuddering sensation;' -the individual named being a servant, whose constant attention to her -had given rise to a feeling of strong attachment on the side of the -invalid, but who had been the chief actor in the scene of the previous -evening. This feeling wore off in the course of a day or two. A few -days afterwards the somnambulism again returned; and the patient being -upon her bed at the time, immediately began to search for the locket -under her pillow.' As it had been removed in the interval, 'she was -unable to find it, at which she expressed great disappointment, and -continued searching for it, with the remark, "It _must_ be there--I -put it there myself a few minutes ago, and no one can have taken it -away." In this state the presence of S. renewed her previous feelings -of anger; and it was only by sending S. out of the room that she could -be calmed and induced to sleep. The patient was the subject of many -subsequent attacks, in every one of which the anger against S. revived, -until the current of thought changed, no longer running exclusively -upon what related to her brother, but becoming capable of direction -by _suggestions_ of various kinds presented to her mind, either in -conversation, or, more directly, through the several organs of sense.' - -I have been particular in quoting the above account, because it appears -to me to illustrate well, not only the relation between the phenomena -of dual consciousness and somnambulism, but the dependence of either -class of phenomena on the physical condition. If it should appear that -dual consciousness is invariably associated with some disorder either -of the nervous system or of the circulation, it would be impossible, -or at least very difficult, to maintain Brown-Sequard's explanation of -the boy's case. For one can hardly imagine it possible that a disorder -of the sort should be localised so far as the brain is concerned, while -in other respects affecting the body generally. It so chances that the -remarkable case recently dealt with by French men of science forms a -sort of connecting link between the boy's case and the case just cited. -It closely resembles the former in certain characteristic features, -while it resembles the latter in the evidence which it affords of -the influence of the physical condition on the phenomena of double -consciousness. The original narrative by M. Azam is exceedingly prolix; -but it has been skilfully condensed by Mr. H.J. Slack, in the pages of -a quarterly journal of science. I follow his version in the main. - -The subject of the disorder, Felida X., was born in Bordeaux in 1843. -Until the age of thirteen she differed in no respect from other -girls. But about that time symptoms of hysterical disorder presented -themselves, and although she was free from lung-disease, she was -troubled with frequent spitting of blood. After this had continued -about a year, she for the first time manifested the phenomena of -double consciousness. Sharp pains attacked both temples, and in a -few moments she became unconscious. This lasted ten minutes, after -which she opened her eyes, and entered into what M. Azam calls her -second state, in which she remained for an hour or two, after which -the pains and unconsciousness came on again, and she returned to her -ordinary condition. At intervals of about five or six days, such -attacks were repeated; and her relations noticed that her character -and conduct during her abnormal state were changed. Finding also that -in her usual condition she remembered nothing which had passed when -she was in the other state, they thought she was becoming idiotic; -and presently called in M. Azam, who was connected with a lunatic -asylum. Fortunately, he was not so enthusiastic a student of mental -aberration as to recognise a case for the lunatic asylum in every -instance of phenomenal mental action. He found Felida intelligent, but -melancholy, morose, and taciturn, very industrious, and with a strong -will. She was very anxious about her bodily health. At this time the -mental changes occurred more frequently than before. Nearly every day, -as she sat with her work on her knees, a violent pain shot suddenly -through her temples, her head dropped upon her breast, her arms fell -by her side, and she passed into a sort of sleep, from which neither -noises, pinches, nor pricks could awaken her. This condition lasted -now only two or three minutes. 'She woke up in quite another state, -smiling gaily, speaking briskly, and trilling (_fredonnant_) over her -work, which she recommenced at the point where she left it. She would -get up, walk actively, and scarcely complained of any of the pains -she had suffered from so severely a few minutes before. She busied -herself about the house, paid calls, and behaved like a healthy young -girl of her age. In this state she remembered perfectly all that had -happened in her two conditions.' (In this respect her case is distinct -from both the former, and is quite exceptional. In fact, the inclusion -of the consciousness of both conditions during the continuance of one -condition only, renders her case not, strictly speaking, one of double -consciousness, the two conditions not being perfectly distinct from -each other.) 'In this second life, as in the other, her moral and -intellectual faculties, though different, were incontestably sound. -After a time (which in 1858 lasted three or four hours), her gaiety -disappeared, the torpor suddenly ensued, and in two or three minutes -she opened her eyes and re-entered her ordinary life, resuming any work -she was engaged in just where she left off. In this state she bemoaned -her condition, and was quite unconscious of what had passed in the -previous state. If asked to continue a ballad she had been singing, she -knew nothing about it, and if she had received a visitor, she believed -she had seen no one. The forgetfulness extended to everything which -happened during her second state, and not to any ideas or information -acquired before her illness.' Thus her early life was held in -remembrance during both her conditions, her consciousness in these two -conditions being in this respect single; in her second or less usual -condition she remembered also all the events of her life, including -what had passed since these seizures began; and it was only in her -more usual condition that a portion of her life was lost to her--that, -namely, which had passed during her second condition. In 1858 a new -phenomenon was noticed as occasionally occurring--she would sometimes -wake from her second condition in a fit of terror, recognising no one -but her husband. The terror did not last long, however; and during -sixteen years of her married life, her husband only noticed this terror -on thirty occasions. - -A painful circumstance preceding her marriage somewhat forcibly -exhibited the distinction between her two states of consciousness. -Rigid in morality during her usual condition, she was shocked by the -insults of a brutal neighbour, who told her of a confession made to -M. Azam during her second condition, and accused her of shamming -innocence. The attack--unfortunately, but too well founded as far as -facts were concerned--brought on violent convulsions, which required -medical attendance during two or three hours. It is important to -notice the difference thus indicated between the character of the -personalities corresponding to her two conditions. 'Her moral -faculties,' says M. Azam, 'were incontestably sound in her second life, -though different,'--by which, be it understood, he means simply that -her sense of right and wrong was just during her second condition, -not, of course, that her conduct was irreproachable. She was in this -condition, as in the other, altogether responsible for her actions. -But her power of self-control, or rather perhaps the relative power of -her will as compared with tendencies to wrong-doing, was manifestly -weaker during her second condition. In fact, in one condition she -was oppressed and saddened by pain and anxiety, whereas in the other -she was almost free from pain, gay, light-hearted, and hopeful. Now -I cannot altogether agree with Mr. Slack's remark, that if, during -her second state, 'she had committed a robbery or an assassination, -no moral responsibility could have been assumed to rest upon her with -any certainty, by any one acquainted with her history,' for her moral -faculties in her second condition being incontestably sound, she was -clearly responsible for her actions while in that condition. But -certainly, the question of punishment for such an offence would be not -a little complicated by her twofold personality. To the woman in her -ordinary condition, remembering nothing of the crime committed (on the -supposition we are dealing with), in her abnormal condition, punishment -for that crime would certainly seem unjust, seeing that her liability -to enter into that condition had not in any degree depended on her own -will. The drunkard who, waking in the morning with no recollection -of the events of the past night, finds himself in gaol for some crime -committed during that time, although he may think the punishment he has -to endure severe measure for a crime of which in his ordinary condition -he is incapable, knows at least that he is responsible for placing -himself under that influence which made the crime possible. Supposing -even he had not had sufficient experience of his own character when -under the influence of liquor, to have reason to fear he might be -guilty of the offence, he yet perceives that to make intoxication -under any circumstances an excuse for crime would be most dangerous -to the community, and that he suffers punishment justly. But the case -of dual consciousness is altogether different, and certainly where -responsibility exists under both conditions, while yet impulse and the -restraining power of will are differently related in one and the other -condition, the problem of satisfying justice is a most perplexing one. -Here are in effect two different persons residing in one body, and it -is impossible to punish one without punishing the other also. Supposing -justice waited until the abnormal condition was resumed, then the -offender would probably recognise the justice of punishment; but if the -effects of the punishment continued until the usual condition returned, -a person would suffer who was conscious of no crime. If the offence -were murder, and if capital punishment were inflicted, the ordinary -individuality, innocent entirely of murder, would be extinguished along -with the first, a manifest injustice. As Huxley says of a similar case, -'the problem of responsibility is here as complicated as that of the -prince-bishop, who swore as a prince and not as a bishop. 'But, your -highness, if the prince is damned, what will become of the bishop?' -said the peasant.'[21] - -It does not appear to me that there is in the case of Felida X. any -valid reason for regarding the theory of two brains as the only -available explanation. It is a noteworthy circumstance, that the pains -preceding each change of condition affected both sides of the head. -Some modification of the circulation seems suggested as the true -explanation of the changes in condition, though the precise nature -of such modification, or how it may have been brought about, would -probably be very difficult to determine. The state of health, however, -on which the attacks depended seems to have affected the whole body of -the patient, and the case presents no features suggesting any lateral -localisation of the cerebral changes. - -On the other hand, the case of Sergeant F. (a few of the circumstances -of which were mentioned in my essay entitled 'Have we two Brains?'), -seems to correspond with Dr. Holland's theory, though that theory is -far from explaining all the circumstances. The man was wounded by -a bullet which fractured his _left_ parietal bone, and his _right_ -arm and leg were almost immediately paralysed. When he recovered -consciousness three weeks later, the _right_ side of the body was -completely paralysed, and remained so for a year. These circumstances -indicate that the cause of the mischief still existing lay in the shock -which the left side of the brain received when the man was wounded. -The right side may have learned (as it were) to exercise the functions -formerly belonging to the left side, and thus the paralysis affecting -the right side until this had happened may have passed away. These -points are discussed in the essay above named, however, and need not -here detain us. Others which were not then dealt with may now be -noted with advantage. We would specially note some which render it -doubtful whether in the abnormal condition the man's brain acts at all, -whether in fact his condition, so far as consciousness was concerned, -is not similar to that of a frog deprived of its brain in a certain -well-known experiment. (This appears to be the opinion to which -Professor Huxley inclines, though, with proper scientific caution, he -seems disposed to suspend his judgment.) The facts are very singular, -whatever the explanation may be. - -In the normal condition, the man is what he was before he was -wounded--an intelligent, kindly fellow, performing satisfactorily the -duties of a hospital attendant. The abnormal state is ushered in by -pains in the forehead, as if caused by the constriction of a band of -iron. In this state the eyes are open and the pupils dilated. (The -reader will remember Charles Reade's description of David Dodd's eyes, -'like those of a seal.') The eyeballs work incessantly, and the jaws -maintain a chewing motion. If the man is _en pays de connaissance_, -he walks about as usual; but in a new place, or if obstacles are set -in his way, he stumbles, feels about with his hands, and so finds his -way. He offers no resistance to any forces which may act upon him, -and shows no signs of pain if pins are thrust into his body by kindly -experimenters. No noise affects him. He eats and drinks apparently -without tasting or smelling his food, accepting assafoetida or vinegar -as readily as the finest claret. He is sensible to light only under -certain conditions. But the sense of touch is strangely exalted (in -all respects apparently except as to sensations of pain or pleasure), -taking in fact the place of all the other senses. I say the sense of -touch, but it is not clear whether there is any real sensation at all. -The man appears in the abnormal condition to be a mere machine. This -is strikingly exemplified in the following case, which I translate -directly from Dr. Mesnet's account:--'He was walking in the garden -under a group of trees, and his stick, which he had dropped a few -minutes before, was placed in his hands. He feels it, moves his hand -several times along the bent handle of the stick, becomes watchful, -seems to listen, suddenly he calls out, "Henry!" then, "There they are! -there are at least a score of them! join us two, we shall manage it." -And then putting his hand behind his back as if to take a cartridge, -he goes through the movement of loading his weapon, lays himself -flat on the grass, his head concealed by a tree, in the posture of a -sharpshooter, and with shouldered weapon follows all the movements of -the enemy whom he fancies he sees at a short distance.' This, however, -is an assumption: the man cannot in this state _fancy_ he sees, unless -he has at least a recollection of the sensation of sight, and this -would imply cerebral activity. Huxley, more cautious, says justly -that the question arises 'whether the series of actions constituting -this singular pantomime was accompanied by the ordinary states of -consciousness or not? Did the man dream that he was skirmishing? or was -he in the condition of one of Vaucanson's automata--a mechanism worked -by molecular changes in his nervous system? The analogy of the frog -shows that the latter assumption is perfectly justifiable.' - -The pantomimic actions just related corresponded to what probably -happened a few moments before the man was wounded; but this human -automaton (so to call him, without theorising as to his actual -condition) goes through other performances. He has a good voice, and -was at one time a singer in a _café_. 'In one of his abnormal states he -was observed to begin humming a tune. He then went to his room, dressed -himself carefully, and took up some parts of a periodical novel which -lay on his bed, as if he were trying to find something. Dr. Mesnet, -suspecting that he was seeking his music, made up one of these into a -roll and put it into his hand. He appeared satisfied, took up his cane -and went downstairs to the door. Here Dr. Mesnet, turned him round, and -he walked quite contentedly in the opposite direction, towards the room -of the _concierge_. The light of the sun shining through a window now -happened to fall upon him, and seemed to suggest the footlights of the -stage on which he was accustomed to make his appearance. He stopped, -opened his roll of imaginary music, put himself into the attitude of a -singer, and sung, with perfect execution, three songs, one after the -other. After which he wiped his face with his handkerchief and drank, -without a grimace, a tumbler of strong vinegar and water which was put -into his hand.' - -But the most remarkable part of the whole story is that which follows. -'Sitting at a table in one of his abnormal states, Sergeant F. took -up a pen, felt for paper and ink, and began to write a letter to his -general, in which he recommended himself for a medal on account of -his good conduct and courage.' (Rather a strange thing, by the way, -for a mere automaton to do.) 'It occurred to Dr. Mesnet to ascertain -experimentally how far vision was concerned in this act of writing. He -therefore interposed a screen between the man's eyes and his hands; -under these circumstances, F. went on writing for a short time, but the -words became illegible, and he finally stopped, without manifesting -any discontent. On the withdrawal of the screen, he began to write -again where he had left off. The substitution of water for ink in the -inkstand had a similar result. He stopped, looked at his pen, wiped it -on his coat, dipped it in the water, and began again with a similar -result. On another occasion, he began to write upon the topmost of -ten superimposed sheets of paper. After he had written a line or two, -this sheet was suddenly drawn away. There was a slight expression of -surprise, but he continued his letter on the second sheet exactly as if -it had been the first. This operation was repeated five times, so that -the fifth sheet contained nothing but the writer's signature at the -bottom of the page. Nevertheless, when the signature was finished, his -eyes turned to the top of the blank sheet, and he went through the form -of reading what he had written--a movement of the lips accompanying -each word; moreover, with his pen, he put in such corrections as were -needed, in that part of the blank page which corresponded with the -position of the words which required correction in the sheets which had -been taken away. If the five sheets had been transparent, therefore, -they would, when superposed, have formed a properly written and -corrected letter. Immediately after he had written his letter, F. got -up, walked down to the garden, made himself a cigarette, lighted and -smoked it. He was about to prepare another, but sought in vain for his -tobacco-pouch, which had been purposely taken away. The pouch was now -thrust before his eyes and put under his nose, but he neither saw nor -smelt it; when, however, it was placed in his hand, he at once seized -it, made a fresh cigarette, and ignited a match to light the latter. -The match was blown out, and another lighted match placed close before -his eyes, but he made no attempt to take it; and if his cigarette was -lighted for him, he made no attempt to smoke. All this time his eyes -were vacant, and neither winked nor exhibited any contraction of the -pupil.' - -These and other similar experiments are explained by Dr. Mesnet (and -Professor Huxley appears to agree with him) by the theory that F. 'sees -some things and not others; that the sense of sight is accessible to -all things which are brought into relation with him by the sense of -touch, and, on the contrary, insensible to all things which lie outside -this relation.' It seems to me that the evidence scarcely supports -this conclusion. In every case where F. appears to see, it is quite -possible that in reality he is guided entirely by the sense of touch. -All the circumstances accord much better with this explanation than -with the theory that the sense of sight was in any way affected. Thus -the sunlight shining through the window must have affected the sense of -touch, and in a manner similar to what F. had experienced when before -the footlights of the stage, where he was accustomed to appear as a -singer. In this respect there was a much closer resemblance between -the effect of sunlight and that of the light from footlights, than in -the circumstances under which both sources of light affect the sense -of sight. For in one case the light came from above, in the other from -below; the heat would in neither case be sensibly localised. Again, -when a screen was interposed between his eyes and the paper on which -he was writing, he probably became conscious of its presence in the -same way that a blind man is conscious of the presence of objects near -him, even (in some cases) of objects quite remote, by some subtle -effects discernible by the sense of touch excited to abnormal relative -activity in the absence of impressions derived from the sense of -sight. It is true that one might have expected him to continue writing -legibly, notwithstanding the interposed screen; but the consciousness -of the existence of what in his normal condition would effectually -have prevented his writing legibly, would be sufficient to explain -his failure. If, while in full possession of all our senses, the -expectation of failure quite commonly causes failure, how much more -likely would this be to happen to a man in F.'s unfortunate abnormal -condition. The sense of touch again would suffice to indicate the -presence of water instead of ink in his pen when he was writing. I -question whether the difference might not be recognised by any person -of sensitive touch after a little practice; but certainly a blind -man, whose sense of touch was abnormally developed, would recognise -the difference, as we know from experiments which have indicated even -greater delicacy of perception than would be required for this purpose. -The experiment with superposed sheets of paper is more remarkable than -any of the others, but certainly does not suggest that light makes -any impression upon Sergeant F. It proves, in fact, so far as any -experiment could prove such a point, that the sense of touch alone -regulates the man's movements. Unconscious of any change (because, -after the momentary surprise produced by the withdrawal of the paper, -he still found he had paper to write on), he continued writing. He -certainly did not in this case, as Dr. Mesnet suggests, see all things -which are brought into relation with him by the sense of touch; for if -he had, he would not have continued to write when he found the words -already written no longer discernible. - -On the whole, it appears reasonable to conclude, as Professor Huxley -does, that though F. may be conscious in his abnormal state, he may -also be a mere automaton for the time being. The only circumstance -which seems to oppose itself very markedly to the latter view is the -letter-writing. Everything else that this man did was what he had -already done prior to the accident. If it could be shown that the -letters written in his abnormal state were transcripts, not merely -_verbatim et literatim_, but exact in every point, of some which he -had written before he was wounded, then a strong case would be made -out for the automaton theory. Certainly, few instances have come under -the experience of scientific men where a human being has so closely -resembled a mere machine as this man appears to do in his abnormal -condition. - -The moral nature of F. in his abnormal condition is for this reason -a matter of less interest than it would be, did he show more of the -semblance of conscious humanity. Still it is worthy of notice, that, -whereas in his normal condition he is a perfectly honest man, in -his abnormal state 'he is an inveterate thief, stealing and hiding -away whatever he can lay hands on with much dexterity, and with an -absolutely absurd indifference as to whether the property is his own or -not.' - -It will be observed that the cases of dual consciousness thus far -considered, though alike in some respects, present characteristic -divergences. In that of the boy at Norwood, the two characters were -very similar, so far as can be judged, and each life was distinct -from the other. The next case was only introduced to illustrate the -resemblance in certain respects between the phenomena of somnambulism -and those of double or rather alternating consciousness. The woman -Felida X. changed markedly in character when she passed from one state -to the other. Her case was also distinguished from that of the boy by -the circumstance that in one state she was conscious of what had passed -in the other, but while in this other state was unconscious of what -had passed in the former. Lastly, in Sergeant F.'s case we have to -deal with the effect of an injury to the brain, and find a much greater -difference between the two conditions than in the other cases. Not only -does the man change in character, but it may justly be said that he is -little more than an animal, even if he can be regarded as more than a -mere automaton while in the abnormal condition. We find that a similar -variety characterises other stories of double consciousness. Not only -are no two cases closely alike, but no case has been noted which has -not been distinguished by some very marked feature from all others. - -Thus, although in certain respects the case we have next to consider -resembles very significantly the case of Sergeant F., it also has a -special significance of its own, and may help us to interpret the -general problem presented to us by the phenomena of dual consciousness. -I abridge, and in some respects simplify, the account given by Dr. -Carpenter in his interesting treatise on _Mental Physiology_. Comments -of my own are distinguished from the abridged narrative by being placed -within brackets:-- - -A young woman of robust constitution had narrowly escaped drowning. -She was insensible for six hours, and continued unwell after being -restored to animation. Ten days later she was seized with a fit of -complete stupor, which lasted four hours; when she opened her eyes she -seemed to recognise no one, and appeared to be utterly deprived of -the senses of hearing, taste, and smell, as well as of the power of -speech. Sight and touch remained, but though movements were excited -and controlled by these senses, they seemed to arouse no ideas in her -mind. In fact, her mental faculties seemed entirely suspended. Her -vision at short distances was quick, and the least touch startled her; -but unless she was touched or an object were placed where she could not -help seeing it, she took no notice of what was passing around her. [It -does not appear to me certain that at this stage of her illness she -_saw_ in the ordinary sense of the word; the sense of touch may alone -have been affected, as it certainly is affected to some degree by any -object so placed that _it could not but be seen by a short-sighted -person_. But it is clear that later the sense of sight was restored, -supposing, which is not perhaps probable, that it was ever lost in -the early stage.] She did not even know her own mother, who attended -constantly upon her. Wherever she was placed she remained. Her appetite -was good, but [like F.] she ate indifferently whatever she was fed -with, and took nauseous medicines as readily as agreeable food. Her -movements were solely of the automatic kind. Thus, she swallowed food -put into her mouth, but made no effort to feed herself. Yet when her -mother had conveyed the spoon [in the patient's hand] a few times to -her mouth, the patient continued the operation. It was necessary, -however, to repeat this lesson every time she was fed, showing the -complete absence of memory. 'The very limited nature of her faculties, -and the automatic life she was leading, appear further evident from the -following particulars. One of her first acts on recovering from the -fit had been to busy herself in picking the bedclothes; and as soon -as she was able to sit up and be dressed, she continued the habit by -incessantly picking some portion of her dress. She seemed to want an -occupation for her fingers, and accordingly part of an old straw bonnet -was given to her, which she pulled into pieces with great minuteness; -she was afterwards bountifully supplied with roses: she picked off the -leaves, and then tore them up into the smallest particles imaginable. -A few days subsequently, she began forming upon the table, out of -those minute particles, rude figures of roses, and other common garden -flowers; she had never received any instructions in drawing. Roses -not being so plentiful in London, waste paper and a pair of scissors -were put into her hand, and for some days she found an occupation in -cutting the paper into shreds; after a time these cuttings assumed rude -shapes and figures, and more particularly the shapes used in patchwork. -At length she was supplied with proper materials for patchwork, and -after some initiatory instruction, she took to her needle and to this -employment in good earnest. She now laboured incessantly at patchwork -from morning till night, and on Sundays and week-days, for she knew no -difference of days; nor could she be made to comprehend the difference. -She had no remembrance from day to day of what she had been doing on -the previous day, and so every morning commenced _de novo_. Whatever -she began, that she continued to work at while daylight lasted; -manifesting no uneasiness for anything to eat or drink, taking not the -slightest heed of anything which was going on around her, but intent -only on her patchwork.' From this time she began to improve, learning -like a child to register ideas. She presently learned worsted-work, -and showed delight in the harmony of colours and considerable taste in -selecting between good and bad patterns. After a while she began to -devise patterns of her own. But she still had no memory from day to day -of what she had done, and unless the unfinished work of one day was set -before her on the next, she would begin something new. - -And now, for the first time, ideas derived from her life before her -illness seemed to be awakened within her. When pictures of flowers, -trees, and animals were shown her, she was pleased; but when she -was shown a landscape in which there was a river or a troubled sea, -she became violently agitated, and a fit of spasmodic rigidity and -insensibility immediately followed. The mere sight of water in motion -made her shudder. Again, from an early stage of her illness she had -derived pleasure from the proximity of a young man to whom she had been -attached. At a time when she did not remember from one hour to another -what she was doing, she would anxiously await his evening visit, and -be fretful if he failed to pay it. When, during her removal to the -country, she lost sight of him, she became unhappy and suffered from -frequent fits; on the other hand, when he remained constantly near her, -she improved in health, and early associations were gradually awakened. - -At length a day came when she uttered her first word in this her second -life. She had learned to take heed of objects and persons around her; -and on one occasion, seeing her mother excessively agitated, she became -excited herself, and suddenly, yet hesitatingly, exclaimed, 'What's the -matter?' After this she began to articulate a few words. For a time she -called every object and person 'this,' then gave their right names to -wild flowers (of which she had been passionately fond when a child), -and this 'at a time when she exhibited not the least recollection of -the "old familiar friends and places" of her childhood.' The gradual -expansion of her intellect was manifested chiefly at this time in signs -of emotional excitement, frequently followed by attacks of spasmodic -rigidity and insensibility. - -It was through the emotions that the patient was restored to the -consciousness of her former self. She became aware that her lover -was paying attention to another woman, and the emotion of jealousy -was so strongly excited, that she had a fit of insensibility which -resembled her first attack in duration and severity. But it restored -her to herself. 'When the insensibility passed off, she was no longer -spell-bound. The veil of oblivion was withdrawn; and, as if awakening -from a sleep of twelve months' duration, she found herself surrounded -by her grandfather, grandmother, and their familiar friends and -acquaintances. She awoke in the possession of her natural faculties and -former knowledge; but without the slightest remembrance of anything -which had taken place in the year's interval, from the invasion of -the first fit to the [then] present time. She spoke, but she heard -not; she was still deaf, but being able to read and write as formerly, -she was no longer cut off from communication with others. From this -time she rapidly improved, but for some time continued deaf. She soon -perfectly understood by the motion of her lips what her mother said; -they conversed with facility and quickness together, but she did not -understand the language of the lips of a stranger. She was completely -unaware of the change in her lover's affections which had taken -place in her state of second consciousness; and a painful explanation -was necessary. This, however, she bore very well; and she has since -recovered her previous bodily and mental health. - -There is little in this interesting narrative to suggest that the -duality of consciousness in this case was in any way dependent on the -duality of the brain. During the patient's abnormal condition, the -functions of the brain [proper] would seem to have been for a time -in complete abeyance, and then to have been gradually restored. One -can perceive no reason for supposing that the shock she had sustained -would affect one side rather than the other side of the brain, nor why -her recovery should restore one side to activity and cause the side -which (on the dual brain hypothesis) had been active during her second -condition to resume its original activity. The phenomena appear to -suggest that in some way the molecular arrangement of the brain matter -became modified during her second condition; and that when the original -arrangement was restored all recognisable traces of impressions -received while the abnormal arrangement lasted were obliterated. As Mr. -Slack presents one form of this idea, 'the grey matter of the brain may -have its molecules arranged in patterns somewhat analogous to those -of steel filings under the influence of a magnet, but in some way the -direction of the forces--or vibrations--may be changed in them. The -pattern will then be different.' We know certainly that thought and -sensation depend on material processes,--chemical reactions between -the blood and the muscular tissues. Without the free circulation of -blood in the brain, there can be neither clear thought nor ready -sensation. With changes in the nature of the circulation come changes -in the quality of thought and the nature of sensation, and with them -the emotions are changed also. Such changes affect all of us to some -degree. It may well be that such cases as we have been dealing with are -simply instances of the exaggerated operation of causes with which we -are all familiar; and it may also be that in the exaggeration itself -of these causes of change lies the explanation of the characteristic -peculiarity of cases of dual consciousness,--the circumstances, namely, -that either the two states of consciousness are absolutely distinct -one from the other, or that in one state only are events remembered -which happened in the other, no recollection whatever remaining in this -latter state of what happened in the other, or, lastly, that only faint -impressions excited by some intense emotion experienced in one state -remain in the other state. - -It seems possible, also, that some cases of another kind may find -their explanation in this direction, as, for instance, cases in which, -through some strange sympathy, the brain of one person so responds to -the thoughts of another that for the time being the personality of the -person thus influenced may be regarded as in effect changed into that -of the person producing the influence. Thus, in one singular case cited -by Dr. Carpenter, a lady was 'metamorphosed into the worthy clergyman -on whose ministry she attended, and with whom she was personally -intimate. I shall never forget,' he says, 'the intensity of the -lackadaisical tone in which she replied to the matrimonial counsels of -the physician to whom he (she) had been led to give a long detail of -his (her) hypochondriacal symptoms: "A wife for a dying man, doctor." -No _intentional_ simulation could have approached the exactness of the -imitation alike in tone, manners, and language, which spontaneously -proceeded from the idea with which the fair subject was possessed, -that she herself experienced all the discomforts whose detail she had -doubtless frequently heard from the real sufferer.' The same lady, at -Dr. Carpenter's request, mentally 'ascended in a balloon and proceded -to the North Pole in search of Sir John Franklin, whom she found alive, -and her description of his appearance and that of his companions was -given with an inimitable expression of sorrow and pity.' - -It appears to us that very great interest attaches to the researches -made by Prof. Barrett into cases of this kind, and that it is in -this direction we are to look for the explanation of many mysterious -phenomena formerly regarded as supernatural, but probably all -admitting (at least all that have been properly authenticated) of -being interpreted so soon as the circumstances on which consciousness -depends shall have been determined. Thus the following account of -experiments made at the village school in Westmeath seem especially -suggestive: 'Selecting some of the village children, and placing them -in a quiet room, giving each some small object to look at steadily, -he found one amongst the number who readily passed into a state of -reverie. In that state the subject could be made to believe the most -extravagant statements, such as that the table was a mountain, a -chair a pony, a mark on the floor, an insuperable obstacle. The girl -thus mesmerised passed on the second occasion into a state of deeper -sleep or trance, wherein no sensation whatever was experienced, unless -accompanied by pressure on the eyebrows of the subject. When the -pressure of the fingers was removed, the girl fell back in her chair -utterly unconscious of all around, and had lost all control over her -voluntary muscles. On reapplying the pressure, though her eyes remained -closed, she sat up and answered questions readily, but the manner in -which she answered them, her acts and expressions, were capable of -wonderful diversity, by merely altering the place on the head where the -pressure was applied. So sudden and marked were the changes produced -by a movement of the fingers, that the operation seemed very like -playing on some musical instrument. On a third occasion the subject, -after passing through these, which have been termed the biological -and phrenological states, became at length keenly and wonderfully -sensitive to the voice and acts of the operator. It was impossible for -the latter to call the girl by her name, however faintly and inaudibly -to those around, without at once eliciting a prompt response. If the -operator tasted, smelt, or touched anything, or experienced any sudden -sensation of warmth or cold, a corresponding effect was produced on -the subject, though nothing was said, nor could the subject have seen -what had occurred to the operator. To be assured of this he bandaged -the girl's eyes with great care, and the operator having gone behind -the girl to the other end of the room, he watched him and the girl, and -repeatedly assured himself of this fact.' Thus far, Professor Barrett's -observations, depending in part on what the operator experienced, may -be open to just so much doubt as may affect our opinion of the veracity -of a person unknown; but in what follows we have his own experience -alone to consider. 'Having mesmerised the girl himself, he took a card -at random from a pack which was in a drawer in another room. Glancing -at the card to see what it was, he placed it within a book, and in that -state brought it to the girl. Giving her the closed book, he asked -her to tell him what he had put within its leaves. She held the book -close to the side of her head, and said, 'I see something inside with -red spots on it; and she afterwards said there were five red spots on -it. The card was the five of diamonds. The same result occurred with -another card; and when an Irish bank-note was substituted for the card, -she said, 'Oh, now I see a number of heads--so many that I cannot -count them.' He found that she sometimes failed to guess correctly, -asserting that the things were dim; and she could give no information -of what was within the book unless he had previously known what it -was himself. More remarkable still, he asked her to go in imagination -to Regent Street, in London, and tell him what shops she had seen. -The girl had never been out of her remote village, but she correctly -described to him Mr. Ladd's shop, of which he happened to be thinking, -and mentioned the large clock that overhangs the entrance to Beak -Street. In many other cases he convinced himself that the existence of -a distinct idea in his own mind gave rise to an image of the idea (that -is, to a corresponding image) on the mind of the subject; not always -a clear image, but one that could not fail to be recognised as a more -or less distorted reflection of his own thought.' It is important to -notice the limit which a scientific observer thus recognised in the -range of the subjects' perception. It has been stated that subjects -in this condition have been able to describe occurrences not known to -any person, which yet have been subsequently verified. Although some -narratives of the kind have come from persons not likely to relate -what they _knew_ to be untrue, the possibility of error outweighs the -probability that such narratives can really be true. There is a form -of unconscious cerebration by which untruthful narratives come to be -concocted in the mind. For instance, Dr. Carpenter heard a scrupulously -conscientious lady asseverate that a table 'rapped' when nobody was -within a yard of it; but the story was disproved by the lady herself, -who found from her note-book, recording what really took place, that -the hands of six persons rested on the table when it rapped. And apart -from the unconscious fiction-producing power of the mind, there is -always the possibility, nay, often the extreme probability, that the -facts of a case may be misunderstood. Persons may be supposed to know -nothing about an event who have been conscious of its every detail; -nay, a person may himself be unconscious of his having known, and in -fact of his really knowing, of a particular event. Dual consciousness -in this particular sense is a quite common experience, as, for -instance, when a story is told us which we receive at first as new, -until gradually the recollection dawns upon us and becomes momentarily -clearer and clearer, not only that we have heard it before, but of the -circumstances under which we heard it, and even of details which the -narrator from whom a few moments before we receive it as a new story -has omitted to mention.[22] - -The most important of all the questions depending on dual consciousness -is one into which I could not properly enter at any length in these -pages--the question, namely, of the relation between the condition of -the brain and responsibility, whether such responsibility be considered -with reference to human laws or to a higher and all-knowing tribunal. -But there are some points not wanting in interest which may be here -more properly considered. - -In the first place it is to be noticed that a person who has passed -into a state of abnormal consciousness, or who is in the habit of doing -so, can have no knowledge of the fact in his normal condition except -from the information of others. The boy at Norwood might be told of -what he had said and done while in his less usual condition, but so -far as any experience of his own was concerned, he might during all -that time have been in a profound sleep. Similarly of all the other -cases. So that we have here the singular circumstance to consider, that -a person may have to depend on the information of others respecting -his own behaviour--not during sleep or mental aberration or ordinary -absence of mind--but (in some cases at least) while in possession of -all his faculties and unquestionably responsible for his actions. Not -only might a person find himself thus held responsible for actions -of which he had no knowledge, and perhaps undeservedly blamed or -condemned, but he might find himself regarded as untruthful because of -his perfectly honest denial of all knowledge of the conduct attributed -to him. If such cases were common, again, it would not improbably -happen that the simulation of dual consciousness would become a -frequent means of attempting to evade responsibility. - -Another curious point to be noticed is this. Supposing one subject -to alternations of consciousness were told that in his abnormal -condition he suffered intense pain or mental anguish in consequence -of particular actions during his normal state, how far would he be -influenced to refrain from such actions by the fear of causing pain -or sorrow to his 'double,' a being of whose pains and sorrows, nay, -of whose very existence, he was unconscious? In ordinary life a man -refrains from particular actions which have been followed by unpleasant -consequences, reasoning, in some cases, 'I will not do so-and-so, -because I suffered on such and such occasions when I did so' (we set -religious considerations entirely on one side by assuming that the -particular actions are not contrary to any moral law), in others, 'I -will not do so-and-so because my so doing on former occasions has -caused trouble to my friend A or B:' but it is strange to imagine any -one reasoning, 'I will not do so-and-so because my so doing on former -occasions has caused my second self to experience pain and anguish, -of which I myself have not the slightest recollection.' A man may -care for his own well-being, or be unwilling to bring trouble on his -friends, but who is that second self that his troubles should excite -the sympathy of his fellow-consciousness? The considerations here -touched on are not so entirely beyond ordinary experience as might be -supposed. It may happen to any man to have occasion to enter into an -apparently unconscious condition during which in reality severe pains -may be suffered by another self, though on his return to his ordinary -condition no recollection of those pains may remain, and though to all -appearance he has been all the time in a state of absolute stupor; and -it may be a reasonable question, not perhaps whether he or his double -shall suffer such pains, but whether the body which both inhabit will -suffer while he is unconscious, or while that other consciousness comes -into existence. That this is no imaginary supposition is shown by -several cases in Abercrombie's treatise on the 'Intellectual Powers.' -Take, for instance, the following narrative:--'A boy,' he tells us, 'at -the age of four suffered fracture of the skull, for which he underwent -the operation of the trepan. He was at the time in a state of perfect -stupor, and after his recovery retained no recollection either of the -accident or of the operation. At the age of fifteen, however, during -the delirium of fever, he gave his mother an account of the operation, -and the persons who were present at it, with a correct description of -their dress, and other minute particulars. He had never been observed -to allude to it before; and no means were known by which he could -have acquired the circumstances which he mentioned.' Suppose one day -a person in the delirium of fever or under some other exciting cause -should describe the tortures experienced during some operation, when, -under the influence of anæsthetics, he had appeared to all around to be -totally unconscious, dwelling in a special manner perhaps on the horror -of pains accompanied by utter powerlessness to shriek or groan, or even -to move; how far would the possibilities suggested by such a narrative -influence one who had a painful operation to undergo, knowing as he -would quite certainly, that whatever pains his _alter ego_ might have -to suffer, not the slightest recollection of them would remain in his -ordinary condition? - -There is indeed almost as strange a mystery in unconsciousness as there -is in the phenomena of dual consciousness. The man who has passed for -a time into unconsciousness through a blow, or fall, or fit, cannot -help asking himself like Bernard Langdon in that weird tale, Elsie -Venner, 'Where was the mind, the soul, the thinking principle all that -time?' It is irresistibly borne in upon him that he has been dead for -a time. As Holmes reasons, 'a man is stunned by a blow and becomes -unconscious, another gets a harder blow and it kills him. Does he -become unconscious too? If so, _when_, and _how does he come to his -consciousness_? The man who has had a slight and moderate blow comes -to himself when the immediate shock passes off and the organs begin to -work again, or when a bit of the skull is "pried" up, if that happens -to be broken. Suppose the blow is hard enough to spoil the brain and -stop the play of the organs, what happens then?' So far as physical -science is concerned, there is no answer to this question; but physical -science does not as yet comprehend all the knowable, and the knowable -comprehends not all that has been, is, and will be. What we know and -can know is nothing, the unknown and the unknowable are alike infinite. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 21: Should any doubt whether these conditions of dual -existence are a reality (a doubt, however, which the next case dealt -with in the text should remove), we would remind them that a similar -difficulty unmistakably existed in the case of Eng and Chang, the -Siamese twins. It would have been almost impossible to inflict any -punishment on one by which the other would not have suffered, and -capital punishment inflicted on one would have involved the death of -the other.] - -[Footnote 22: An instance of the sort turns up in Pope's correspondence -with Addison, and serves to explain a discrepancy between Tickell's -edition of the _Spectator_ and the original. In No. 253, Addison had -remarked that none of the critics had taken notice of a peculiarity in -the description of Sisyphus lifting his stone up the hill, which is -no sooner carried to the top of it but it immediately tumbles to the -bottom. 'This double motion,' says Addison, 'is admirably described -in the numbers of those verses. In the four first it is heaved up by -several spondees intermixed with proper breathing places, and at last -trundles down in a continual line of dactyls.' On this Pope remarks: -'I happened to find the same in Dionysius of Halicarnassus's Treatise, -who treats very largely upon these verses. I know you will think fit to -soften your expression, when you see the passage, which you must needs -have read, though it be since slipt out of your memory.' These words, -by the way, were the last (except 'I am, with the utmost esteem, &c.') -ever addressed by Pope to Addison. It was in this letter that Pope -with sly malice asked Addison to look over the first two books of his -(Pope's) translation of Homer.] - - - - -_ELECTRIC LIGHTING._ - - -Although we certainly have no reason to complain of the infrequency -of attempts in newspapers, &c., as well as in scientific journals, to -explain the principles on which electric lighting depends, it does -not seem that very clear ideas are entertained on this subject by -unscientific persons. Nor is this, perhaps, to be wondered at, when -we observe that in nearly all the explanations which have appeared, -technical expressions are quite freely used, while those matters -about which the general reader especially desires information are -passed over as points with which every one is familiar. Now, without -going quite so far as to say that there is no exaggeration in the -picture presented some time back in _Punch_, of one who asked whether -the electric fluid was 'anything like beer, for instance,' I may -confidently assert that the very vaguest notions are entertained by -nine-tenths of those who hear about the electric light, respecting -the nature of electricity. Of course, I am not here referring to the -doubts and difficulties of electricians on this subject. It is well -known that Faraday, after a life of research into electrical phenomena, -said that when he had studied electricity for a few years he thought -he understood much, but when he had nearly finished his observational -work he found he knew nothing. In the sense in which Faraday spoke, the -most advanced students of science must admit that they know nothing -about electricity. But the greater number of those who read about -the electric light are not familiar even with electrical phenomena, -as distinguished from the interpretation of such phenomena. I am -satisfied that there is no exaggeration in a passage which appeared -recently in the 'Table Talk' of the _Gentleman's Magazine_, describing -an account of the electric light as obtained from some new kind of gas, -carried in pipes from central reservoirs, and chiefly differing from -common gas in this, that the heat resulting from its consumption melted -ordinary burners, so that only burners of carbon or platinum could be -safely employed. - -I do not propose here to discuss, or even to describe (in the proper -sense of the word) the various methods of electric lighting which -have been either used or suggested. What I wish to do is to give a -simple explanation of the general principles on which illumination by -electricity depends, and to consider the advantages which this method -of illumination appears to promise or possess. - -Novel as the idea of using electricity for illuminating large spaces -may appear to many, we have all of us been long familiar with the -fact that electricity is capable of replacing the darkness of night -by the light of broad day over areas far larger than those which our -electricians hope to illuminate. The lightning flash makes in an -instant every object visible on the darkest night, not only in the -open air, but in the interior of carefully darkened rooms. Nay, even -if the shutters of a room are carefully closed and the room strongly -illuminated, the lightning flash can yet be clearly recognised. -And it must be remembered that though the suddenness of the flash -makes us the more readily perceive it (under such circumstances, for -instance), yet its short duration diminishes its apparent intensity. -This may appear a contradiction in terms, but is not so in reality. The -perception that there has been a sudden lighting up of the sky or of a -room, is distinct from the recognition of the actual intensity of the -illumination thus momentarily produced. Now it is quite certain that -the eye cannot assign less than a twenty-fifth of a second or so to the -duration of the lightning flash, for, as Newton long since showed, the -retina retains the sensation of light for at least this interval after -the light has disappeared. It is equally certain, from Wheatstone's -experiments, that the lightning flash does not actually endure for the -100,000th part of a second. Adopting this last number, though it falls -far short of the truth--the actual duration being probably less than -1,000,000th of a second--we see that so far as the eye is concerned, an -amount of light which was really emitted during the 100,000th part of -a second is by the eye judged to have been emitted during an interval -4,000 times as long. It is certain, then, that the eye's estimate of -the intensity of the illumination resulting from a lightning flash is -far short of the truth. This is equally true even in those cases where -lightning is said to be for awhile continuous. If the flashes for a -time succeed each other at less intervals than a twenty-fifth of a -second, the illumination will appear continuous. But it is not really -so. To be so, the flashes should succeed each other at the rate of at -least 100,000, and probably of more than 1,000,000 per second. - -While the lightning flash shows the brilliancy which the electric -illumination can attain, it shows also the intense heat resulting from -the electric discharge. This might, indeed, be inferred simply from the -brilliancy of the light, since we know that this brilliancy can only be -due to the intense heat to which the particles along the track of the -electric flash have been raised. But it is shown in a more convincing -manner to ordinary apprehension by the effects which the lightning -flash produces where--in the common way of speaking--it strikes. The -least fusible substances are melted. Effects are produced also which, -though at first not seemingly attributable to intense heat, yet in -reality can be no otherwise explained. Thus, when the trunk of a tree -is torn into fragments by the lightning stroke, though the tree is -scorched and blackened, a small amount of heat would account for that -particular effect, while the destruction of the tree seems attributable -to mechanical causes. It is, indeed, from effects such as these that -the idea of the fall of thunderbolts has doubtless had its origin, -the notion being that some material substance has struck the body thus -shattered or destroyed. In reality, however, such destructive effects -are due entirely to the intense heat excited during the passage of -the electricity. Thus, in the case of a tree destroyed by lightning, -the shattering of boughs and trunk results from the sudden conversion -of the moisture of the tree (that is, the moisture present in the -substance of the tree) into steam, a change accompanied of course by -great and sudden expansion. The tree is as certainly destroyed by the -effects of heat as is a boiler which has burst, though in each case the -expansive power of steam directly works the mischief. - -It is the more useful for our present purpose thus to note at the -outset both the illuminating and the heating power of the lightning -flash (or rather of the electric discharge), because, as will presently -be seen, the electric light, while in all cases depending on intensity -of heat, may either be obtained in the form of a series of flashes -succeeding each other so quickly as to be to all intents and purposes -continuous, or from the incandescence of some suitable substance in the -path of the electric current. - -Let us now consider briefly the general nature of electrical phenomena, -or at least of those electrical phenomena which are related to our -present subject. - -Formerly, when light was supposed to be a material emanation, and -heat was regarded as an actual fluid, electricity was in like manner -regarded as some subtle fluid which could be generated or dispersed -in various ways. At present, it is safer to speak of electricity -as a state or condition of matter. If it were not that some very -eminent electricians (and one especially whose eminence as a practical -electrician is very great) are said to believe still that there is such -a thing as an electric fluid, we should have simply asserted that in -the present position of scientific research, with the known velocity -at which the so-called electric current flows, and the known relations -between electricity, heat, and light, the theory of an electric fluid -is altogether untenable. It will suffice, however, under the actual -circumstances, to speak simply of electrical properties, without -expressing any definite opinion respecting their interpretation. - -A certain property, called electricity, is excited in any substance by -any cause affecting the condition of the substance, whether that cause -be mechanical, chemical, thermal, or otherwise. No change can take -place in the physical condition of any body without the generation of -a greater or less amount of electricity, although in far the greater -number of cases there may be no obvious evidence of the fact, while in -many cases no evidence may be obtainable even by the use of the most -delicate scientific tests. - -I have spoken here of the generation of a greater or less amount of -electricity, but in reality it would be more correct to speak simply -of a change in the electrical condition of the substance. Electricians -speak of positive and negative electricity as though there actually -were two distinct forms of this peculiar property of matter. But it -may be questioned whether it would not be more correct to speak of -electricity as we do of heat. We might speak of cold as negative heat -precisely as electricians give the name of negative electricity to a -relative deficiency of what they call positive electricity; but in -the case of heat and cold it is found more convenient, and is more -correct, to speak of different degrees of one and the same quality. The -difficulty in the case of electricity is that at present science has -no means of deciding whether positive or negative electricity has in -reality the better claim to be regarded as absolute electricity. Making -comparison between electrical and thermal relations, the process which -we call the generation of positive electricity may in reality involve -the dispersion of absolute electricity, and so correspond to cooling, -not to heating. In this case the generation of what we call negative -electricity would in reality be the positive process. However, it is -not necessary to discuss this point, nor can any error arise from the -use of the ordinary method of expression, so long as we carefully hold -in remembrance that it is only employed for convenience, and must not -be regarded as scientifically precise. - -Electricity may be excited, as I have said, in many ways. With the -ordinary electrical machine it is excited by the friction of a glass -disc or cylinder against suitable rubbers of leather and silk. The -galvanic battery developes electricity by the chemical action of acid -solutions on metal plates. We may speak of the electricity generated -by a machine as frictional electricity, and of that generated by -a galvanic battery as voltaic electricity; in reality, however, -these are not different kinds of electricity, but one and the same -property developed in different ways. The same also is the case with -magnetic electricity, of which I shall presently have much to say: -it is electricity produced by means of magnets, but is in no respect -different from frictional or voltaic electricity. Of course, however, -it will be understood that for special purposes one method of producing -electricity may be more advantageously used than another. Just as heat -produced by burning coal is more convenient for a number of purposes -than heat produced by burning wood, though there is no scientific -distinction between coal-produced heat and wood-produced heat, so for -some purposes voltaic electricity is more convenient than frictional -electricity, though there is no real distinction between them. - -Every one knows that when by means of an ordinary electrical machine -electricity has been generated in sufficient quantity and under -suitable conditions to prevent its dispersion, a spark of intense -brilliancy and greater or less length, according to the amount of -electricity thus collected, can be obtained when some body, not -similarly electrified, is brought near to what is called the conductor -of the machine. The old-fashioned explanation, still repeated in many -of our books, ran somewhat as follows:--'The positive electricity of -the conductor decomposes the neutral or mixed fluid of the body, -attracting the negative fluid and repelling the positive. When the -tension of the opposite electricities is great enough to overcome the -resistance of the air, they re-combine, the spark resulting from the -heat generated in the process of their combination.' This explanation -is all very well; but it assumes much that is in reality by no means -certain, or even likely. All we _know_ is, that whereas before the -spark is seen the electrical conditions of the conductor and the object -presented to it were different, they are no longer different after the -flashing forth of the spark. It is as though a certain line (straight, -crooked, or branched) in the air had formed a channel of communication -by which electricity had passed, either from the conductor to the -object or from the object to the conductor,--or _possibly_ in both -directions, two different kinds of electricity existing (before -the flash) in the conductor and the object, as the old-fashioned -explanation assumes.[23] Again, we know that the passage of electricity -along the air-track supposing there really is such a passage, but in -any case the observed change in the relative electrical conditions of -the conductor and the object, is accompanied by the generation of an -intense heat along the aërial track where the spark is seen. - -In the case of electricity generated by means of a galvanic battery, -we do not note the same phenomena unless the battery is a strong one. -We have in such a battery a steady source of electricity, but unless -the battery is powerful, the electricity is of low intensity, and -not competent to produce the most striking phenomena of frictional -electricity. For instance, voltaic electricity, as used in telegraphic -communication, is far weaker than that obtained from even a small -electrical machine. What is called the positive extremity of the -battery neither gives a spark, nor attracts light bodies. The same -is true of the other, or negative extremity. The difference of the -condition of these extremities can only be ascertained by delicate -tests--the deflections of the needle, in fact, by which telegraphic -communications are made, may in reality be regarded as the indications -of a very delicate electro-cope. - -But when the strength of a galvanic battery is sufficiently great, -or, in other words, when the total amount of chemical action brought -into play to generate electricity is sufficient, we obtain voltaic -electricity not only surpassing in intensity what can be obtained from -electrical machines, but capable of producing spark after spark in a -succession so exceedingly rapid that the light is to all intents and -purposes continuous. - -Without considering the details of the construction of a galvanic -battery, which would occupy more space than can here be spared, and -even with fullest explanation would scarcely be intelligible (except to -those already familiar with the subject), unless illustrations unsuited -to these pages were employed, let us consider what we have in the case -of every powerful galvanic battery, on whatever system arranged. We -have a series of simple batteries, each consisting of two plates of -different metal placed in dilute acid. Whereas, in the case of a simple -battery, however, the two different metals are connected together by -wires to let the electric current pass (the current ceasing to pass -when the wires are disconnected), in a compound battery, in which (let -us say) the metals are zinc and copper, the zinc of one battery is -connected with the copper of the next, the zinc of this with the copper -of another, and so on, the wire _to_ the copper of the first battery -and the wire _from_ the zinc of the last battery being free, and -forming what are called the poles of the compound battery--the former -the positive pole, the later the negative pole.[24] When these free -wires are connected, the current of electricity passes, when they are -disconnected the current ceases to pass, unless the break between them -is such only that the electricity can, as it were, force its way across -the gap. When the wires are connected, so that the current flows, it -is as though there were a channel for some fluid which flowed readily -and easily along the channel. When the circuit is absolutely broken, -it is as though such a channel were dammed completely across. If, -however, while the poles are not connected by copper wires or by other -freely conducting substances, yet the gap is such as the electricity -can pass over, the case may be compared to the partial interruption -of a channel at some spot where, though the fluid which passes freely -along the channel is not able to move so freely; it can yet force its -way along, with much disturbance and resistance. Just as at such a part -of the course of a liquid stream--say, a river--we find, instead of -the quiet flow observed elsewhere, a great noise and tumult, so, where -the current of electricity is not able to pass readily we perceive -evidence of resistance in the generation of much heat and light (if the -resistance is great enough). - -It will be observed that I have spoken in the preceding paragraph -of the passage of a current along the wire connecting the two poles -of a powerful electric battery, or along any substance connecting -those poles which possesses the property of being what is called a -good conductor of electricity. But the reader is not to assume that -there is such a current, or that it is known to flow either from the -positive to the negative pole, or from negative to positive pole; or, -again, that, as some have suggested, there are two currents which flow -simultaneously in opposite directions. We speak conventionally of the -current, and for convenience we speak as though some fluid really -made its way (when the circuit is complete) from the positive to the -negative pole of the compound battery. But the existence of such a -current, or of any current at all, is purely hypothetical. I should -be disposed, for my own part, to believe that the motion is of the -nature of wave-motion, with no actual transference of matter, at least -when the circuit is complete. According to this view, where resistance -takes place we might conceive that the waves are converted into -rollers or breakers, according to the nature of the resistance--actual -transference of matter taking place through the action of these changed -waves, just as waves which have traversed the free surface of ocean -without carrying onward whatever matter may be floating on the surface, -cast such matter ashore when, by the resistance of the shoaling bottom -or of rocks, they become converted either into rollers or into breakers. - -I may also notice, with regard to good conductors and bad conductors -of electricity, that they may be compared to substances respectively -transparent and opaque for light-waves, or again, to substances which -allow heat to pass freely or the reverse. Just as light-waves fail to -illuminate a transparent body, and heat-waves fail to warm a body which -allows them free passage, so electricity-waves (if electricity really -is undulatory, as I imagine) fail to affect any substance along which -they travel freely. But as light-waves illuminate an opaque substance, -and heat-waves raise the temperature of a substance which impedes -their progress, so waves of electricity, when their course is impeded, -produce effects which are indicated to us by the resulting heat and -light. - -A powerful galvanic battery is capable of producing light of intense -brilliancy. For this purpose, instead of taking sparks between the -two metallic poles, each of these is connected with a piece of carbon -(which is nearly as good a conductor as the metal), and the sparks are -taken between these two pieces of carbon, usually set so that the one -connected with the negative pole is virtually above the one connected -with the positive pole, and at a distance of a tenth of an inch from -each other or more, according to the strength of the battery. Across -this gap between the carbons an arc of light is seen, which in reality -results from a series of electric sparks following each other in rapid -succession. This arc, called the voltaic arc, is brilliant, but it is -not from this arc that the chief part of the light comes. The ends -of the carbon become intensely bright, being raised to a white heat. -Both the positive and negative carbons are fiercely heated, but the -positive is heated most. As (ordinarily) both carbons are thus heated -in the open air, combustion necessarily takes place, though it is to be -noticed that the lustre of the carbons is not due to combustion, and -would remain undiminished if combustion were prevented. The carbons -are thus gradually consumed, the positive nearly twice as fast as -the negative. If they are left untouched, this process of combustion -soon increases the distance between them till it exceeds that which -the electricity can pass over. Then the light disappears, the current -ceasing to flow. But by bringing the carbon points near to each other -(they must, indeed, be made to touch for an instant), the current is -made to flow again, and the light is restored. - -The following remarks by M.H. Fontaine (translated by Dr. Higgs) may -help to explain the nature of the voltaic arc:--'In truth, the voltaic -arc is a portion of the electric circuit possessing the properties of -all other parts of the same circuit. The molecules swept away from -point to point (that is, from one carbon end to the other) 'constitute -between these points a mobile chain, more or less conductive, and -more or less heated, according to the intensity of the current and -the nature and separation of the electrodes' (that is, the quality -and distance apart of the carbon or other substances between which -the arc is formed). 'These things happen exactly as if the electrodes -were united by a metallic wire or carbon rod of small section' (so as -to make the resistance to the current great), 'which is but saying -that the light produced by the voltaic arc and that obtained by -incandescence arise from the same cause--that is, the heating of a -resisting substance interposed in the circuit.' - -The intensity of the light from the voltaic arc and the carbon points -varies with circumstances, but depends chiefly on the amount of -electricity generated by the battery. A fair idea of its brilliancy, -as compared with all other lights, will be gained from the following -statements:--If we represent the brightness of the sun at noon on a -clear day as 1,000, the brightness of lime glowing under the intense -heat of the oxy-hydrogen flame is about 7; that of the electric -light obtained with a battery of 46 elements (Bunsen's), 235. With a -battery of 80 elements the brightness is only 238. (These results were -obtained in experiments by Fizeau and Foucault.) The intensity does not -therefore increase much with the number of the component elements after -a certain number is passed. But it increases greatly with the surface, -for the experimenters found that with a battery of 46 elements, each -composed of 3, with their zinc and copper respectively united to form -one element of triple surface, the brightness became 385, or more than -one-third of the midday brightness of the sun (that is, the apparent -intrinsic lustre of his disc's surface), and 55 times the brightness of -the oxy-hydrogen lime-light. - -Another way of obtaining an intense heat and light from the electric -current generated by a strong battery is to introduce into the -electric circuit a substance of small conducting power, and capable -of sustaining an intense heat without disintegration, combustion, or -melting. Platinum has been used for this purpose. If the conductive -power of copper be represented by 100, that of platinum will be -represented by 18 only. Thus the resistance experienced by a current in -passing through platinum is relatively so great, that if the current -is strong the platinum becomes intensely heated, and shines with a -brilliant light. A difficulty arises in using this light practically, -from the circumstance that when the strength of the current reaches a -certain point, the platinum melts, and the circuit being thus broken, -the light immediately goes out. - -The use of galvanic batteries to generate an electric current strong -enough for the production of a brilliant light, is open to several -objections, especially on the score of expense. It may, indeed, be -safely said that if no other way of obtaining currents of sufficient -intensity had ever been devised, the electric light would scarcely -have been thought of for purposes of general illumination, however -useful in special cases. (In the electric lighting of the New Opera -House at Paris, batteries are used.) The discovery by Orsted that an -electric current can make iron magnetic, and the series of discoveries -by Faraday, in which the relation between magnetism and electricity -was explained, made electric lighting practically possible. One of -these shows that if a properly insulated wire coil is rapidly rotated -in front of a fixed permanent magnet (or of a set of such magnets), -currents will be induced in the coil, which may be made to produce -either alternating currents or currents in one direction only, in wire -conductors. An instrument for generating electric currents in this way, -by rapidly rotating a coil in front of a series of powerful permanent -magnets fixed symmetrically around it, is called a magneto-electric -machine. Another method, now generally preferred, depends on the -rotation of a coil in front of an electro-magnet; that is, of a bar -of soft iron (bent in horseshoe form), which can be rendered magnetic -by the passage of an electric current through a coil surrounding it. -The rapid rotation of the coil in front of the soft iron generates -a weak current, because iron always has some traces of magnetism -in it, especially if it has once been magnetised. This weak current -being caused to traverse the coil surrounding the soft iron increases -its magnetism, so that somewhat stronger currents are produced in -the revolving coil. These carried round the soft iron still further -increase its magnetism, and so still further strengthen the current. -In this way coil and magnet act and react on each other, until from -the small effects due to the initial slight magnetism of the iron, -both coil and the magnet become, so to speak, saturated. Machines -constructed on this principle are called dynamo-electric machines, -because the generation of electricity depends on the dynamical force -employed in rapidly rotating the coils. - -We need not consider here the various forms which magneto-electric -and dynamo-electric machines have received. It is sufficient that -the reader should recognise how we obtain an electric current of -great intensity in one case from mechanical action and permanent -magnetism,[25] and in the other from mechanical action and the mere -residue of magnetism always present in iron. - -In the cases here considered it is in reality the sudden presentation -of the coil (twice at each rotation) before the positive and negative -poles of the magnet, which induces a momentary but intense current -of electricity. The rotation being exceedingly rapid, these currents -succeed each other with sufficient rapidity to be appreciably -continuous. A similar principle is involved in the use of what is -called the inductive coil, except that in this case the sudden -beginning and ceasing of a current in one coil (and not magnetic -action) induces a momentary but strong current: matters are so arranged -that the current induced by the starting of the inducing current, -immediately causes this to cease; while the current induced by the -cessation of the inducing current immediately causes this current -to begin again: so that by a self-acting process we have a constant -series of intense induced currents, succeeding each other with great -rapidity, so as to be practically continuous, as with those produced by -magneto-electric and dynamo-electric machines. - -All that I have said about the voltaic arc, the incandescence -resulting from resistance to the current's flow, and so forth, in -relation to electricity generated by galvanic batteries, applies to -electricity generated by induction coils, or by magneto-electric and -by dynamo-electric machines. Only it is to be noticed that in some of -these machines the currents alternate in direction with each revolution -of the swiftly turning coil, in others the currents are always in the -same direction, and in yet others the currents may be made to alternate -or not, as may be most convenient. - -We have now to consider how light suitable for purposes of illumination -may be obtained from the electric current. Hitherto we have considered -only light such as might be used for special purposes, where a bright -and very intense light was required, where expense and complexity of -construction might not be open to special objections, and where in -general the absolute steadiness of the light was not an essential -point. But those who have seen the electric light used even by the -most experienced manipulators for the illustration of lectures will -know that the light as so obtained, though of intense brilliancy, is -altogether unsuited for purposes of ordinary illumination. - -If we consider a few of the methods which have been devised for -overcoming the difficulties inherent in the problem of electric -lighting, the reader will recognise at once the nature of these -difficulties, and the probability of their being effectually overcome -in the future, for though much has been done, much yet remains to be -done in mastering them. - -Let us consider first the Jablochkoff candle, the invention of which -brought about, in July 1877, the first great fall in the value of gas -property. - -The Jablochkoff candle consists of two carbons placed side by side -(instead of one above the other in a vertical line). Thus placed, -with a slight interval between them, the carbon rods would allow the -passage of the electric current at the place of nearest approach, and -therefore of least resistance to its passage. A variable and imperfect -illumination would result. M. Jablochkoff, however, interposes between -the separate carbon rods a slip of plaster of Paris, which is a -non-conducting material. The upper points of the carbon rods are thus -the only parts at which the current can cross. They are connected by -a little bridge of carbon, which is necessary for the starting of the -light--just as in the case of the ordinary electric light, the two -carbons must, in order to start the light, be brought into contact. -When the current flows, the small bridge of carbon connecting the two -points is presently consumed, but the arc between the points is still -maintained: for the plaster becomes vitrified by the intense heat of -the two carbon points on each side, and melts down as the carbons are -consumed. If the light is in any way put out, however, a small piece of -carbon must be set again, to form a bridge between the carbon points. -Throughout the burning of the Jablochkoff candle the fused portion -of the insulating layer forms a conducting bridge between the carbon -points; and hence there is a considerable loss of electric force -(probably about thirty per cent.), which in the ordinary arrangement -would increase the intensity of the light. The great advantage of the -candle consists in the circumstance that throughout its consumption -the carbon ends are at a constant distance from each other without any -mechanical or other arrangement being necessary to maintain them in due -position. - -One point should be noticed here. In the ordinary arrangement of carbon -points, the positive carbon, as we have already said, is much more -intensely heated, and consumes twice as fast as the negative carbon. -Now, if one carbon of the Jablochkoff candle were connected with the -positive, and the other with the negative pole of the battery or of a -machine, the former side would consume twice as fast as the latter, and -the two points would no longer remain at the same horizontal level, -which is essential to the proper burning of the Jablochkoff candle. -By using a machine which produces alternating currents, M. Jablochkoff -obviates this difficulty, the carbons being alternately positive and -negative (in extremely rapid succession), and therefore consuming at -the same rate. - -The Jablochkoff candle lasts only about an hour and a half. But four, -six, or more candles may be used in the same globe or lantern, and -automatic arrangements adopted to cause a fresh candle to be ignited at -the moment when its predecessor is burnt out. - -In Paris and elsewhere (as in Holborn, for instance), each Jablochkoff -lamp is enclosed in an opal glass globe. Mr. Hepworth remarks on this, -that in his opinion the use of the opal globe is a mistake, as it -shuts off quite 50 per cent. of the light without any corresponding -advantage, except the correction of the glare. 'This wasteful -disadvantage will no doubt be remedied in the future,' he says, by -the use of some less dense medium. 'Mr. Shoolbred states that from a -series of careful photometric experiments carried out by the municipal -authorities with the Jablochkoff lights, each naked light is found to -possess a maximum intensity of 300 candles. With the opal globe this -was reduced to 180 candles, showing a loss of 40 per cent., while -during the darker periods through which the light passed the light -was as low as 90 candles. It may be mentioned here that Mr. Van der -Weyde, who has long used the electric light for photographic purposes, -has given much attention to the important problem of rendering the -electric light available as an illuminator without wasting it, and yet -without throwing the rays directly upon the object to be illuminated. -The rays are intercepted by an opal disc about four inches in diameter, -and the whole body of the rays is gathered up by a concave reflector -(lined with a white material), and thrown out in a flood of pure white -light, in which the most delicate shades of tint are discernible. He -can use any form of electric candle in this way. Only it should be -noticed, before the employment of his method is advocated for street -illumination, that there is a difference between the problems which -the photographer and the street-lighter have to solve. The Jablochkoff -candle, for instance, must be screened on all sides, and even above, -when used to illuminate the streets. If its direct light is allowed -to escape in any direction, there will be a mischievous and unsightly -beam, and from every point along the path of the beam, the intensely -bright light of the candle will be directly visible. Again: it is -essential that whatever substance is used to screen the light should -be dense enough to cause the whole globe to seem uniformly bright or -nearly so. The only modification which seems available (when these -essential points have been secured) is that the tint of the globe -should be such as to correct any colour which the light may be found to -have in injurious excess. We may, however, remark that the objection -which has been often raised against the colour of the electric light -can hardly be just--the injury to the eyes in certain cases arising -probably from the strong contrast between the light and the background -on which it is projected. For, as to colour, the electric light -derived either from the glowing carbon or from incandescent metal is -appreciably the same as sunlight. - -The Rapieff burner, employed in the 'Times' office, consists of four -carbon pencils, arranged thus [Symbol] (except that the two v's are -not in the same plane, but in planes at right angles to each other). -The spark crosses the space between the points of the v's, and -arrangements are made for keeping the two points at the right distance -from each other, and also for keeping the ends of the two pencils which -form each point in their proper position. If the current is from any -cause interrupted, an automatic arrangement is adopted to allow the -current to pass to the other lamps in the same circuit. There are -six lamps in circuit at the 'Times' office; and M. Rapieff has -exhibited as many as ten. The advantages claimed for this -light are the following:--'First, its production by any description -of dynamo-electric machine with either alternating or continuous -currents; secondly, great diversibility and complete independence -of the several lights, and long duration without change of carbons; -and lastly, the extreme facility with which any ordinary workman or -servant can renew the carbons when necessary, without extinguishing -the lights.' The last-named advantage results, it need hardly perhaps -be said, from the use of two carbons to form each point. One can be -removed, the other remaining to keep the voltaic arc intact until a -new carbon has been substituted for its fellow; then it in turn can be -replaced by a new carbon, the new carbon already inserted keeping the -voltaic arc intact. - -The six lamps at the 'Times' office thoroughly illuminate the room, and -give light for working the eight Walter presses used in printing the -paper. The light has been thus used since the middle of last October, -and it is said that other rooms in the building are shortly to be -illuminated in the same manner. 'Each lamp is enclosed in an opal globe -of about four inches in diameter, and so little heat is given off, that -the hand can be placed on the globe without inconvenience, even after -the light has been burning for some time.' - -In the Wallace lamp there are two horizontal plates of carbon, about -nine inches in diameter, instead of mere carbon points. When the -current is passing, these carbon plates are separated by a suitable -small distance which remains unchanged. The electric arc, being started -at the point along the edge of the carbons where there is least -resistance to the passage of the current, gradually passes along the -edge of the carbons as combustion goes on, changing the position of -the place of nearest approach and consequently of least resistance. -The light will thus burn for many hours (even for a hundred with large -carbon plates), and any number of lights up to ten can be worked from -the machine. The objection to the Wallace lamp is, that the light does -not remain at one point, but travels along the whole extent of the -carbons. It will not be easy to design a glass shade which will be -suitable for a light thus changing in position. - -The Werdermann regulator is on an entirely new plan; but it has not yet -been submitted to the test of practical working outside the laboratory. -The positive carbon, which is lowest, ends in a sharp point, which -strangely enough retains its figure, while the carbon burns away at -the rate of about two inches per hour. The negative carbon is a block -having its under side, against which the positive carbon presses, -slightly convex. The positive carbon is pressed steadily against the -negative by the action of a weight. The increased resistance to the -passage of the current, at the sharp point of the positive carbon, -generates sufficient heat to produce a powerful light. The light -resembles a steadily radiant star, but 'with all its softness and -purity of tint, it is so intense, that adjacent gas-flames are thrown -on the wall as transparent shadows.' The light will last for fifteen -hours without attention, the positive carbon rod being used in lengths -of three feet. The carbon block hardly undergoes any change. When the -lamp has been burning a long time, a slight depression can be seen -at the place where the positive carbon touches it, but by shifting -the carbon in its holder this is easily remedied. Mr. Werdermann -lately exhibited a row of ten small lamps burning side by side at the -same time. 'The two wires from the machine,' says Mr. Hepworth, were -carried one on either side of this row of lamps, branch wires being led -from them for the service of each lamp. Mr. Werdermann says that his -perfected lamps will be furnished with keys, by which the current can -be turned on or off, as in the case of gas. We may say in fact, that -in the nature of its connections and various arrangements, it ("the -Werdermann lamp") most nearly comes up in convenience to the use of -gas.' - -We do not yet know certainly what arrangement Mr. Edison employs to -obtain the light of which so much has been heard. It is asserted that -his light is obtained from the incandescence of an alloy of iridium and -platinum, which will bear without fusion a heat[26] of 5,000 degrees -Fahrenheit. It would be unsafe, however, to assume that this account is -trustworthy, or to infer (as we might in the case of almost any other -inventor), that such being the nature of his plan, it could lead to no -result of practical value. As has been well remarked by a contemporary -writer, whatever Edison's invention may be, 'it is certain to be -something to command respect, even if it does not quite come up to the -glowing accounts which have reached us in advance.' - -The following passage from one of these accounts, which appeared in the -'New York Herald,' will be read with interest, and may be accepted as -trustworthy so far as it goes. 'The writer last night saw the invention -in operation in Mr. Edison's laboratory. The inventor was deep in -experimental researches. What he called the apparatus consisted of a -small metal stand placed on the table. Surrounding the light was a -small glass globe. Near by was a gas jet burning low. The Professor -looked up from his work, to greet the reporter, and in reply to a -request to view the invention, waved his hand towards the light, with -the exclamation, "There she is!" The illumination was such as would -come from a brilliant gas jet surrounded with ground glass, only that -the light was clearer and more brilliant. "Now I extinguish it and -light the gas, and you can see the difference," said Mr. Edison, and -he touched the spring. Instantly all was darkness. Then he turned on -the gas. The difference was quite perceptible. The light from the gas -appeared in comparison tinted with yellow. In a moment, however, the -eye had become accustomed to it, and the yellowish tint disappeared. -Then the Professor turned on the electric light, giving the writer the -opportunity of seeing both, side by side. The electric light seemed -much softer; a continuous view of it for three minutes did not pain -the eye; whereas looking at the gas for the same length of time caused -some little pain and confusion of sight. One of the noticeable features -of the light, when fully turned on, was that all the colours could -be distinguished as readily as by sunlight. "When do you expect to -have the invention completed, Mr. Edison?" asked the reporter. "The -substance of it is all right now," he answered, putting the apparatus -away and turning on the gas. "But there are the usual little details -that must be attended to before it goes to the people. For instance, we -have got to devise some arrangement for registering a sort of meter, -and again, there are several different forms that we are experimenting -on now, in order to select the best." "Are the lights to be all of the -same degree of brilliancy?" asked the reporter. "All the same!" "Have -you come across any serious difficulties in it as yet?" "Well, no," -replied the inventor, "and that's what worries me, for in the telephone -I found about a thousand;[27] and so in the quadruplex. I worked on -both over two years before I overcame them."' - -Other methods, as the Sawyer-Man system, and the Brush system, need not -at present detain us, as little is certainly known respecting them. In -the former it is said that the light is obtained from an incandescent -carbon pencil, within a space containing nitrogen and no oxygen, so -that there is no combustion. In the latter the carbon points are placed -as in the ordinary electric lamp, but are so suspended in the clasp of -a regulator, that they burn 14 inches of carbon without adjustment, the -carbons lasting eight hours, and producing a flood of intense white -light, estimated as equivalent to 3,000 candles. - -I have little space to consider the cost of electric lighting, even -if the question were one which could be suitably dealt with in these -pages. Opinions are very much divided as to the relative cost of -lighting by gas and by electricity; but the balance of opinion seem to -be in favour of the belief that in America and France certainly, and -probably in this country, where gas is cheap, electric lighting will -on the whole be as cheap as lighting by gas. It should be noticed, -in making a comparison between this country and others in which coal -is dearer, that the cheapness of coal here, though favourable in the -main to gas illumination, is also favourable, though in less degree -(relatively) to electric lighting. Machines for generating electricity -can be worked more cheaply here than in America. Nay, it has even -been found advantageous in some cases to use a gas engine to generate -electricity. Thus Mr. Van der Weyde used an Otto gas engine driven -at the cost of 6_d._ an hour for gas, to produce the light which he -exhibited publicly on the night of November 9. So that the cheapness of -gas may make the electric light cheaper. Then it is to be remembered -that important though the question of cost is, it is far from being -all-important. The advantages of electric lighting for many purposes, -as in public libraries, in cases where many persons work together -under conditions rendering the vitiation of the air by gas lighting -exceedingly mischievous, and in cases where the recognition of delicate -differences of tint or texture is essential, must far more than -compensate for some slight difference in cost. The possibility (shown -by actual experience to be real) of employing natural sources of power -to drive machines for generating electricity, is another interesting -element of the subject, but could not be properly dealt with save in -greater space than this here available. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[Footnote 23: It is supposed by many, that when the spark is long -enough we can note the direction in which it travels; and observations -of the motion of lightning from the earth to the cloud have been -collected, as showing that the usually observed direction of the flash -is sometimes reversed. In reality, no one has ever seen a lightning -flash travel either one way or the other. If the attention is fixed -on the storm cloud, as usual when a lightning storm is watched, every -flash appears to pass from the cloud to the earth. If, on the contrary, -at the moment when the attention is fixed on some terrestrial object -the lightning flashes near that particular object, the flash will seem -to pass from the object to the cloud. In either case the motion is -apparent only. If there is motion at all, the passage of the electric -spark occupies less than the 100,000th part of a second, and of course -it is utterly impossible that any eye could tell at which end of its -track the flash first appeared. In every case the flash seems to travel -from the end to which attention was more nearly directed. The apparent -motion corresponds to the chance direction of the eye.] - -[Footnote 24: The extremity of the wire connected with the metal least -affected by the acid solution is called the positive pole, that of the -wire connected with the metal most affected by the solution is called -the negative pole.] - -[Footnote 25: So called, though in reality the best magnets gradually -lose force.] - -[Footnote 26: My occasional use of the word 'heat' where in scientific -writing 'temperature' would be the word used, has exposed me to -peevish, not to say petulant comments from Professor P.G. Tait, who -has denounced half the mathematical world for using the word 'force,' -in the sense in which Newton used it, and has spoken of an eminent -physicist as one deserving universal execration and opprobrium for -not explaining, when speaking of work done against gravity, that -terrestrial gravity was meant, and not gravity on the sun, or Jupiter, -or Mars, or anywhere in the heavens above or in the earth beneath, -but only at the earth's surface. Where there is no risk of confusion, -the word 'heat' may be used either to signify temperature, as when -in ordinary speech and writing we talk of blood-heat, fever-heat, -summer-heat, and so forth. Science, indeed, very properly forbids -the use of the word in any sense save one. But outside the pages of -scientific treatises, there is no inaccuracy in using a word in a sense -popularly attributed to it, when no mistake can possibly arise. No one -can suppose, when I speak of a heat of so many degrees Fahrenheit or -Centigrade, that I mean anything but such and such a degree of heat, -any more than if I spoke of the intense heat of that _savant entêté_, -Professor P.G. Tait, any one would imagine that I referred to his -calorific condition.] - -[Footnote 27: The comments made by one of Mr. Edison's assistants -on this point are interesting and instructive. 'Mr. Batchelor, the -Professor's assistant, who here joined in the conversation,' proceeds -the report of the _Herald_, 'said, "Many a time Mr. Edison sat down -almost on the point of giving up the telephone as a lost job; but at -the last moment, he would see light." "Of all things that we have -discovered, this is about the simplest," continued Mr. Edison, "and the -public will say so when it is explained. We have got it pretty well -advanced now, but there are some few improvements I have in my mind. -You see, it has got to be so fixed that it cannot get out of order. -Suppose when one light only is employed it got out of order once a -year, where two were used it would get out of order twice a year, and -where a thousand were used you can see there would be much trouble in -looking after them. Therefore, when the light leaves the laboratory, I -want it to be in such a shape that it cannot get out of order at all, -except of course by some accident."'] - - PRINTED BY - SPOTTISWOODE AND CO. LTD., NEW-STREET SQUARE - LONDON - -Trascribers Note: -Original spelling has been retained. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Rough Ways Made Smooth, by Richard A. 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Proctor - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Rough Ways Made Smooth - A series of familiar essays on scientific subjects - -Author: Richard A. Proctor - -Release Date: April 17, 2017 [EBook #54557] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROUGH WAYS MADE SMOOTH *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Graeme Mackreth and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - - - - - - - - -<p class="ph1"> -ROUGH WAYS MADE SMOOTH</p> - -<p class="ph4">A SERIES OF</p> - -<p class="ph3">Familiar Essays on Scientific Subjects</p> - -<p class="ph6" style="margin-top: 10em;">BY</p> -<p class="ph3">RICHARD A. PROCTOR</p> - -<p class="center" style="margin-top: 10em;"> -<img src="images/illus01.jpg" alt="cover" /> -</p> - - -<p class="ph5" style="margin-top: 10em;"><i>NEW IMPRESSION</i></p> - -<p class="ph4" style="margin-top: 5em;">LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.</p> - -<p class="ph5">39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON<br /> -<br /> -NEW YORK AND BOMBAY</p> - -<p class="ph5">1903</p> - -<p class="ph6"><i>All rights reserved</i> -</p> - - - - -<p class="ph5" style="margin-top: 10em;"> -'<i>Let knowledge grow from more to more</i>' -<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 5%;"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span></span><br /> -</p> - - - - -<p class= "ph2">PREFACE.</p> - - -<p>It is scarcely necessary for me to explain the plan of the present -work, because I have already—in introducing my 'Light Science -for Leisure Hours,' my 'Science Byways,' and my 'Pleasant Ways in -Science'—described the method on which, as I think, such treatises as -the present should be written. This work deals with similar subjects in -a similar way; but I think the experience I have acquired in writing -other works on the same plan has enabled me to avoid some defects in -the present work which I have recognised in the others.</p> - -<p>The list of subjects indicates sufficiently the range over which the -present volume extends. Some of them might be judged by their names to -be in no way connected with science, but it will be found that none -have been treated except in their scientific significance, though in -familiar and untechnical terms.</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 45%;">RICHARD A. PROCTOR.</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">S.S. 'Arizona,' Irish Sea</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>October 18, 1879.</i></span> -</p> - - - - -<p class="ph2">CONTENTS.</p> - - -<table summary="toc" width="60%"> -<tr> -<td> -</td> -<td align="right">PAGE -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#THE_SUNS_CORONA_AND_HIS_SPOTS">THE SUN'S CORONA AND HIS SPOTS.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#SUN-SPOTS_AND_COMMERCIAL_PANICS">SUN-SPOTS AND COMMERCIAL PANICS.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_26">26</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#NEW_PLANETS_NEAR_THE_SUN">NEW PLANETS NEAR THE SUN.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_32">32</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#RESULTS_OF_THE_BRITISH_TRANSIT_EXPEDITIONS">RESULTS OF THE BRITISH TRANSIT EXPEDITIONS.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_58">58</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#THE_PAST_HISTORY_OF_OUR_MOON">THE PAST HISTORY OF OUR MOON.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">81</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#A_NEW_CRATER_IN_THE_MOON">A NEW CRATER IN THE MOON.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_98">98</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#THE_NOVEMBER_METEORS">THE NOVEMBER METEORS.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_111">111</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#EXPECTED_METEOR_SHOWER">EXPECTED METEOR SHOWER.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_117">117</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#COLD_WINTERS">COLD WINTERS.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_125">125</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#OXFORD_AND_CAMBRIDGE_ROWING">OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE ROWING.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_148">148</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#ROWING_STYLES">ROWING STYLES.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_169">169</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#ARTIFICIAL_SOMNAMBULISM">ARTIFICIAL SOMNAMBULISM.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_178">178</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#HEREDITARY_TRAITS">HEREDITARY TRAITS.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_205">205</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#BODILY_ILLNESS_AS_A_MENTAL_STIMULANT">BODILY ILLNESS AS A MENTAL STIMULANT.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_236">236</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#DUAL_CONSCIOUSNESS">DUAL CONSCIOUSNESS.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_259">259</a> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><a href="#ELECTRIC_LIGHTING">ELECTRIC LIGHTING.</a> -</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#Page_289">289</a> -</td> -</tr> -</table> - - - - - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="ROUGH_WAYS_MADE_SMOOTH" id="ROUGH_WAYS_MADE_SMOOTH">ROUGH WAYS MADE SMOOTH.</a></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="THE_SUNS_CORONA_AND_HIS_SPOTS" id="THE_SUNS_CORONA_AND_HIS_SPOTS"><i>THE SUN'S CORONA AND HIS SPOTS.</i></a></p> - - -<p>One of the most important results of observations made upon the eclipse -of July 29, 1878, indicates the existence of a law of sympathy, so to -speak, between the solar corona and the sun-spots. The inquiry into -this relation seems to me likely to lead to a very interesting series -of researches, from which may possibly result an interpretation not -only of the relation itself, should it be found really to exist, but -of the mystery of the sun-spot period. I speak of the sun-spot period -as mysterious, because even if we admit (which I think we cannot do) -that the sun-spots are produced in some way by the action of the -planets upon the sun, it would still remain altogether a mystery -how this action operated. When all the known facts respecting the -sun-spots are carefully considered, no theory yet advanced respecting -them seems at all satisfactory, while no approach even has been -made to an explanation of their periodic increase and diminution in -number. This seems to me one of the most interesting problems which -astronomers have at present to deal with; nor do I despair of seeing -it satisfactorily solved within no very long interval of time. Should -the recognition of a sympathy between the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> corona and the sun-spots be -satisfactorily established, an important step in advance will have been -made,—possibly even the key to the enigma will be found to have been -discovered.</p> - -<p>I propose now to consider, first, whether the evidence we have on this -subject is sufficient, and afterwards to discuss some of the ideas -suggested by the relations which have been recognised as existing -between the sun-spots, the sierra, the coloured prominences, and the -zodiacal light.</p> - -<p>The evidence from the recent eclipses indicates beyond all possibility -of doubt or question, that during the years when sun-spots were -numerous, in 1870 and 1871, the corona, at least on the days of the -total solar eclipses in those years, presented an appearance entirely -different from that of the corona seen on July 29, 1878, when the sun -was almost free from spots. This will be more fully indicated further -on. At present it is necessary to notice only (1) that whereas in 1870 -and 1871 the inner corona extended at least 250,000 miles from the -sun, it reached only to a height of some 70,000 miles in 1878; (2) in -1870 and 1871 it possessed a very complicated structure, whereas in -1878 the definite structure could be recognised only in two parts of -the inner corona; (3) in 1871 the corona was pink, whereas in 1878 -it was pearly white; (4) the corona was ten times brighter in 1871 -than in 1878; lastly, in 1871 the light of the corona came in part -from glowing gas, whereas in July, 1878, the light came chiefly, if -not wholly, from glowing solid or liquid matter. I must here point -out, that the evidence of change, however satisfactory in itself, -would be quite insufficient to establish the general theory that the -corona sympathises with the solar photosphere in the special manner -suggested by the recent eclipse observations. There are few practices -more unscientific, or more likely to lead to erroneous theorising, than -that of basing a general theory on a small number of observations. -In this case we have, in fact, but a single observed correspondence, -though the observations establishing it form a series. It has been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> -shown that so far as the special sun-spot period from the minimum of -1867 to the minimum of 1878 is concerned, there has been a certain -correspondence between the aspect of the corona and the state of -the sun's surface, with regard to spots. To assume from that single -correspondence that the corona and the sun-spots are related in the -same way, would be hazardous in the extreme. We may indeed find, when -we consider other matters, that the probability of a general relation -of this sort existing is so great antecedently, that but slight direct -evidence would be required to establish the existence of the relation. -But it must be remembered that before the eclipse of 1878 was observed, -with the special result I have noticed, few were bold enough to assert -the probable existence of any such relationship; and certainly no one -asserted that the probability was very strong. I believe, indeed, that -no one spoke more definitely in favour of the theory that the corona -probably sympathises with the sun-spots than I did myself before the -recent eclipse; but certainly I should not then have been willing to -say that I considered the evidence very strong.</p> - -<p>We must then look for evidence of a more satisfactory kind.</p> - -<p>Now, although during the two centuries preceding the invention of the -spectroscope and the initiation of the solar physical researches now in -progress, observations of eclipses were not very carefully conducted, -yet we have some records of the appearance of the corona on different -occasions, which, combined with the known law of sun-spot periodicity, -may enable us to generalise more safely than we could from observations -during the present spot-period, though these observations have been far -more exact than the older ones. I propose to examine some of these. -Necessarily I must make some selection. I need hardly say that even -if there were no such relation as that which seems to be indicated by -recent observations, and if my purpose were simply to prove, either -that such a relation exists or that it does not, I could very readily -bring before the reader of these pages<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> what would seem like the most -satisfactory evidence that the relation is real. I must ask him to -believe, however, that my purpose is to ascertain where the truth lies. -I shall neither introduce any observation of the corona because it -seems specially favourable to the theory that the corona sympathises -with the photosphere, nor omit any, because it seems definitely opposed -to that theory. To prevent any possibility of being unconsciously -prejudiced, I shall take a series of coronal observations collected -together by myself, on account of their intrinsic interest, several -years ago, when I had not in my thoughts any theory respecting periodic -changes in the corona—the series, namely, which is included in the -sixth chapter of my treatise on the sun. Each of these observations -I shall consider in connection with the known condition of the sun -as to spots, and those results which seem to bear <i>clearly</i>, whether -favourably or unfavourably, on the theory we are enquiring into, I -shall bring before the reader.</p> - -<p>Kepler, whose attention had been specially drawn to the subject of the -light seen round the sun during total eclipse, by certain statements -which Clavius had made respecting the eclipse of 1567, describes the -eclipse of 1605 in the following terms:—'The whole body of the sun -was completely covered for a short time, but around it there shone a -brilliant light of a reddish hue and uniform breadth, which occupied a -considerable portion of the heavens.' The corona thus seen may fairly -be assumed to have resembled in extent that of 1871. A bright corona, -reaching like that seen during the eclipse of July 1878 to a height -of only about 70,000 miles from the sun's surface, would certainly -not have been described by Kepler as occupying a considerable portion -of the heavens, for a height of 70,000 miles would correspond only to -about a twelfth of the sun's diameter; and a ring so narrow would be -described very differently. It seems, then, that in 1605 a corona was -seen which corresponded with that observed when the sun has had many -spots on his surface. Now we have no record of the con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>dition of the -sun with regard to spots in 1605; but we know that the year 1615 was -one of many spots, and the year 1610 one of few spots; whence we may -conclude safely that the year 1605 was one of many spots. This case -then is in favour of the theory we are examining.</p> - -<p>In passing we may ask whether the observation by Clavius which had -perplexed Kepler, may not throw some light on our subject. Clavius says -that the eclipse of 1567 which should have been total was annular. The -usual explanation of this has been that the corona was intensely bright -close to the sun. And though Kepler considered that his own observation -of a broad reddish corona satisfactorily removed Clavius's difficulty, -it seems tolerably clear that the corona seen by Clavius must have -been very unlike the corona seen by Kepler. In fact the former must -have been like the corona seen in July, 1878, much smaller than the -average, but correspondingly increased in lustre. Now with regard to -the sun-spot period we can go back to the year 1567, though not quite -so securely as we could wish. Taking the average sun-spot period at -eleven years, and calculating back from the minimum of spots in the -year 1610, we get four years of minimum solar disturbance, 1599, 1588, -1577, and 1566. We should have obtained the same result if we had used -the more exact period, eleven one-ninth years, and had taken 1610·8 for -the epoch of least solar disturbance (1610·8 meaning about the middle -of October, 1610). Thus the year 1567 was a year of few sun-spots, -probably occupying almost exactly the same position in the sun spot -period as the year 1878. Clavius's observation, then, is in favour of -our theory.</p> - -<p>But another observation between Clavius's and Kepler's may here be -noticed. Jensenius, who observed the eclipse of 1598 at Torgau in -Germany, noticed that, at the time of mid-totality, a bright light -shone round the moon. On this occasion, remarks Grant, the phenomenon -was generally supposed to arise from a defect in the totality of the -eclipse, though Kepler strenuously contended that such an explana<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>tion -was at variance with the relation between the values of the apparent -diameters of the sun and moon as computed for the time of the eclipse -by aid of the solar and lunar tables. The corona, then, must have -resembled that seen by Clavius, and since the year 1598 must have been -very near the time of fewest spots, this observation accords with the -theory we are examining.</p> - -<p>The next observation is that made by Wyberd during the eclipse of 1652. -Here there is a difficulty arising from the strange way in which the -sun-spots behaved during the interval from 1645 to 1679. According -to M. Wolf, whose investigation of the subject has been very close -and searching, there was a maximum of sun-spots in 1639 followed -by a minimum in 1645, the usual interval of about six years having -elapsed; but there came a maximum in 1655, ten years later, followed -by a minimum in 1666, eleven years later, so that actually twenty-one -years would seem to have elapsed between successive minima (1645 and -1666). Then came a maximum in 1675, nine years later, and a minimum in -1679, four years later. Between the maxima of 1639 and 1675, including -two spot periods, an interval of thirty-six years elapsed. There is -no other instance on record, so far as I know, of so long an interval -as this for two spot-periods. In passing, I would notice how little -this circumstance accords with the theory that the sun-spots follow -an exact law, or that from observations of the sun, means can ever be -found for forming a trustworthy system of weather prediction, even if -we assumed (which has always seemed to me a very daring assumption), -that terrestrial weather is directly dependent on the progress of the -sun-spot period. But here the irregularity of the spot changes affects -us only as preventing us from determining or even from guessing what -may have been the condition of the sun's surface in the year 1652. -This year followed by seven years a period of minimum disturbance, and -preceded by three years a period of maximum disturbance; but it would -be unsafe to assume that the sun's condition in 1652<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> was nearer that -of maximum than that of minimum disturbance. We must pass over Wyberd's -observations of the corona in 1652, at least until some direct evidence -as to the sun's condition shall have been obtained from the papers or -writings of the observers of that year. I note only that Wyberd saw a -corona of very limited extent, having indeed a height not half so great -as that of many prominences which have been observed during recent -eclipses. If the theory we are examining should be established beyond -dispute, we should be led to infer that the year 1652 was in reality -a year of minimum solar disturbance. Perhaps by throwing in such a -minimum between 1645 and 1666, with of course a corresponding maximum, -the wild irregularity of the sun-spot changes between 1645 and 1679 -would be to some degree diminished.</p> - -<p>We are now approaching times when more satisfactory observations were -made upon the corona, and when also we have more complete records of -the aspect of the sun's surface.</p> - -<p>In 1706 Plantade and Capies saw a bright ring of white light extending -round the eclipsed sun to a distance of about 85,000 miles, but merging -into a fainter light, which extended no less than four degrees from -the eclipsed sun, fading off insensibly until its light was lost in -the obscure background of the sky. This corresponds unmistakably -with such a corona as we should expect only to see at a time of many -sun-spots, if the theory we are examining is sound. Turning to Wolf's -list, we find that the year 1705 is marked as a year of maximum solar -disturbance, and the year 1712 as that of the next minimum. Therefore -1706 was a year of many sun-spots—in fact, 1706 may have been the year -of actual maximum disturbance, for it is within the limits of doubt -indicated by Wolf. Certainly a corona extending so far as that which -Plantade and Capies saw would imply an altogether exceptional degree of -solar disturbance, if the theory we are considering is correct.</p> - -<p>In 1715 Halley gave the following description of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> corona:—'A few -seconds before the sun was all hid, there discovered itself round the -moon a luminous ring about a digit' (a twelfth) 'or perhaps a tenth -part of the moon's diameter in breadth. It was of a pale whiteness or -rather pearl colour, seeming to me a little tinged with the colours -of the Iris, and to be concentric with the moon.' He added that the -ring appeared much whiter and brighter near the body of the moon -than at a distance from it, and that its exterior boundary was very -ill-defined, seeming to be determined only by the extreme rarity of -the luminous matter. The French astronomer Louville gave a similar -account of the appearance of the ring. He added, however, that 'there -were interruptions in its brightness, causing it to resemble the -radial glory with which painters encircle the heads of the saints.' -The smallness of the corona on this occasion corresponds with the -description of the corona seen in July 1878; and though Louville's -description of gaps is suggestive of a somewhat different aspect, -yet, on the whole, the corona seen in 1715 more closely resembles -one which would be seen at a time of minimum solar disturbance, if -our theory can be trusted, than one which would be seen at a time of -maximum disturbance. Wolf's list puts the year 1712 as one of minimum -disturbance, with one year of doubt either way, and the middle of the -year 1817 as the epoch of maximum disturbance, with a similar range of -uncertainty. The case, then, is doubtful, but on the whole inclines -to being unfavourable. I may remark that because of its unfavourable -nature, I departed from the rule I had set myself, of taking only the -cases included in my treatise on the sun. For the corona of 1715 is not -described in that treatise, as indeed affording no evidence respecting -this solar appendage. The evidence given in this case is probably -affected in some degree by the unfavourable atmospheric conditions -under which Halley certainly, and Louville probably, observed the -eclipse. In any case the evidence is not strong; only I would call -attention here to the circumstance that if, as we proceed, we <i>should</i> -come to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> a case in which the evidence is plainly against the theory -we are examining, we must give up the theory at once. For one case -of discordance does more to destroy a theory respecting association -between such and such phenomena, than a hundred cases of agreement -would do in the way of confirming it.</p> - -<p>In 1724, Maraldi noticed that the corona was broadest first on the side -towards which the moon was advancing, and afterwards on the side which -the moon was leaving. From this we may infer that the corona was only a -narrow ring on that occasion, since otherwise the slight difference of -breadth due to the moon's eccentric position at the beginning and end -of totality would not have been noticeable. Now, the year 1723 was one -of minimum disturbance, with one year of doubt either way. Thus 1724 -was certainly a year of few sun-spots, and may have been the actual -year of minimum disturbance. The corona then presented an appearance -according with the theory we are considering.</p> - -<p>Few eclipses have been better observed than that of the year 1733. -The Royal Society of Sweden invited all who could spare the time to -assist, as far as their ability permitted, in recording the phenomena -presented during totality. The pastor of Stona Malm states that at -Catherinesholm, there was a ring around the sun about 70,000 miles in -height. (Of course these are not his exact words; what he actually -stated was that the ring was about a digit in breadth.) This is the -exact height assigned to the coronal ring by the observers of the -eclipse of last year. The ring seemed to be of a reddish colour. -Another clergyman, Vallerius, states also that the ring was of this -colour, but adds that at a considerable distance from the sun it had -a greenish hue. This suggests the idea that the outer corona was seen -also by Vallerius, and that it had considerable breadth. The reddish -colour of the inner light portion would correspond to the colour it -would have if it consisted in the main of glowing hydrogen. If that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> -really was its constitution, then the theory advanced by one observer -of the last eclipse, that at the time of minimum solar disturbance the -glowing hydrogen is withdrawn from the corona, would be shown to be -incorrect. For 1733 was the actual year of minimum solar disturbance. -The pastor of Smoland states that 'during the total obscuration the -edge of the moon's disc resembled gilded brass, and the faint ring -round it emitted rays in an upward as well as in a downward direction, -similar to those seen beneath the sun when a shower of rain is -impending.' The mathematical lecturer of the Academy of Charles-stadt, -M. Edstrom, observed these rays with special attention: he says that -'they plainly maintained the same position, until they vanished along -with the ring upon the re-appearance of the sun.' On the other hand, -at Lincopia no rays were seen. On the whole it seems clear from the -accounts of this eclipse that the inner corona was bright and narrow; -rays issued from the outer faint ring; but they were very delicate -phenomena, easily concealed by atmospheric haze, and thus were not -everywhere observed. As rays were seen in July 1878, there is nothing -in the evidence afforded by the eclipse of 1733, occurring at a time -of few spots, which opposes itself definitely to the theory we are -considering. But the reddish colour of the corona as already noticed -is a doubtful feature: in July, 1878, the bright inner corona was of a -pearl colour and lustre.</p> - -<p>During the eclipse of February, 1766, the corona presented four -luminous expansions, and seems to have presented a greater expansion -than we should expect in a year of minimum solar disturbance. Such, -however, the year 1766 certainly was. The evidence in this case is -unfavourable to our theory—not quite decisively so, but strongly. -For we should expect that in the year of actual minimum disturbance -the corona would be even narrower than in the year 1878, which was -the year following that of least disturbance. And again, a strongly -distinctive feature in the corona of July, 1878, was the absence of -wide expansions, such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> as were seen in 1870 and 1871. Now if this -peculiarity should really be attributed to the relation existing -between the corona and the sun-spots, we should infer that in 1766 -the corona would have been still more markedly uniform in shape. The -existence of four well marked expansions on that occasion forces us -to assume that either the relation referred to has no real existence, -or else that the corona may change from week to week as the condition -of the sun's surface changes, and that in February, 1766, the sun was -temporarily disturbed, though the year, as a whole, was one of minimum -disturbance. But as the epoch of actual minimum was the middle of 1766, -February 1766 should have been a time of very slight disturbance. I -do not know of any observations of the sun recorded for the month of -February, 1766. On the whole, the eclipse of 1766 must be regarded as -throwing grave doubt on the relation assumed by our theory as existing -between the corona and the sun-spots; and as tending to suggest -that some wider law must be in question than the one we have been -considering—if any association really exists.</p> - -<p>The account given by Don Antonio d'Ulloa of the appearance presented -by the corona during the total eclipse of 1778, is rendered doubtful -by his reference to an apparent rotatory motion of the normal rays. -He says that about five or six seconds after totality had begun, a -brilliant luminous ring was seen around the dark body of the moon. -The ring became brighter as the middle of totality approached. 'About -the middle of the eclipse, the breadth of the ring was equal to -about a sixth of the moon's diameter. There seemed to issue from it -a great number of rays of unequal length, which could be discerned -to a distance equal to the moon's diameter.' Then comes the part of -d'Ulloa's description which seems difficult to accept. He says that the -corona 'seemed to be endued with a rapid rotatory motion, which caused -it to resemble a firework turning round its centre.' The colour of -the light, he proceeds, 'was not uniform throughout the whole breadth -of the ring. Towards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> the margin of the moon's disc it appeared of a -reddish hue; then it changed to a pale yellow, and from the middle -to the outer border the yellow gradually became fainter, until at -length it seemed almost quite white.' Setting aside the rays and their -rotation, d'Ulloa's account of the inner corona may be accepted as -satisfactory. The height of this ring was, it seems, about 140,000 -miles, or twice that of the ring seen in July 1878. As the year 1779 -was one of maximum solar disturbance, there were doubtless many spots -in 1778; and the aspect of the corona accorded well with the theory -that the corona expands as the number of sun-spots increases.</p> - -<p>We come now to three eclipses which are especially interesting as -having been all carefully observed, some observers having seen all -three,—the eclipses, namely, of 1842, 1851, and 1860. Unfortunately -the eclipses of 1842 and 1851 occurred when the sun-spots were neither -at their greatest nor at their least degree of frequency. For a maximum -of sun-spots occurred in 1837, and a minimum in 1844, so that 1842 was -on what may be called the descending slope of a sun-spot wave, nearer -the hollow than the crest, but not very near either: again, a maximum -occurred in 1848, and a minimum in 1856, so that 1851 was also on the -descending slope of a sun-spot wave, rather nearer the crest than the -hollow, but one may fairly say about midway between them. Still it is -essential in an inquiry of this sort to consider intermediate cases. -We must not only apply the <i>comparentia ad intellectum instantiarum -convenientium</i>, but also the <i>comparentia instantiarum secundum magis -ac minus</i>. If the existence of great solar disturbances causes the -corona to be greatly enlarged, as compared with the corona seen when -the sun shows no spots, we should expect to find the corona moderately -enlarged only when the sun shows a considerable but not the maximum -number of spots. And again, it is conceivable that we may find some -noteworthy difference between the aspect of the corona when sun-spots -are diminishing in number, and its aspect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> when they are increasing. -This point seems the more to need investigation when we note that -the evidence derived from eclipses occurring near the time either -of maximum or of minimum solar disturbance has not been altogether -satisfactory. It may be that we may find an explanation of the -discrepancies we have recognised, in some distinction between the state -of the corona when spots are increasing and when they are diminishing -in number.</p> - -<p>It is noteworthy that several careful observers of the corona in 1842 -believed that they could recognise motion in the coronal rays. Francis -Baily compared the appearance of the corona to the flickering light of -a gas illumination. O. Struve also was much struck by the appearance of -violent agitation in the light of the ring. It seems probable that the -appearance was due to movements in that part of our atmosphere through -which the corona was observed. The extent of the corona was variously -estimated by different observers. Petit, at Montpelier, assigned to -it a breadth corresponding to a height of about 200,000 miles; Baily -a height of about 500,000 miles; and O. Struve a height of more than -800,000 miles. The last-named observer also recognised luminous -expansions extending fully four degrees (corresponding to nearly seven -million miles) from the sun. Picozzi, at Milan, noticed two jets of -light, which were seen also by observers in France. Rays also were seen -by Mauvais at Perpignan, and by Baily at Paria. But Airy, observing the -corona from the Superga, could see no radiation; he says 'although a -slight radiation might have been perceptible, it was not sufficiently -intense to affect in a sensible degree the annular structure by which -the luminous appearance was plainly distinguished.' These varieties -in the aspect of the corona were doubtless due to varieties in the -condition of the atmosphere through which the corona was seen. Now it -cannot be questioned that, so far as extension is concerned, the corona -seen in 1842 was one which, if the theory we are considering were -sound, we should expect to see near the time of maximum rather than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> of -minimum solar disturbance. On the other hand, in brightness the corona -of 1842 resembled, if it did not surpass, that of July 1878.</p> - -<p>'I had imagined,' says Baily, 'that the corona, as to its brilliant or -luminous appearance, would not be greater than that faint crepuscular -light which sometimes takes place (<i>sic</i>) in a summer evening, and -that it would encircle the moon like a ring. I was therefore somewhat -surprised and astonished at the splendid scene which now so suddenly -burst upon my view.'</p> - -<p>The light of the corona was so bright, O. Struve states, that the naked -eye could scarcely endure it; 'many could not believe, indeed, that the -eclipse was total, so strongly did the corona's light resemble direct -sunlight.' Thus while as to extent the corona in 1842 presented the -appearance to be expected at the time of maximum solar disturbance, if -our theory is sound, its brightness was that corresponding to a time -of minimum disturbance. Its structure corresponded with the former -condition. The light of the corona was not uniform, nor merely marked -by radiations, but in several places interlacing lines of light could -be seen. Arago, at Perpignan, observed with the unaided eye a region -of the corona where the structure was as of intertwined jets giving an -appearance resembling a hank of thread in disorder.</p> - -<p>Certainly, for an eclipse occurring two years from the time of minimum, -and five years from the time of maximum disturbance, that of July, -1842,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> has not supplied evidence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> favouring the theory with which we -started. Whether any other theory of association between the corona and -the sun-spots will better accord with the evidence hitherto collected -remains to be seen.</p> - -<p>Turn we now to the eclipse of 1851, occurring nearly midway between -the epochs of maximum solar disturbance (1848) and minimum solar -disturbance (1856). I take the account given by Airy, our Government -astronomer, as he was one of the observers of the eclipse of 1842.</p> - -<p>'The corona was far broader,' he says, 'than that which I saw in -1842. Roughly speaking, the breadth was little less than the moon's -diameter, but its outline was very irregular. I did not notice any -beams projecting from it which deserved notice as much more conspicuous -than the others; but the whole was beamy, radiated in structure, and -terminated—though very indefinitely—in a way which reminded me of the -ornament frequently placed round a mariner's compass. Its colour was -white, or resembling that of Venus. I saw no flickering or unsteadiness -of light. It was not separated from the moon by any interval, nor had -it any annular structure. It looked like a radiated luminous cloud -behind the moon.'</p> - -<p>The corona thus described belongs to that which our theory associates -with the period of maximum rather than of minimum solar disturbance. -Definite peculiarities of structure seem to have been more numerous and -better marked than in 1842. It accords with our theory that 1851 was -a year of greater solar disturbance than was observed in 1842, as the -following numbers show:—</p> - -<table summary="days" width="45%"> -<tr> -<td> -</td> -<td align="right">Days of observation -</td> -<td align="right">Days without spots -</td> -<td align="right">New groups observed -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">1842 -</td> -<td align="right">307 -</td> -<td align="right">64 -</td> -<td align="right">68 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">1851 -</td> -<td align="right">308 -</td> -<td align="right">0 -</td> -<td align="right">141 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">1860 -</td> -<td align="right">332 -</td> -<td align="right">0 -</td> -<td align="right">211 -</td> -</tr> -</table> - - -<p>I have included the year 1860, as we now proceed to consider the corona -then seen by Airy. The year 1860 did not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> differ very markedly, it will -be observed, from 1851, as regards the number of new groups of spots -observed by Schwabe, especially when account is taken of the number of -days in which the sun was observed in these two years. But 1860 was a -year of maximum solar disturbance, whereas 1851 was not.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> - -<p>Airy remarks of the corona in 1860:—'It gave a considerable body, -but I did not remark either by eye-view or by telescope-view -anything annular in its structure; it appeared to me to resemble, -with some irregularities (as I stated in 1851), the ornament round a -compass-card.'</p> - -<p>Bruhns of Leipsic noted that the corona shone with an intense white -light, so lustrous as to dim the protuberances. He noticed that a ray -shot out to a distance of about one degree indicating a distance of at -least 1,500,000 miles from the sun's surface. This was unquestionably -a coronal appendage as neither the direction nor the length of the ray -varied for ten seconds, during which Bruhns directed his attention to -it. Its light was considerably feebler than that of the corona, which -was of a glowing white, and seemed to coruscate or twinkle. Bruhns -assigned to the inner corona a height varying from about 40,000 to -about 80,000 miles. But this was unquestionably far short of the true -height. In fact, Secchi's photographs show the corona extending to -a distance of at least 175,000 miles from the surface of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> sun. -Therefore probably what Bruhns calls the base of the corona was in -reality only the prominence region, and the inner corona was that which -he describes as varying in breadth or height from nearly one-half to -a quarter of a degree—that is from about 800,000 to about 400,000 -miles. De la Rue gives a somewhat similar general description of the -corona seen in 1860. He remarks that it was extremely bright near the -moon's body, and of a silvery whiteness. The picture of the corona by -Feilitsch (given at p. 343 of my book on the Sun) accords with these -descriptions.</p> - -<p>On the whole, the eclipse of 1860 affords evidence according well with -the theory we have been considering, except as regards the brightness -and the colour of the corona, which correspond more closely with what -was observed in July, 1878, with the lustre and colour of the corona -in 1870 and 1871. In this respect, it is singular that the eclipse of -1867, which occurred (see preceding note) when the sun spots were fewer -in number, presented a decided contrast to that of 1860,—the contrast -being, however, precisely the reverse of that which our theory would -require, if the colour and brightness of the corona be considered -essential features of any law of association.</p> - -<p>Herr Grosch, describing the corona of 1867, says, 'There appeared -around the moon a reddish glimmering light similar to that of the -aurora, and almost simultaneously with this (I mean very shortly after -it) the corona.' It is clear, however, from what follows, that the -reddish light was what is now commonly called the inner corona, which -last July, when the sun was in almost exactly the same condition as -regards the spots, was pearly white and intensely bright. 'This reddish -glimmer,' he proceeds, 'which surrounded the moon with a border of the -breadth of at most five minutes' (about 140,000 miles) 'was not sharply -bounded in any part, but was extremely diffused and less distinct in -the neighbourhood of the poles.' Of the outer corona he remarks that -'its apparent height amounted to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> about 280,000 miles opposite the -solar poles, but opposite the polar equator to about 670,000 miles. Its -light was white. This white light was not in the least radiated itself, -but it had the appearance of rays penetrating through it; or rather as -if rays ran over it, forming symmetrical pencils diverging outwards, -and passing far beyond the boundary of the white light. These rays had -a more bluish appearance, and might best be compared to those produced -by a great electro-magnetic light. Their similarity to these, indeed, -was so striking, that under other circumstances I should have taken -them for such, shining at a great distance. The view of the corona I -have described is that seen with the naked eye.... In the white light -of the corona, close upon the moon's edge, there appeared several dark -curves. They were symmetrically arched towards the east and west, -sharply drawn, and resembling in tint lines drawn with a lead pencil -upon white paper.... Beginning at a distance of one minute (about -26,000 miles), they could be traced up to a distance of about nine -minutes (some 236,000 miles) from the moon's edge.'</p> - -<p>Almost all the features observed in this case correspond closely with -those noted and photographed during the eclipse of December, 1871. -In other words the corona seen in 1867, when the sun was passing -through the period of least solar disturbance, closely resembled the -corona seen in 1871, when the sun was nearly in its stage of greatest -disturbance. Even the spectroscopic evidence obtained in 1871 and July, -1878, may be so extended as to show with extreme probability what would -have been seen in 1867 if spectroscopic analysis had then been applied. -We cannot doubt that the reddish inner corona, extending to a height of -about 140,000 miles, would have been found under spectroscopic analysis -to shine in part with the light of glowing hydrogen, as the reddish -corona of 1871 did. The white corona of July, 1878, on the contrary, -shone only with such light as comes from glowing solid or liquid -matter. Here then, again, the evidence is unfavourable to our theory;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> -for the corona in 1867 should have closely resembled the corona of -1878, if this theory were sound.</p> - -<p>It would be idle, I think, to seek for farther evidence either in -favour of the theory we originally proposed to discuss, or against it: -for the evidence of the eclipse of 1867 disposes finally of the theory -in that form. I may note in passing that the eclipse of 1868 gave -evidence almost equally unfavourable to the theory, while the evidence -given by the eclipse of 1869 was neutral. It will be desirable, -however, to consider, before concluding our inquiry, the evidence -obtained in 1871 and last July, in order that we may see what, after -all, that evidence may be regarded as fairly proving with regard to -coronal variations.</p> - -<p>First, however, as I have considered two eclipses which occurred when -the sun spots were decreasing in number—namely, those of 1842 and -1851, midway (roughly speaking) between the crest and hollow of the -sun-spot wave on its descending slope, it may be well to consider an -eclipse which was similarly situated with respect to the ascending -slope of a sun-spot wave. I take, then, the eclipse of 1858, as seen in -Brazil by Liais. The picture drawn by this observer is one of the most -remarkable views of the corona ever obtained. It is given at p. 339 of -my book on the Sun. Formerly it was the custom to deride this drawing, -but since the eclipse of 1871, when the corona was photographed, it -has been admitted that Liais's drawing may be accepted as thoroughly -trustworthy. It shows a wonderfully complex corona, like that of 1871, -extending some 700,000 miles from the sun, and corresponding in all -respects with such a corona as our theory (if established) would have -associated with the stage of maximum solar disturbance. As in this -respect the eclipse of 1858, when sun-spots were increasing, resembled -those of 1842 and 1851, when sun-spots were diminishing in number, -we find no trace of any law of association depending on the rate of -increase or diminution of solar disturbance.</p> - -<p>If we limited our attention to the eclipses of 1871 and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> of July, 1878, -we should unquestionably be led to adopt the belief that the corona -during a year of many spots differs markedly from the corona when the -sun shows few spots, or none. So far as the aspect of the corona is -concerned, I take the description given by the same observer in both -cases, as the comparison is thus freed as far as possible from the -effect of personal differences.</p> - -<p>Mr. Lockyer recognised in 1871 a corona resembling a star-like -decoration, with its rays arranged almost symmetrically—three -above and three below two dark spaces or rifts at the extremity of -a horizontal diameter. The rays were built up of innumerable bright -lines of different length, with more or less dark spaces between -them. Near the sun this structure was lost in the brightness of the -central ring, or inner corona. In the telescope he saw thousands of -interlacing filaments, varying in intensity. The rays so definite -to the eye were not seen in the telescope. The complex structure of -interlacing filaments could be traced only to a height of some five or -six minutes (from 135,000 to 165,000 miles) from the sun, there dying -out suddenly. The spectroscope showed that the inner corona, to this -height at least (but Respighi's spectroscopic observations prove the -same for a much greater distance from the sun), was formed in part -of glowing gas—hydrogen—and the vapour of some as yet undetermined -substance, shining with light of a green tint, corresponding to -1474 of Kirchhoff's scale. But also a part of the coronal light -came from matter which reflected sunlight; for its spectrum was the -rainbow-tinted streak crossed by dark lines, which we obtain from any -object illuminated by the sun's rays. It should be added that the -photographs of the corona in 1871 show the three great rays above and -three below, forming the appearance as of a star-like decoration, -described by Mr. Lockyer; insomuch as it is rather strange to find Mr. -Lockyer remarking that 'the difference between the photographic and -the visible corona came out strongly, ... and the non solar origin of -the radial structure was conclusively established.' The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> resemblance -is, indeed, not indicated in the rough copy of the photographs which -illustrates Mr. Lockyer's paper; but it is clearly seen in the -photographs themselves, and in the fine engraving which has been formed -from them for the illustration of the volume which the Astronomical -Society proposes to issue (some time in the present century, perhaps).</p> - -<p>Now, in July, 1878, the corona presented an entirely different -appearance. Mr. Lockyer, in a telegram sent to the <i>Daily News</i>, -describes it as small, of pearly lustre, and having indications of -definite structure in two places only. Several long rays were seen; but -the inner corona was estimated as extending to a height of about 70,000 -miles from the sun's surface. The most remarkable change, however, -was that which had taken place in the character of the corona's -spectrum—or, in other words, in the physical structure of the corona. -The bright lines or bright images of the inner corona (according as -it was examined through a slit or without one) were not seen in July, -1878, showing that no part, or at least no appreciable part, of its -light came from glowing gaseous matter. But also the dark lines seen by -Janssen in 1871 were wanting on this occasion, showing that the corona -did not shine appreciably by reflecting sunlight. The spectrum was, in -fine, a continuous rainbow-tinted streak, such as that given by glowing -solid or liquid matter.</p> - -<p>The inference clearly is: 1. That in July, 1878, the gaseous matter -which had been present in the corona in 1871 was either entirely absent -or greatly reduced in quantity; 2. The particles of solid or liquid -(but probably solid) matter which, by reflecting sunlight, produced a -considerable portion of the corona's light in 1871, were glowing with -heat in July, 1878, and shone in the main with this inherent light; -and 3. The entire corona was greatly reduced in size in July, 1878, as -compared with that which formed the 'star-like decoration' around the -black body of the moon in December, 1871.</p> - -<p>We cannot, however, accept the theory that such a corona as was seen -in 1871 invariably surrounds the sun in years of great disturbance, -while the corona of last month<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> is the typical corona for years of -small solar disturbance. The generalisation is flatly contradicted -by the evidence which I have presented in the preceding pages. It -may be that such a corona as was seen in 1871 is common in years of -great disturbance, just as spots are then more common, though not -always present; while such a corona as was seen in July, 1878, is more -common in years of small disturbance, just as days when the sun is -wholly without spots are then more common, though from time to time -several spots, and sometimes very large spots, are seen in such years. -On the whole, I think the evidence I have collected favours rather -strongly the inference that an association of this sort really exists -between the corona and the sun-spots. It would, however, be unsafe at -present to generalise even to this extent; while certainly the wide -generalisation telegraphed to Europe from America as the great result -of the eclipse observations in July, 1878, must unhesitatingly be -rejected.</p> - -<p>It remains to be considered how science may hope to obtain more -trustworthy evidence than we yet have respecting the corona and its -changes of form, extent, lustre, and physical constitution. In the case -of the prominences, we have the means of making systematic observations -on every fine, clear day. It has been, indeed, through observations -thus effected by the spectroscopic method that an association has been -recognised between the number, size, and brilliancy of the prominences -on the one hand, and the number, size, and activity of the sun-spots -on the other. But in the case of the corona, we are as yet unable to -make any observations except at the time of total solar eclipse. It -seems almost impossible to hope that any means can be devised for -seeing the corona at any other time. Of course, without the aid of the -spectroscope the corona, as ordinarily seen during total eclipses, must -be entirely invisible when the sun is shining in full splendour. No one -acquainted with even the merest elements of optics could hope to see -the corona with an ordinary telescope at such a time. The spectroscope, -again, would not help in the slightest degree to show<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> such a corona as -was shining in July, 1878. For the power of the spectroscope to show -objects which under ordinary conditions are invisible, depends on the -separation of rays of certain tints from the rays of all the colours -of the rainbow, which make up solar light; and as the corona in July, -1878, shone with all the colours of the rainbow, and not with certain -special tints, the power of the spectroscope would be thrown away on a -corona of that kind. All that we can ever hope to do is to discern the -gaseous corona when, as in 1871, it is well developed, by spectroscopic -appliances more effective for that purpose than any which have hitherto -been adopted; for all which have as yet been adopted have failed.</p> - -<p>Now, the difficulty of the problem will be recognised when we remember -that the strongest tints of the corona's light—the green tint -classified as 1474 Kirchhoff—has been specially but ineffectually -searched for in the sun's neighbourhood with the most powerful -spectroscopic appliances yet employed in the study of the coloured -prominences. In other words, when the light of our own air over the -region occupied by the corona has been diluted as far as possible -by spectroscopic contrivances, the strongest of the special coronal -tints has yet failed to show through the diluted spectrum of the sky. -Again, we have even stronger evidence of the difficulty of the task in -the spectroscopic observations made by Respighi during the eclipse of -1871. The instrument, or I should rather, perhaps, say the arrangement, -which during mid totality showed the green image of the corona to a -height of about 280,000 miles, did not show any green ring at all at -the beginning of totality. In other words, so faint is the light of the -gaseous corona, even at its brightest part, close to the sun, that the -faint residual atmospheric light which illuminates the sky over the -eclipsed sun at the beginning of totality sufficed to obliterate this -part of the coronal light.</p> - -<p>Whether with any combination specially directed to meet the -difficulties of this observation, the gaseous corona<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> can be rendered -discernible, remains to be seen. I must confess my own hopes that the -problem will ever be successfully dealt with are very slight, though -not absolutely evanescent. It seems to me barely possible that the -problem might be successfully attacked in the following way. Using a -telescope of small size, for the larger the telescope the fainter is -the image (because of greater loss of light by absorption), let the -image of the sun be received in a small, perfectly darkened camera -attached to the eye-end of the telescope. Now if the image of the sun -were received on a smooth white surface we know that the prominences -and the corona would not be visible. And again, if the part of such -a surface on which the image of the sun itself fell were exactly -removed, we know (the experiment has been tried by Airy) that the -prominences would not be seen on the ring of white surface left after -such excision. Still less, then, would the much fainter image of the -corona be seen. But if this ring of white surface, illuminated in -reality by the sky, by the ring of prominences and sierra, and by -the corona, were examined through a battery of prisms (used without -a slit) adjusted to any one of the known prominence tints, the ring -of prominences and sierra would be seen in that special tint. If the -battery of prisms were sufficiently effective, and the tint were one of -the hydrogen tints—preferably, perhaps, the red—we might possibly be -able to trace the faint image of the corona in that tint. But we should -have a better chance with the green tint corresponding to the spectral -line 1474 Kirchhoff. If the ring of white surface were replaced by a -ring of green surface, the tint being as nearly that of 1474 Kirchhoff -as possible, the chance of seeing the coronal ring in that tint would -be somewhat increased; and, still further, perhaps, if the field of -view were examined through green glass of the same tint. It seems just -possible that if prisms of triple height were used, through which the -rays were carried three times, by an obvious modification of the usual -arrangement for altering the level of the rays, thus giving a power of -eighteen flint<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> glass prisms of sixty degrees each, evidence, though -slight perhaps, might be obtained of the presence of the substance -which produces the green line. Thus variations in the condition of -the corona might be recognised, and any law affecting such variations -might be detected. I must confess, however, that a consideration of -the optical relations involved in the problem leads me to regard the -attempt to recognise any traces of the corona when the sun is not -eclipsed as almost hopeless.</p> - -<p>It is clear that until some method for thus observing the corona has -been devised, future eclipse observations will acquire a new interest -from the light which they may throw on the coronal variations, and -their possible association in some way, not as yet detected, with the -sun-spot period. Even when a method has been devised for observing the -gaseous corona, the corona whose light comes either directly or by -reflection from solid or liquid matter will still remain undiscernible -save only during total eclipses of the sun. Many years must doubtless -pass, then, before the relation of the corona to the prominences and -the sun-spots shall be fully recognised. But there can be no question -that the solution of this problem will be well worth waiting for, even -though it should not lead up (as it most probably will) to the solution -of the mystery of the periodic changes which affect the surface of the -sun.</p> - - - - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The actual condition of the sun in 1842 may be inferred -from the following table, showing the number of spots observed in 1837 -the preceding year of maximum disturbance, in 1842, and in 1844 the -following year of minimum disturbance; the observer was Schwabe of -Dessau: -</p> - -<table summary="days" width="45%"> -<tr> -<td> -</td> -<td align="right">Days of observation -</td> -<td align="right">Days without spots -</td> -<td align="right">New groups observed -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right">1837 -</td> -<td align="right">168 -</td> -<td align="right">307 -</td> -<td align="right">321 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">1842 -</td> -<td align="right">0 -</td> -<td align="right">94 -</td> -<td align="right">111 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">1844 -</td> -<td align="right">333 -</td> -<td align="right">68 -</td> -<td align="right">52 -</td> -</tr> -</table> - -<p> -Only it should be noticed that nearly all the spots seen in the year -1844 belonged to the next period, the time of actual minimum occurring -early in 1844.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> The following table shows the position occupied by the -years 1851 and 1860 in this report, as compared with the year 1848 -(maximum next preceding 1851), 1856 (minimum next following 1851) and -1867, minimum next following 1860:— -</p> - -<table summary="days" width="45%"> -<tr> -<td> -</td> -<td align="right">Days of observation -</td> -<td align="right">Days without spots -</td> -<td align="right">New groups observed -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">1848 -</td> -<td align="right">278 -</td> -<td align="right">0 -</td> -<td align="right">930 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">1851 -</td> -<td align="right">308 -</td> -<td align="right">0 -</td> -<td align="right">141 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">1856 -</td> -<td align="right">321 -</td> -<td align="right">193 -</td> -<td align="right">34 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">1860 -</td> -<td align="right">332 -</td> -<td align="right">0 -</td> -<td align="right">211 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td align="right">1867 -</td> -<td align="right">312 -</td> -<td align="right">195 -</td> -<td align="right">25 -</td> -</tr> -</table> - - - -<p> -A comparison of the three tables given in these notes and the text will -afford some idea of the irregularities existing in the various waves of -sun-spots. -</p></div></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> - -<p class="ph2"><a name="SUN-SPOTS_AND_COMMERCIAL_PANICS" id="SUN-SPOTS_AND_COMMERCIAL_PANICS"><i>SUN-SPOTS AND COMMERCIAL PANICS.</i></a></p> - - -<p>We are not only, it would seem, to regard the sun as the ultimate -source of all forms of terrestrial energy, existent or potential, but -as regulating in a much more special manner the progress of mundane -events. Many years have passed since Sabine, Wolf, and Gauthier -asserted that variations in the daily oscillations of the magnetic -needle appear to synchronise with the changes taking place in the -sun's condition, the oscillations attaining their <i>maximum</i> average -range in years when the sun shows most spots, and their <i>minimum</i> -range when there are fewest spots. And although it is well known that -the Astronomer Royal in England and the President of the Academy -of Sciences in France reject this doctrine, it still remains in -vogue. True, the average magnetic period appears to be about 10.45 -years, while Wolf obtains for the sun-spot period 11.11 years; but -believers in the connection between terrestrial magnetic disturbances -and sun-spots consider that among the imperfect records of the past -condition of the sun Wolf must have lost sight of one particular wave -of sun-spots, so to speak. If there have been 24 such waves between -1611 and 1877, when sun-spots were fewest, we get Wolf's period -of 11.11 years; if there have been 25 such waves then, taking an -admissible estimate for the earliest epoch, we get 10.45 -years, the period required to synchronise with the period of -terrestrial magnetic changes. The matter must be regarded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> as still -<i>sub judice</i>. This, however, is only one relation out of many now -suggested. Displays of the aurora, being unquestionably dependent on -the magnetic condition of the earth, would of course be associated -with the sun spot period, if the magnetic period is so; and certainly -the most remarkable displays of the aurora in recent times have -occurred when the sun has shown many spots. Yet this of itself proves -nothing more than had been already known—namely, that the last few -magnetic periods have nearly synchronised with the last few sun-spot -periods. It is rather strange, too, that no auroras are mentioned in -the English records for 80 years preceding the aurora of 1716, and in -the records of the Paris Academy of Sciences one only—that of 1666, -which occurred when sun-spots were fewest. The great aurora of 1723, -seen as far south as Bologna, also occurred at the time of <i>minimum</i> -solar activity. Here we are not depending on either Wolf's period of 11 -years or Brown's of 10½ years; from records of actual observation it -is known that in 1666 and 1713 there were no sun-spots. In fact it is -worth mentioning that Cassini, writing in 1671, says, 'It is now about -20 years since astronomers have seen any considerable spots on the -sun,' a circumstance which throws grave doubt on the law of sun-spot -periodicity itself. It is at least certain that the interval from -<i>maximum</i>, spot-frequency to <i>maximum</i>, or from <i>minimum</i> to <i>minimum</i>, -has sometimes fallen far short of 9 years, and has at others exceeded -18 years.</p> - -<p>It appears again that certain meteorological phenomena show a tendency, -more or less marked, to run through a ten-year cycle. Thus, from the -records of rainfall kept at Oxford it appears that more rain fell under -west and south-west winds when sun-spots were largest and most numerous -than under south and south-east winds, these last being the more rainy -winds when sun-spots were least in size and fewest in number. This -is a somewhat recondite relation, and at least proves that earnest -search has been made for such cyclic relations as we are considering. -But this is not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> all. When other records were examined, the striking -circumstance was discovered that elsewhere, as at St. Petersburg, the -state of things observed at Oxford was precisely reversed. At some -intermediate point between Oxford and St. Petersburg, no doubt the -rainfall under the winds named was equally distributed throughout the -spot period. Moreover, as the conditions thus differ at different -places, we may assume that they differ also at different times. Such -relations appear then to be not only recondite, but complicated.</p> - -<p>When we learn that during nearly two entire sun-spot periods cyclones -have been somewhat more numerous in the Indian Seas when spots are -most numerous than when the sun is without spots, and <i>vice versâ</i>, -we recognise the possible existence of cyclic relations better worth -knowing than those heretofore mentioned. The evidence is not absolutely -decisive; some, indeed, regard it as scarcely trustworthy. Yet there -does seem to have been an excess of cyclonic disturbance during the -last two periods of great solar disturbance, precisely as there was -also an excess of magnetic disturbance during those periods. The -excess was scarcely sufficient, however, to justify the rather daring -statement made by one observer, that 'the whole question of cyclones -is merely a question of solar activity.' We had records of some very -remarkable cyclonic disturbances during the years 1876 and 1877, when -the sun showed very few spots, the actual <i>minimum</i> of disturbance -having probably been reached late in 1877. A prediction that 1877 would -be a year of few and slight storms would have proved disastrous if -implicit reliance had been placed on it by seamen and travellers.</p> - -<p>Rainfall and atmospheric pressure in India have been found to vary -in a cyclic manner, of late years at any rate, the periods being -generally about 10 or 11 years. The activity of the sun, as shown by -the existence of many spots, apparently makes more rainfall at Madras, -Najpore, and some other places; while at Calcutta, Bombay, Mysore,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> -and elsewhere it produces a contrary effect. Yet these effects are -produced in a somewhat capricious way: for sometimes the year of actual -<i>maximum</i> spot frequency is one in which rainfall is below the average -(instead of above) at the former stations, and above the average -(instead of below) at the latter. It is only by taking averages—and in -a somewhat artificial manner—that the relation seems to be indicated -on which stress has been laid.</p> - -<p>Since Indian famines are directly dependent on defective rainfall, it -is natural that during the years over which observation has hitherto -extended the connection apparently existing between sun-spots and -Indian rainfall should seem also to extend itself to Indian famines. It -was equally to be expected that since cyclones have been rather more -numerous, for some time past, in years when sun-spots have been most -numerous, shipwrecks should also have been somewhat more frequent in -such years. Two years ago Mr. Jeula gave some evidence which, in his -opinion, indicated such a connection between sun-spots and shipwrecks. -He showed that in the four years of fewest spots the mean percentage -of losses was 8.64; in four intermediate years the mean percentage was -9.21; in three remaining years of the eleven-year cycle—that is, in -three years of greatest spot frequency the mean percentage was 9.53. -Some suggested that possibly such events as the American war, which -included two of the three years of greatest spot frequency, may have -had more effect than sun-spots in increasing the percentage of ships -lost; while perhaps, the depression following the commercial panic of -1866 (at a time of fewest sun-spots) may have been almost as effective -in reducing the percentage of losses as the diminished area of solar -maculation. But others consider that we ought rather to regard the -American war as yet another product of the sun's increased activity in -1860-61, and the great commercial panic of 1866 as directly resulting -from diminished sun-spots at that time, thus obtaining fresh evidence -of the sun's specific influence on terrestrial phenomena<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> instead of -explaining away the evidence derived from Lloyd's list of losses.</p> - -<p>This leads us to the last, and, in some respects, the most singular -suggestion respecting solar influence on mundane events—the idea, -namely, that commercial crises synchronise with the sun-spot period, -occurring near the time when spots are least in size and fewest in -number; or, as Professor Jevons (to whom the definite enunciation of -this theory is due) poetically presents the matter, that from 'the sun, -which is truly "of this great world both eye and soul," we derive our -strength and our weakness, our success and our failure, our elation in -commercial mania, and our despondency and ruin in commercial collapse.' -We have better opportunities of dealing with this theory than with the -others, for we have records of commercial matters extending as far back -as the beginning of the eighteenth century. In fact, we have better -evidence than Professor Jevons seems to have supposed, for whereas in -his discussion of the matter he considers only the probable average -of the sun-spot period, we know approximately the epochs themselves -at which the <i>maxima</i> and <i>minima</i> of sun spots have occurred since -the year 1700. The evidence as presented by Professor Jevons is very -striking, though when examined in detail it is rather disappointing. -He presents the whole series of decennial crises as follows:—1701? -(such query marks are his own), 1711, 1721, 1731-32, 1742 (?), 1752 -(?), 1763, 1772-73, 1783, 1793, 1804-5 (?), 1815, 1825, 1836-9 (1837 -in the United States), 1847, 1857, 1866 and 1878. The average interval -comes out 10.466 years, showing, as Jevons points out, 'almost perfect -coincidence with Brown's estimate of the average sun-spot period.' Let -us see, however, whether these dates correspond so closely with the -years of <i>minimum</i> spot-frequency as to remove all doubt. Taking 5¼ -years as the average interval between <i>maximum</i> and <i>minimum</i> sun-spot -frequency, we should like to find every crisis occurring within a year -or so on either side of the <i>minimum</i> though we should prefer perhaps -to find the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> crisis always following the time of fewest sun-spots, -as this would more directly show the depressing effect of a spotless -sun. No crisis ought to occur within a year or so of <i>maximum</i> solar -disturbance; for that, it should seem, would be fatal to the suggested -theory. Taking the commercial crises in order, and comparing them with -the known (or approximately known) epochs of <i>maximum</i> and <i>minimum</i> -spot frequency, we obtain the following results (we italicize numbers -or results unfavourable to the theory):—The doubtful crisis of 1701 -followed a spot <i>minimum</i> by <i>three</i> years; the crisis of 1711 preceded -a <i>minimum</i> by one year; that of 1721 preceded a <i>minimum</i> by two -years; 1731-32, preceded a <i>minimum</i> by one year; 1742 preceded a -<i>minimum</i> by <i>three</i> years; 1752 followed a <i>maximum</i> by <i>two</i> years; -1763 followed a <i>maximum</i> by <i>a year and a half</i>; 1772-73 came <i>midway</i> -between a <i>maximum</i> and a <i>minimum</i>; 1783 preceded a <i>minimum</i> by -nearly two years; 1793 came nearly midway between a <i>maximum</i> and a -<i>minimum</i>; 1804-5 coincided with a <i>maximum</i>; 1815 preceded a <i>maximum</i> -by two years; 1825 followed a <i>minimum</i> by <i>two</i> years; 1836-39 -<i>included</i> the year 1837 of <i>maximum</i> solar activity (that year being -the time also when a commercial crisis occurred in the United States); -1847 preceded a <i>maximum</i> by a <i>year and a half</i>; 1866 preceded a -<i>minimum</i> by a year; and 1878 followed a <i>minimum</i> by a year. Four -favourable cases out of 17 can hardly be considered convincing. If we -include cases lying within two years of a <i>minimum</i>, the favourable -cases mount up to seven, leaving ten unfavourable ones. It must be -remembered, too, that a single decidedly unfavourable case (as 1804, -1815, 1837) does more to disprove such a theory than 20 favourable -cases would do towards establishing it. The American panic of 1873, -by the way, which occurred when spots were very numerous, decidedly -impairs the evidence derived from the crises of 1866 and 1878.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="NEW_PLANETS_NEAR_THE_SUN" id="NEW_PLANETS_NEAR_THE_SUN"><i>NEW PLANETS NEAR THE SUN.</i></a></p> - - -<p>Perhaps no scientific achievement during the present century has been -deemed more marvellous than the discovery of the outermost member (so -far as is known) of the sun's family of planets. In many respects, -apart from the great difficulty of the mathematical problem involved, -the discovery appealed strongly to the imagination. A planet seventeen -hundred millions of miles from the sun had been discovered in March, -1781, by a mere accident, though the accident was not one likely to -occur to any one but an astronomer constantly studying the star-depths. -Engaged in such observation, but with no idea of enlarging the known -domain of the sun, Sir W. Herschel perceived the distant planet Uranus. -His experienced eye at once recognised the fact that the stranger -was not a fixed star. He judged it to be a comet. It was not until -several weeks had elapsed that the newly discovered body was proved -to be a planet, travelling nearly twice as far away from the sun as -Saturn, the remotest planet before known. A century only had elapsed -since the theory of gravitation had been established. Yet it was at -once perceived how greatly this theory had increased the power of the -astronomer to deal with planetary motions. Before a year had passed -more was known about the motions of Uranus than had been learned about -the motion of any of the old planets during the two thousand years -preceding the time of Copernicus. It was possible to calculate in -advance the position of the newly discovered planet, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> calculate -retrogressively the path along which it had been travelling, unseen -and unsuspected, during the century preceding its discovery. And now -observations which many might have judged to be of little value, came -in most usefully. Astronomers since the discovery of the telescope had -formed catalogues of the places of many hundreds of stars invisible to -the naked eye. Search among the observations by which such catalogues -had been formed, revealed the fact that Uranus had been seen and -catalogued as a fixed star twenty-one several times! Flamsteed had seen -it five times, each time recording it as a star of the sixth magnitude, -so that five of Flamsteed's stars had to be cancelled from his lists. -Lemonnier had actually seen Uranus twelve times, and only escaped the -honour of discovering the planet (as such) through the most marvellous -carelessness, his astronomical papers being, as Arago said, 'a very -picture of chaos.' Bradley saw Uranus three times.<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Mayer saw the -planet once only.</p> - -<p>It was from the study of the movements of Uranus as thus seen, combined -with the planet's progress after its discovery, that mathematicians -first began to suspect the existence of some unknown disturbing body. -The observations preceding the discovery of the planet range over an -interval of ninety years and a few months, the earliest observation -used being one made by Flamsteed on December 23, 1690. There is -something very strange in the thought that science was able thus to -deal with the motions of a planet for nearly a century before the -planet was known. Astronomy calculated in the first place where the -planet had been during that time; and then, from records made by -departed observers, who had had no suspicion of the real nature of the -body they were observing, Astronomy corrected her calculations, and -deduced more rigorously the true nature of the new planet's motions.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> - -<p>But still stranger and more impressive is the thought that from -researches such as these, Astronomy should be able to infer the -existence of a planet a thousand million miles further away than Uranus -itself. How amazing it would have seemed to Flamsteed, for example, if -on that winter evening in 1693, when he first observed Uranus, he had -been told that the orb which he was entering in his lists as a star of -the sixth magnitude was not a star at all, and that the observation he -was then making would help astronomers a century and a half later to -discover an orb a hundred times larger than the earth, and travelling -thirty times farther away from the sun.</p> - -<p>Even more surprising, however, than any of the incidents which preceded -the discovery of Neptune was this achievement itself. That a planet so -remote as to be quite invisible to the naked eye, never approaching -our own earth within less than twenty-six hundred millions of miles, -never even approaching Uranus within less than nine hundred and fifty -millions of miles, should be detected by means of those particular -perturbations (among many others) which it produced upon a planet not -yet known for three-quarters of a century, seemed indeed surprising. -Yet even this was not all. As if to turn a wonderful achievement into -a miracle of combined skill and good fortune, came the announcement -that, after all, the planet discovered in the spot to which Adams -and Leverrier pointed was not the planet of their calculations, but -travelled in an orbit four or five hundred millions of miles nearer to -the sun than the orbit which had been assigned to the unknown body. -Many were led to suppose that nothing but a most marvellous accident -had rewarded with such singular success the calculations of Adams -and Leverrier. Others were even more surprised to learn that the new -planet departed strangely from the law of distances which all the other -planets of the solar system seemed to obey. For according to that law -(called Bode's law) the distance of Neptune, instead of being about -thirty times, should have been thirty-nine times the earth's distance -from the sun.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> - -<p>In some respects the discovery of a planet nearer to the sun than -Mercury may seem to many far inferior in interest to the detection of -the remote giant Neptune. Between Mercury and the sun there intervenes -a mean distance of only thirty-six millions of miles, a distance -seeming quite insignificant beside those which have been dealt with -in describing the discovery of Uranus and Neptune. Again it is quite -certain that any planet between Mercury and the sun must be far -inferior to our own earth in size and mass, whereas Neptune exceeds -the earth 105 times in size and 17 times in mass. Thus a much smaller -region has to be searched over for a much smaller body. Moreover, -while mathematical calculation cannot deal nearly so exactly with an -intra-Mercurial planet as with Neptune, for there are no perturbations -of Mercury which give the slightest information as to the orbital -position of his disturber, the part of the heavens occupied by the -intra-Mercurial planet is known without calculation, seeing that the -planet must always lie within six or seven degrees or so of the sun, -and can never be very far from the ecliptic.</p> - -<p>Yet in reality the detection of an intra-Mercurial planet is a problem -of far greater difficulty than that of such a planet as Neptune, while -even now when most astronomers consider that an intra-Mercurial planet -has been detected, the determination of its orbit is a problem which -seems to present almost insuperable difficulties.</p> - -<p>I may remark, indeed, with regard to Neptune, that he might have been -successfully searched for without a hundredth part of the labour and -thought actually devoted to his detection. It may sound rather daring -to assert that any fairly good geometrician could have pointed after -less than an hour's calculation, based on the facts known respecting -Uranus in 1842, to a region within which the disturbing planet must -certainly lie,—a region larger considerably no doubt than that to -which Adams and Leverrier pointed, yet a region which a single observer -could have swept over adequately in half-a-dozen favourable evenings, -two such surveys sufficing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> to discover the disturbing planet. I -believe, however, that no one who examines the evidence will deny -the accuracy of this statement. It was manifest, from the nature of -the perturbations experienced by Uranus, that between 1820 and 1825 -Uranus and the unknown body had been in conjunction. From this it -followed that the disturber must be behind Uranus in 1840-1845 by about -one-eighth of a revolution round the sun. With the assumptions made -by Adams and Leverrier, indeed, the position of the stranger in this -respect could have been more closely determined. There could be little -doubt that the disturbing planet must be near the ecliptic. It followed -that the planet must lie somewhere on a strip of the heavens, certainly -not more than ten degrees long and about three degrees broad, but the -probable position of the planet would be indicated as within a strip -four degrees long and two broad.<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> Such a strip could be searched over -effectually in the time I have named above, and the planet would have -been found in it. The larger region (ten degrees long and three broad) -could have been searched over in the same time by two observers. If -indeed the single observer used a telescope powerful enough to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> detect -the difference of aspect between the disc of Neptune and the point-like -image of a star (the feature by which Galle, it will be remembered, -recognised Neptune), a single night would have sufficed for the search -over the smaller of the above-mentioned regions, and two nights for the -search over the larger. The search over the smaller, as already stated, -would have revealed the disturbing planet.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, the astronomer could not determine the direction of -an intra-Mercurial planet within a considerably larger space on the -heavens, while the search over the space within which such a planet was -to be looked for was attended by far more serious difficulties than the -search for Neptune. In fact, it seems as though, even when astronomers -have learned where to look for such a planet, they cannot expect to see -it under ordinary atmospheric conditions when the sun is not eclipsed.</p> - -<p>Let us consider the history of the search for an intra-Mercurial planet -from the time when first the idea was suggested that such a planet -exists until the time of its actual discovery—for so it seems we must -regard the observations made during the total eclipse of July, 1878.</p> - -<p>On January 2, 1860, M. Leverrier announced, in a paper addressed to -the Academy of Sciences, that the observations of Mercury could not -be reconciled with the received elements of the planet. According to -those elements, the point of Mercury's orbit which lies nearest to the -sun undergoes a certain motion which would carry it entirely round in -about 230,000 years. But to account for the observed motions of Mercury -as determined from twenty-one transits over the sun between the years -1697 and 1848, a slight increase in this motion of the perihelion was -required, an increase, in fact, from 581 seconds of arc in a century -to nearly 585. The result would involve, he showed, an increase in -our estimate of the mass of Venus by a full tenth. But such a change -would necessarily lead to difficulties in other directions; for the -mass of Venus had been determined from observations of changes in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> -position of the earth's path, and these changes had been too carefully -determined to be readily regarded as erroneous. 'This result naturally -filled me with inquietude,' said Leverrier later. 'Had I not allowed -some error in the theory to escape me? New researches, in which every -circumstance was taken into account by different methods, ended only in -the conclusion that the theory was correct, but that it did not agree -with the observations.' At last, after long and careful investigation -of the matter, he found that a certain slight change would bring -observation and theory into agreement. All that was necessary was -to assume that matter as yet undiscovered exists in the sun's -neighbourhood. 'Does it consist,' he asked, 'of one or more planets, or -other more minute asteroids, or only of cosmical dust? The theory tells -us nothing on this point.'</p> - -<p>Leverrier pointed out that a planet half the size of Mercury between -Mercury and the sun would account for the discrepancy between -observation and theory. But a planet of that size would be a very -conspicuous object at certain times, even when the sun was not -eclipsed; and when favourably placed during eclipses would be a -resplendent orb which would attract the notice of even the most -careless observer. For we must remember that the brightness of a -planet depends in part on its size and its distance from the earth, -and in part on its distance from the sun. A planet half as large as -Mercury would have a diameter about four-fifths of Mercury's, and at -equal distance would present a disc about two-thirds of Mercury's in -apparent size. But supposing the planet to be half as far from the sun -as Mercury (and theory required that the planet should be rather nearer -the sun), its surface would be illuminated four times as brightly as -that of Mercury. Hence, with a disc two-thirds as large as Mercury's, -but illuminated four times as brightly, the planet would shine -nearly three times as brilliantly when seen under equally favourable -conditions during eclipse. In such an inquiry, the mean distance of the -two bodies need not be specially considered.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> Each planet would be seen -most favourably when in the part of its path remotest from the earth, -so that the planet nearest to the sun would on the whole have the -advantage of any difference due to that cause. For, of course, while -Mercury, being farther from the sun, approaches the earth nearer when -between the earth and sun, he recedes farther from the sun for the same -reason when on the part of his path beyond the sun.</p> - -<p>It was perfectly clear that no such planet as Leverrier considered -necessary to reconcile theory and observation exists between the sun -and Mercury's orbit. It appeared necessary, therefore, to assume that -either there must be several smaller planets, or else that a cloud of -cosmical dust surrounds the sun. Now it is to be noticed that in either -case the entire mass of matter between Mercury and the sun must be -greater to produce the observed disturbance than the mass of a single -planet travelling at the outside of the region supposed to be occupied -either by a group of planets or a cloud of meteorites.</p> - -<p>Leverrier considered the existence of a ring of small planets afforded -the most probable explanation. He recommended astronomers to search -for such bodies. It is noteworthy that it was in reference to this -suggestion that M. Faye (following a suggestion of Sir J. Herschel's) -proposed that at several observatories, suitably selected, the sun -should be photographed several times every day with a powerful -telescope. 'I have myself,' he says, 'shown how to give these -photographs the value of an astronomical observation by taking two -impressions on the same plate after an interval of two minutes. It will -be sufficient to superpose the transparent negatives of this size taken -at a quarter of an hour's interval, to distinguish immediately the -movable projection of a small planet in the middle of the most complex -groups of small spots.'</p> - -<p>It was while Leverrier and Faye were discussing this matter, that news -came of the recognition of an intra-Mercurial planet by Lescarbault, -a doctor residing at Orgères, in the department of Eure et Loire. The -story<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> has been so often told that I am loth to occupy space with it -here. An account is given of the leading incidents in an article called -'The Planets put in Leverrier's Balance,' in my 'Science Byways,' -and a somewhat more detailed narrative in my 'Myths and Marvels of -Astronomy.' Here, it will suffice to give a very slight sketch of this -interesting episode in the history of astronomy.</p> - -<p>On January 2, 1860, news reached Leverrier that Lescarbault had on -March 26, 1859, seen a round black spot on the sun's face, and had -watched it travelling across like a planet in transit. It had remained -in view for one hour and a quarter. Leverrier could not understand why -three-quarters of a year had been allowed to elapse before so important -an observation had been published. He went to Orgères with the idea -of exposing a pretender. The interview was a strange one. Leverrier -was stern and, to say the truth, exceedingly rude in his demeanour, -Lescarbault singularly lamb-like. If our chief official astronomer -called uninvited upon some country gentleman who had announced an -astronomical discovery, and behaved as Leverrier did to Lescarbault, -there would most certainly have been trouble; but Lescarbault seems -to have been rather pleased than otherwise. 'So you are the man,' -said Leverrier, looking fiercely at the doctor, 'who pretends to have -seen an intra-Mercurial planet. You have committed a grave offence in -hiding your observation, supposing you really have made it, for nine -months. You are either dishonest or deceived. Tell me at once and -without equivocation what you have seen.' Lescarbault described his -observation. Leverrier asked for his chronometer, and, hearing that -the doctor used only his watch, the companion of his professional -journeys, asked how he could pretend to estimate seconds with an old -watch. Lescarbault showed a silk pendulum 'beating seconds,'—though it -would have been more correct to say 'swinging seconds.' Leverrier then -examined the doctor's telescope, and presently asked for the record -of the observations. Lescarbault produced it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> written on a piece of -laudanum-stained paper which at the moment was doing service as a -marker in the <i>Connaissance des Temps</i>. Leverrier asked Lescarbault -what distance he had deduced for the new planet. The doctor replied -that he had been unable to deduce any, not being a mathematician: he -had made many attempts, however.<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Hearing this, Leverrier asked for -the rough draft of these ineffective calculations. 'My rough draft?' -said the doctor. 'Paper is rather scarce with us here. I am a joiner as -well as an astronomer' (we can imagine the expression of Leverrier's -face at this moment); 'I calculate in my workshop, and I write upon the -boards; and when I wish to use them in new calculations, I remove the -old ones by planing.' On adjourning to the carpenter's shop, however, -they found the board with its lines and its numbers in chalk still -unobliterated.</p> - -<p>This last piece of evidence, though convincing Leverrier that -Lescarbault was no mathematician, and therefore probably in his eyes -no astronomer, yet satisfied him as to the good faith of the doctor of -Orgères. With a grace and dignity full of kindness, which must have -afforded a singular contrast to his previous manner, he congratulated -Lescarbault on his important discovery. He made some inquiry also at -Orgères, concerning the private character of Lescarbault, and learning -from the village <i>curé</i>, the <i>juge de paix</i>, and other functionaries, -that he was a skilful physician, he determined to secure some reward -for his labours. At Leverrier's request M. Rouland, the Minister -of Public Instruction, communicated to Napoleon III. the result of -Leverrier's visit, and on January 25 the Emperor bestowed on the -village doctor the decoration of the Legion of Honour.</p> - -<p>To return to astronomical facts.</p> - -<p>It appears from Lescarbault's observation, that on March<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> 26, 1859, at -about four in the afternoon, a round black spot entered on the sun's -disc. It had a diameter less than one-fourth that of Mercury (which he -had seen in transit with the same telescope and the same magnifying -power on May 8, 1845). The time occupied in the transit of this spot -was about one hour seventeen minutes, and, the chord of transit -being somewhat more than a quarter of the sun's diameter in length, -Lescarbault calculated that the time necessary to describe the sun's -diameter would have been nearly four and a half hours. The inclination -of the body's path to the ecliptic seemed to be rather more than 6 -degrees, and was probably comprised between 5-1/3 and 7-1/3 degrees.</p> - -<p>From Leverrier's calculations, it appeared that the time of revolution -of the new planet would be 19 days 17 hours, its distance from the -sun about 147, the earth's being taken as 1,000; giving for Mars, -the earth, Venus, Mercury, and Vulcan (as the new planet was named), -the respective distances 1, 524, 1,000, 723, 387, and 147. Leverrier -assigned 12-1/5 degrees as Vulcan's inclination, and the places -where it crosses the ecliptic he considered to be in line with those -occupied by the earth on or about April 3 and October 6. Judging from -Lescarbault's statement respecting the apparent size of the dark spot, -Leverrier concluded that the volume of the stranger must be about -one-seventeenth of Mercury's, the masses being presumably in the same -proportion. Hence he inferred that the new planet would be quite -incompetent to produce the observed change in the orbit of Mercury.</p> - -<p>Leverrier further found that the brilliancy of Vulcan when the planet -was furthest from the sun on the sky (about eight degrees) would be -less than that of Mercury when similarly placed in his orbit, and he -hence inferred that Vulcan might readily remain unseen, even during -total eclipse. Here, as it seems to me, Leverrier's reasoning was -erroneous. If Vulcan really has a volume equal to one-seventeenth -of Mercury's, the diameter of Vulcan would be rather less than two -fifths of Mercury's and the disc of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> Vulcan at the same distance about -two-thirteenths of Mercury's. But Vulcan, being nearer the sun than -Mercury in the ratio of 147 to 387, or say 15 to 39, would be more -brightly illuminated in the ratio of 39 times 39 to 15 times 15, or -nearly as 20 to 3. Hence if we first diminish Mercury's lustre when -at his greatest apparent distance from the sun in the ratio of 2 to -13, and increase the result in the ratio of 20 to 3, we get Vulcan's -lustre when he is at his greatest apparent distance from the sun. The -result is that his lustre should exceed Mercury's in the same degree -that 40 exceeds 39. Or practically, for all the numbers used have been -mere approximations, the inference is that Vulcan and Mercury, if both -seen when at their greatest distance from the sun during eclipse, would -probably shine with equal lustre. But in that case Vulcan would be a -very conspicuous object indeed, at such a time; for Mercury when at his -greatest distance from the sun, or greatest elongation, is a bright -star even on a strongly illuminated twilight sky; moreover, Vulcan, -when at either of his greatest elongations, ought to be visible in full -daylight in a suitably adjusted telescope. For Mercury is well seen -when similarly placed, and even when much nearer to the sun and on the -nearer part of his path where he turns much more of his darkened than -of his illuminated hemisphere towards us. Venus has been seen when -so near the sun that the illuminated portion of her disc is a mere -thread-like sickle of light. Nay, Professor Lyman, of Yale College, in -America, has seen her when so near the sun that she appeared to be a -mere circular thread of light, the completion of the circle being the -best possible proof how exceedingly fine the thread must have been, and -also how small its intrinsic lustre.</p> - -<p>This is indeed the chief difficulty in Lescarbault's supposed -observation. If he really saw a body in transit across the sun, moving -at the observed rate, and having anything like the observed diameter, -that body ought to have been seen repeatedly during total eclipses of -the sun, and ought not to have escaped the search which has been made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> -over and over again near the sun for intra-Mercurial planets. Either we -must reject Lescarbault's narrative absolutely, or we must suppose that -he greatly over-estimated the size of the body he observed.</p> - -<p>Another difficulty almost equally important is found to exist when -we consider the circumstances of Lescarbault's supposed discovery. -Suppose the path of Vulcan to be inclined about twelve degrees or -thereabouts to the ecliptic or to the plane in which the earth travels. -Then, as seen from the earth on April 3, and October 6, this path, if -it were a material ring, would appear as a straight line across the -sun's centre, and extending on either side of the sun to a distance -of about 16 sun-breadths. As seen on January 3 and July 5, when it -would have its greatest opening, Vulcan's path would appear as an oval -whose longest axis would be about 32 sun-breadths, while its shortest -would be little more than 6 sun-breadths, the sun of course occupying -the centre of the ellipse, which, where closest to him, would lie -but about 2½ sun-breadths only from the outline of his disc. Now -it is easily seen that the path of Vulcan, changing in this way from -apparent straightness to a long oval (whose breadth is about one-fifth -its length), back to straightness but differently inclined, then to -the same oval as before but opened out the other way, and so back to -its original straightness and inclination, must, for no inconsiderable -portion of the year on either side of April 3 and October 6, intersect -the outline of the sun's disc. From a rough but sufficiently accurate -calculation which I have made, I find that the interval would last -about 36 days at each season, that is, from about March 16 to April 21 -in spring, and from about September 18 to about October 24 in autumn. -But during a period of 36 days there would generally be two passages of -Vulcan between the earth and sun, and there would always be one (in any -long period of time two such passages would be five times as common an -event during one of these intervals as a single passage). Consequently -there would be at least two transits of Vulcan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> every year, and there -would generally be four transits; the average number of transits would -be about eleven in three years. With a wider orbit and a greater -inclination transits would be fewer; but even with the widest orbit and -the greatest inclination that can possibly be allowed, there would be -at least one transit a year on the average.</p> - -<p>Now when we remember that, so far as the northern hemisphere is -concerned, the sun is observed on every fine day in almost every -country in Europe and in half the States of the American Union, to -say nothing of observations in Asia, where England and Russia have -several observatories, while in the southern hemisphere there are -many observatories, in Australia, South Africa, and South America (on -both side of the Andes), we see how exceedingly small must be the -chance that Vulcan could escape detection even for a single year. -Far less could Vulcan have escaped all the years which have elapsed -since Lescarbault announced his discovery, to say nothing of all the -observations made by Carrington, Schwabe, and many others, before the -year 1860. If Vulcan really exists, and really has the dimensions and -motions described by Lescarbault, the planet must long ere this have -been repeatedly seen upon the sun's disc by experienced observers.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, Wolf has collected nineteen observations of dark -bodies unlike spots on the sun, during the interval between 1761 and -1865. But as Professor Newcomb justly points out, with two or three -exceptions, the observers are almost unknown as astronomers. In one -case at least the object seen was certainly not a planet, since -it was described as a cloud-like appearance. 'On the other hand,' -says Newcomb, 'for fifty years past the sun has been constantly and -assiduously observed by such men as Schwabe, Carrington, Secchi, and -Spörer, none of whom have ever recorded anything of the sort. That -planets in such numbers should pass over the solar disc, and be seen by -amateur astronomers, and yet escape all these skilled astronomers, is -beyond all moral probability.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> - -<p>It must be remembered that an inexperienced observer of the sun might -readily mistake a spot of unusual roundness and darkness for a planet's -disc. The practised observer would perceive peculiarities at once -indicating the object as a spot on the sun; but these peculiarities -would escape the notice of a beginner, or of one using a telescope of -small power. Again, an inexperienced observer is apt to mistake the -change of position which a spot on the sun undergoes on account of the -diurnal motion, for a change of place on the sun's disc. At noon, for -instance, the uppermost point of the sun's disc is the north point; -but in the afternoon the uppermost point is east of the true north -point. Thus a spot which at noon was a short distance below the highest -point of the sun's disc would at two or three be considerably to the -west of the highest point, though it had undergone in the interval no -appreciable change of position on the solar disc. Suppose now that -at two or three in the afternoon clouds come over the sun's face, -and he is not seen again that day. On the morrow the spot may have -disappeared, as solar spots are apt enough to do. The observer, then -(assuming him to be inexperienced like most of those who have described -such spots), would say, I saw at noon a small round spot which in the -course of the next three hours moved over an appreciable arc towards -the west (the right direction, be it remembered, for a planet to cross -the sun's face). An experienced observer would not make such a mistake. -But let one point be carefully noted. An experienced astronomer would -be very apt to forget that such a mistake could be made. He would take -it for granted that the observer who described such a change in a -spot's position meant a real change, not a change due to the diurnal -motion.</p> - -<p>Therefore, although Leverrier, Moigno, Hind, and other men of science, -have adopted Lescarbault's account, I hold it to be absolutely certain -that that account is in some respect or other erroneous. Newcomb goes -even farther. He says, it is very certain that if the disturbance of -Mercury is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> due to a group of planets, 'they are each so small as to be -invisible in transits across the sun. They must also,' he proceeds, 'be -so small as to be invisible during total eclipses of the sun, because -they have always failed to show themselves then.' This remark relates, -of course, to naked-eye vision. As no intra-Mercurial planet had ever -been searched for systematically with the telescope, before the recent -eclipse, there was nothing to prevent astronomers from believing that -a group of planets, visible in the telescope during total eclipse, may -travel between the sun and the path of Mercury.</p> - -<p>I proceed at once to consider the evidence afforded during the eclipse -of July, 1878, not discussing further the question of Lescarbault's -Vulcan, because it appears to me so clear that there must have been -some mistake, and because later observations seem to throw clearer -evidence on the matter than any which had been before obtained. Yet it -must be admitted that even now the evidence is not all that could be -desired.</p> - -<p>Professor Watson, of Ann Arbor, the discoverer of more than a score of -the small planets which travel between the paths of Mars and Jupiter, -had been searching for an <i>extra-Neptunian</i> planet, when the approach -of the eclipse of July, 1878, suggested the idea that he should return -for a while from those dismal depths which lie beyond the path of -Neptune to seek for a new planet within the glowing region between the -sun and the path of Mercury. The occasion was exceptionally favourable -because of the great height above the sea-level from which the eclipse -could be observed. Accordingly he betook himself to Rawlins, Wyoming, -and prepared for the search by providing his telescope with card -circles in such sort that the place of any observed star could be -recorded by a pencil-mark on these circles, instead of being read off -(with the possibility of error) in the usual way. It is unnecessary -to explain further, because every one who has ever used an equatorial -telescope, or is acquainted with the nature of the instrument, will -at once understand Pro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>fessor Watson's plan, whereas those unfamiliar -with the instrument, would not gain any insight into the nature of his -plan without much more explanatory matter than could be conveniently -given here, even if any explanation without illustrations could make -the matter clear. Let it suffice to note that, having brought any star -centrally into the telescopic field of view, Professor Watson marked in -pencil where the ends of certain pointers came; and that these marks -served to indicate, after the eclipse was over, the position of the -observed star.</p> - -<p>Thus provided, Professor Watson, so soon as totality began, searched -on the eastern side of the sun, and there saw certain stars belonging -to the constellation Cancer, where the sun was situate at the time. He -then examined the western side of the sun, and having swept out to a -star which he took to be Zeta Cancri (though he was rather surprised at -its brightness,—but of that more anon) he returned towards the sun, -encountering on his way a star of the fourth magnitude or rather less, -about two degrees to the west of the sun. Close by was the star Theta -Cancri; but Theta was much fainter, and was seen at the same time a -little further west. It is not easy to understand why Watson did not -make comparison between the position of the new star and Theta, instead -of making comparison between the new star, the sun, and the star which -he took to be Zeta. For a comparison with a known object so close as -Theta would have given more satisfactory evidence than a comparison -with objects farther away. However, as he distinctly states in a letter -to Sir G. Airy that the new star was very much brighter than Theta -Cancri, which was seen a little farther to the west, we cannot doubt -that he had sufficient evidence to prove the new star and Theta Cancri -to be distinct orbs.</p> - -<p>He adds that there was no appearance of elongation, as might be -expected if the new object were a comet. It had a perceptible disc, -though the magnifying power was only forty five.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> - -<p>The accompanying figure will serve to give a fair idea of the position -of the stranger.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus02.jpg" alt="planet" /> -</p> -<p class="caption"> Fig. 1.—Watson's new Planet.</p> - -<p>Now comes the evidence which was at first supposed to be strongly -corroborative of Watson's observation,—the recognition of a star of -about the fourth magnitude, near Theta Cancri, by Professor Louis -Swift, who observed the eclipse from Pike's Peak, in Colorado.</p> - -<p>Professor Swift also made some rather unusual arrangements with his -telescope, but they were not altogether so well adapted to advance his -purpose as were Professor Watson's. To prevent the instrument from -swaying he tied what he calls a pole (but what in England I imagine -would be called a stick), ten feet long, about a foot from the eye-end -of the telescope, leaving the other end of this singular appendage -to trail on the ground. (The telescope was set low, Professor Swift -judging, it would seem, that the most comfortable way to observe was -to lie on his back.) As a natural consequence, while he could move his -telescope very readily one way, trailing the stick along, he could not -move it the other way, because the stick's end immediately stuck into -the ground. As the stick was on the west of the telescope, Professor -Swift could move the eye-end eastwards, following the sun's westwardly -motion. Of course the telescope was to have been released from the -stick when totality began, but unfortunately Professor Swift omitted -to do this, so that he had to work during totality with a hampered -telescope.</p> - -<p>The following is his account of what he saw:—</p> - -<p>'My hampered telescope behaved badly, and no regularity in the sweeps -could be maintained. Almost at once my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> eye caught two red stars about -three degrees south-west of the sun, with large round and equally -bright discs which I estimated as of the fifth magnitude, appearing -(this was my thought at the time) about as bright in the telescope -as the pole-star does to the naked eye. I then carefully noted their -distance from the sun and from each other, and the direction in which -they pointed, &c., and recorded them in my memory, where, to my mind's -eye, they are still distinctly visible. I then swept southward, not -daring to venture far to the west, for fear I should be unable to get -back again, and soon came upon two stars resembling in every particular -the former two I had found, and, sighting along the outside of the -tube, was surprised to find I was viewing the same objects. Again I -observed them with the utmost care, and then recommenced my sweeps in -another direction; but I soon had them again, and for the third time, -in the field. This was also the last, as a small cloud hindered a final -leave-taking just before the end of totality, as I had intended. I -saw no other star besides these two, not even Delta, so close to the -eastern edge of the sun.'</p> - -<p>He adds that the apparent distance between the two bodies was about -one-fourth the sun's diameter. (These are not his words, but convey the -same meaning.)</p> - -<p>Again, he adds that, from three careful estimates, he found the two -stars pointed exactly to the sun's centre. He knew one of the two -bodies was Theta; but unfortunately he could not tell which was Theta -and which the new star or planet. 'But,' he says, 'Professor Watson -happily comes to the rescue, and with his means of measuring finds the -planet nearest to the sun.'</p> - -<p>Unhappily, however, Professor Watson does not come absolutely to the -rescue here. On the contrary, to use Professor Swift's words in another -part of his letter (and speaking of another matter), 'it is just here -where the trouble begins.' If we construct a little map illustrating -what Professor Swift describes, we get the accompanying arrangement -(fig. 2). It is clearly quite impossible to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> reconcile this view of the -supposed new planet with Professor Watson's. If three careful estimates -showed Swift the stranger and Theta situated as in fig. 2, it is -absolutely certain that either Watson's observation was very far from -the truth, or else the strange orb he saw was not the same that Swift -saw. On the other hand, if Watson's observation was trustworthy, it is -certain that either Swift's three estimates were inexact or he saw a -different new body. Again, their accounts of the relative brightness of -Theta and the stranger could not possibly be reconciled if we supposed -they were observing the same new planet, for Watson says distinctly -that the stranger was <i>very much brighter</i> than Theta; while Swift -says, with equal distinctness, that the two stars were <i>equally bright</i>.</p> - - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus03.jpg" alt="planet" /> -</p> -<p class="caption"> Fig. 2.—Swift's new Planet?</p> - -<p>If we accept both observations, we must consider that the strange orb -seen by Swift was not the nearer to the sun, but the other, for Watson, -in his letter to Sir G. Airy, says that he saw both Theta and his own -new planet, and he could not have overlooked Swift's new planet, if -placed as in fig. 2, whereas if the star there marked as the stranger -were really Theta, Watson might readily enough have overlooked the -other star, as farther away from his newly-discovered planet. According -to this view, the actual arrangement at the time of the eclipse was as -shown in fig. 3.</p> - - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus04.jpg" alt="planets" /> -</p> - -<p class="caption"> Fig. 3.—Suggested explanation of Watson's and Swift's -observations.</p> - -<p>But this is not quite all. Professor Watson saw another body, which -in his opinion was a planet. I have already mentioned that he thought -Zeta remarkably bright. It seemed to him a star of nearly the third -magnitude, whereas Zeta Cancri is only of the fifth. Nay, speaking of -the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> planet near Theta, and of this star which he took for Zeta, he -says, 'they were probably really brighter [than the 4½ and 3½ -magnitude respectively], because the illumination of the sky was not -considered in the estimates.' Before he had thoroughly examined the -pencil marks on his card circles, and made the necessary calculations, -he supposed the brighter star to be Zeta, because he did not see the -latter star. But when he examined his result carefully, he found that -the bright star was set (according to his pencil marks) more than -one degree east of Zeta. Writing on August 22, he says, 'The more I -consider the case the more improbable it seems to me that the second -star which I observed, and thought it might be Zeta, was that known -star. I was not certain, in this case, whether the wind had disturbed -the telescope or not. As it had not done so in the case of any other of -six pointings which I recorded, it seems almost certain that the second -was a new star.' It would be easy to understand why Professor Watson -had not seen Zeta, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> he only swept as far as the star he mistook for -Zeta, and, as the accompanying figure shows, Zeta was beyond that star -on the west.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> - -<p>Fig. 4 represents the apparent result of the observations made by -Professors Watson and Swift, if all the observations are regarded -as trustworthy. The six stars shown in the figure were probably the -six referred to in the preceding paragraph. The two unnamed ones are -well-known red stars.</p> - -<p class="center"> -<img src="images/illus05.jpg" alt="stars" /> -</p> -<p class="caption"> Fig. 4.—Showing all the stars observed by Watson and -Swift.</p> - -<p>Let it be noticed, that we cannot reject planet 1, without rejecting -all Watson's observations. We cannot reject planet 2, without rejecting -all Swift's observations. We cannot set this planet to the left of -Theta without throwing doubt on Watson's observations. If Watson swept -over Theta westward without seeing 2, Swift must have made some mistake -as yet unexplained. As for planet 3, if we admit the possibility -that this object really was Zeta, we must admit also the possibility -that the object marked as planet 1 was really Theta, or rather we -should have to do so, were it not that Watson saw Theta also, and (I -suppose) in the same field of view, since he speaks confidently of the -inferiority of Theta in brightness.</p> - -<p>It should further be noticed, that though Swift's and Watson's -observations by no means agree in details, they do in reality support -each other (unless Watson should definitely assert that no star as -bright as Theta existed either to the west or to the east of that star, -at the distance indicated by Swift.) For they agree in indicating the -existence of small planets near the sun, such as can only be seen with -the telescope.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, it is to be noted that other observers failed to see -any of these bodies, though they looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> specially for intra-Mercurial -planets. Thus Professor Hall, of the Washington Observatory, searched -over a larger space than is included in fig. 4, without seeing any -unknown body. But as he also failed to see many known bodies which -should have been seen, it is probable that the search was too hurried -to be trustworthy.</p> - -<p>It would be satisfactory to be able to say that any of the supposed -planets might have been Lescarbault's Vulcan. But in reality, I fear, -this cannot have been the case. In the <i>Times</i>, I expressed, in an -article dated August 14, 1878, the opinion that the evidence obtained -establishes the existence of the planet which had so long been regarded -as a myth. That opinion was based on a very careful investigation of -the evidence available at the time. But it does not accord with what -has since been learned respecting Watson's observations.</p> - -<p>We may dismiss planet 3 at once. If Watson is right about this body -being distinct from Zeta (a point about which, I must confess, I feel -grave doubts), then this must be a planet travelling in an orbit much -wider than we can possibly assign to Vulcan. For even at the distance -of some seven degrees from the sun it showed no sign of gibbosity. If -it had then been at its greatest elongation it would have appeared only -half-full. But with the power Watson was using, which enabled him to -pronounce that the smaller body near Theta showed no elongation, he -would at once have noticed any such peculiarity of shape. He could not -have failed to observe any gibbosity approaching to that of the moon -when three-quarters full. Moreover on July 29 a planet which has its -points of crossing the ecliptic opposite the earth's place on April -3 and October 6, could not appear where Watson saw this body (fully -two degrees from the ecliptic) unless either its orbit were far wider -than that which Leverrier assigned to Vulcan, or else its inclination -far greater. Neither supposition can be reconciled with Lescarbault's -observation.</p> - -<p>With regard to planets 1 and 2, the case is equally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> strong against the -theory that Vulcan was observed. The same reasoning applies to both -these bodies. When I speak therefore of planet 1, it will be understood -that planet 2 also is dealt with. First, as this planet appeared with -a disc appreciably round, it is clear that it must have been near the -point of its orbit farthest from the earth, that is, the point directly -beyond the sun. It was then nearly at its brightest. Yet it appeared as -a fourth-magnitude star only. We have seen that Lescarbault's Vulcan, -even when only half-full, would appear as bright as Mercury at his -brightest, if Lescarbault's account can be accepted in all its details. -Situated as planet 1 was, Vulcan would have shown much more brightly -than an average first-magnitude star. At a very moderate computation it -would have been twice as bright as such a star. But planet 1 appeared -fainter than a fourth-magnitude star. Assume, however, that in reality -it was shining as brightly as an average third-magnitude star. Then it -shone with much less than a twentieth of the lustre Vulcan should have -had, if Lescarbault's estimate were correct. Its diameter then cannot -be greater than a quarter of that which Leverrier assigned to Vulcan -on the strength of Lescarbault's observation. In fact, the apparent -diameter of planet 1, when in transit over the sun's face, could not be -more than a sixteenth of Mercury's in transit, or about two-fifths of a -second,—roughly, about a 5000th part of the sun's apparent diameter. -It is certain that Lescarbault could not have made so considerable a -mistake as this. Nay, it is certain, that with the telescope he used he -could not have seen a spot of this size at all on the sun's face.</p> - -<p>It will be seen that Lescarbault's observation still remains -unconfirmed, or rather, to speak more correctly, the doubts which -have been raised respecting Lescarbault's Vulcan are now more than -ever justified. If such a body as he supposed he saw really travels -round the sun within the orbit of Mercury, it is certain that the -observations made last July by those who were specially engaged in -seeking for Vulcan must have been rewarded by a view of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> that planet. -In July, Lescarbault's Vulcan could not have been invisible, no matter -in what part of his orbit it might be, and the chances would have been -greatly in favour of its appearing as a very bright star, without -telescopic aid.</p> - -<p>But on the other hand it seems extremely probable,—in fact, unless -any one be disposed to question the veracity of the observers, it is -certain,—that within the orbit of Mercury there are several small -planets, of which certainly two, and probably three, were seen during -the eclipse of July 29, 1878. All these bodies must be beyond the -range of any except the most powerful telescopes, whether sought for -as bright bodies outside the sun (not eclipsed) or as dark bodies in -transit across the sun's face. The search for such bodies in transit -would in fact be hopeless with any telescope which would not easily -separate double stars one second of arc apart. It is with large -telescopes, then, and under favourable conditions of atmosphere, -locality, and so forth, that the search for intra-Mercurial planets in -transit must in future be conducted. As the observed disturbance of -Mercury's perihelion, and the absence of any corresponding disturbance -of his nodes (the points where he crosses the plane of the earth's -motion) show that the disturbing bodies must form a ring or disc whose -central plane must nearly coincide with the plane of Mercury's path, -the most favourable time for seeing these bodies in transit would -be the first fortnights in May and November; for the earth crosses -the plane of Mercury's orbit on or about May 8 and November 10. I -believe that a search carried out in April, May, and June, and in -October, November, and December, with the express object of discovering -<i>very</i> small planets in transit, could not fail to be quickly -rewarded,—unless the observations made by Watson and Swift are to be -wholly rejected.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>[Since this was written, Professor Swift has expressed the opinion -that his planet cannot possibly have been the one seen near Theta -Cancri by Professor Watson,—who it seems saw Theta in the centre -of a large field of view, and must therefore have seen Swift's -planet had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> that object been placed either as shown in fig. 2 or -fig. 3. Hence Professor Swift considers that both the stars he -himself saw were planets, and that he did not see Theta at all. -The reasoning in the last five paragraphs of the above essay would -not be in the least affected if we adopted Professor Swift's -conclusion, that four and not three intra-Mercurial planets were -detected during the eclipse of July last. Yet later Professor -Peters of Clinton has indicated reasons for believing that while -Watson simply mistook for planets the two fixed stars, Theta -and Zeta Cancri, Professor Swift saw no planets at all. This -interpretation would account fully, though not very satisfactorily, -for all that is mysterious in the two narratives.]</p></blockquote> - - - - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Two observations of Uranus, by Bradley, were discovered -by the late Mr. Breen, and published in No. 1463 of the <i>Astronomische -Nachrichten</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Let the student make the following construction if he -entertains any doubt as to the statements made above. Having traced the -orbits of the earth and Uranus from my chart illustrating the article -'Astronomy' in the <i>Encyc. Brit.</i>, let him describe a circle nearly -twice as large to represent the orbit of Neptune as Bode's law would -give it. Let him first suppose Neptune in conjunction with Uranus in -1820, mark the place of the earth on any given day in 1842, and the -place of the fictitious Neptune; a line joining these points will -indicate the direction of Neptune on the assumptions made. Let him -next make a similar construction on the assumption that conjunction -took place in 1825. (From the way in which the perturbation of Uranus -reached a maximum between 1820 and 1825, it was practically certain -that the disturber was in conjunction with Uranus between those years.) -These two constructions will give limiting directions for Neptune -as viewed from the earth, on the assumption that his orbit has the -dimensions named. He will find that the lines include an angle of a -few degrees only, and that the direction line of the true Neptune is -included between them.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> The problem is in reality, at least in the form in which -Lescarbault attacked it, an exceedingly simple one. A solution of the -general problem is given at p. 181 of my treatise on the <i>Geometry -of Cycloids</i>. It is, in fact, almost identical with the problem of -determining the distance of a planet from observations made during a -single night.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> It may be necessary, perhaps, to explain to some why the -western side is on the right in the little maps illustrating this -paper, and not, as usual with maps, on the left. We are supposed to -look down towards the earth in the case of a terrestrial map, and to -look up from the earth in the case of a celestial map, and naturally -right and left for the former attitude become respectively left and -right for the latter.</p></div></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> - -<p class="ph2"><a name="RESULTS_OF_THE_BRITISH_TRANSIT_EXPEDITIONS" id="RESULTS_OF_THE_BRITISH_TRANSIT_EXPEDITIONS"><i>RESULTS OF THE BRITISH TRANSIT EXPEDITIONS.</i></a></p> - - -<p>Another noteworthy attempt has been made to estimate the distance which -separates our earth from the mighty central orb round which she travels -with her fellow-worlds the planets. In other words, the solar system -itself has been remeasured; for the measurement of any part of the -system is in fact the measurement of the entire system, the proportions -of which, as distinguished from its actual dimensions, have long been -accurately known.</p> - -<p>I propose briefly to describe the results which have been obtained -(after some three years of careful examination) from the observations -made by the British parties sent north, south, east, and west to -observe the transit of Venus on December 9, 1874; and then to consider -how these results compare with those which had before been obtained. -First, however, it may be well to remind the reader of the unfavourable -conditions under which the task of measuring our distance from the -remote sun must of necessity be attacked.</p> - -<p>Not unfrequently we hear the measurement of the sun's distance, and -the various errors which astronomers have had to correct during the -progress of their efforts to deal with the problem, referred to in -terms which would imply that astronomy had some reason to be ashamed -of labours which are in reality among the most noteworthy achievements -of their science. Because, some twenty years ago, the estimate of 95 -million miles, which had for half a century held its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> ground in our -books of astronomy as the true distance of the sun, was replaced for a -while by an estimate of about 91½ million miles, which has in turn -been displaced for an estimate of about 92-1/3 million miles, it has -been said that astronomy has very little claim to be called the exact -science. It is even supposed by some that astronomy is altogether -at sea respecting the sun's distance—which, if the estimates of -astronomers thus vary in the course of three-quarters of a century, may -in reality, it is thought, be very different from any of the values -hitherto assigned. Others suppose that possibly the sun's distance may -vary, and that the diminution of three or four million miles in the -estimates adopted by astronomers may correspond to an approach of the -earth towards the sun by that amount, an approach which, if continued -at the same rate, would, before many centuries, bring the earth upon -the surface of the sun, to be consumed as fuel perhaps for the warming -of the outer planets, Mars, Jupiter, and the rest.</p> - -<p>All these imaginings are mistaken, however. The exactness of astronomy, -as a science, does not depend on the measurement of the sun's distance -or size, any more than the accuracy of a clock as a timekeeper depends -on the exactness with which the hands of the clock are limited to -certain definite lengths. The skill with which astronomy has dealt with -this particular problem of celestial surveying has been great indeed; -and the results, when considered with due reference to the conditions -of the problem, are excellent: but in reality, if astronomers had -failed utterly to form any ideas whatever as to the sun's distance, if -for aught they knew the sun might be less than one million, or more -than a million millions of miles from us, the exactness of astronomy -as a science would be no whit impaired. And, in the second place, no -doubts whatever need be entertained as to the general inference from -astronomical observations that the sun's distance is between 92 and 93 -millions of miles. All the measurements made during the last quarter -of a century lie between 90 and 95 millions of miles, and by far the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> -greater number of those made by the best methods, and under the most -favourable conditions, lie between 91 and 94 millions of miles. All -the very best cluster closely around a distance of 92-1/3 millions of -miles. We are not for the moment, however, concerned with the question -of the exact distance, but with the question whether astronomy has -obtained satisfactory evidence that the sun's distance lies in the -neighbourhood of the distances deduced by the various methods lately -employed. Putting the matter as one of probabilities, as all scientific -statements must be, it may be said as confidently that the sun's -distance lies between 85 millions and 100 millions of miles as that the -sun will rise to-morrow; and the probability that the sun's distance -is less than 90 millions, or greater than 95 millions of miles, is so -small that it may in effect be counted almost as nothing. Thirdly, the -possibility that the earth may be drawing nearer to the sun by three -or four millions of miles in a century may be dismissed entirely from -consideration. For, one of the inevitable consequences of such a change -of distance would be a change in the length of the year by about three -weeks; and so far from the year diminishing by twenty days or so in -length during a century, it has not diminished ten seconds in length -during the last two thousand years. If there has been any change year -by year in the earth's distance from the sun, it is one to be measured -by yards rather than by miles. Astronomers would be well content if -their 'probable error' in estimating the sun's distance could be -measured by thousands of miles; so that any possible approach of the -earth towards the sun would go but a very little way towards accounting -for the discrepancies between the different estimates of the distance, -even if these estimates grew always smaller as time passed, which is -assuredly not the case.</p> - -<p>But in truth, if we consider the nature of the task undertaken by -astronomers in this case, we can only too readily understand that their -measurements should differ somewhat widely from each other. Let us -picture to ourselves for a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> moment the central sun, the earth, and the -earth's path, not as they really are, for the mind refuses altogether -to picture the dimensions even of the earth, which is but an atom -compared with the sun, whose own proportions, in turn, mighty though -they are, sink into utter insignificance compared with the enormous -scale of the orbit in which the earth travels around him. Let us reduce -the scale of the entire system to one 500-millionth part of its real -value: even then we have a tolerably large orbit to imagine. We must -picture to ourselves a fiery globe 3 yards in diameter to represent the -sun, and the earth as a one-inch ball circling round that globe at a -distance of about 325 yards, or about 350 paces. The diameter of the -earth's orbit would on this scale, therefore, be somewhat more than a -third of a mile. If we imagine the one-inch ball moving round the fiery -globe once in a year, while turning on its axis once in a day, we find -ourselves under a difficulty arising from the slowness of the resulting -motions. We should have found ourselves under a difficulty arising from -the rapidity of the actual motions if we had considered them instead. -The only resource is to reduce our time-scale, in the same way that we -have reduced our space-scale: but not in the same degree; for if we did -we should have the one-inch ball circling round its orbit, a third of -a mile in diameter, sixteen times in a second, and turning on its axis -five thousand times in a second. Say, instead, that for convenience we -suppose days reduced to seconds. Then we have to picture a one-inch -globe circling once in rather more than six minutes about a globe of -fire 3 yards in diameter, one-sixth of a mile from it, and turning -on its axis once in a second. We must further picture the one-inch -globe as inhabited by some 1,500 millions of creatures far too small -to be seen with the most powerful microscope—in fact, so small that -the tallest would be in height but about the seven-millionth of an -inch—and we must imagine that a few of these creatures undertake the -task of determining from their tiny home swiftly rotating as it rushes -in its orbit around a large globe of fire, 325 yards from them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>—the -number of yards really intervening between that globe and their home. -If we rightly picture these conditions, which fairly represent those -under which the astronomer has to determine the distance of the sun -from the earth, we shall perceive that the wonder rather is that any -idea of the sun's distance should be obtained at all, than that the -estimates obtained should differ from each other, and that the best of -them should err in measurable degree from the true distance.</p> - -<p>Anything like a full explanation of the way in which transits of Venus -across the sun's face are utilised in the solution of the problem of -determining the sun's distance would be out of place in these pages. -But perhaps the following illustration may serve sufficiently, yet -simply, to indicate the qualities of the two leading methods of using -a transit. Imagine a bird flying in a circle round a distant globe -in such a way that, as seen from a certain window (a circular window -suppose), the bird will seem to cross the face of the globe once in -each circuit. Suppose that though the distance of the globe is not -known, the window is known to be exactly half as far again from the -globe as the bird's path is, and that the window is exactly a yard -in diameter. Now in the first place, suppose two observers watch the -bird, one (A) from the extreme right side, and the other (B) from the -extreme left side of the window, the bird flying across from right -to left. A sees the bird begin to cross the face of the globe before -B does,—say they find that A sees this exactly one second before B -does. But A's eye and B's being 3 feet apart, and the bird two-thirds -as far from the globe as the window is, the line traversed by the bird -in this interval is of course only 2 feet in length. The bird then -flies 2 feet in a second (this is rather slow for a bird, but the -principle of the explanation is not affected on that account). Say it -is further observed that he completes a circuit in exactly ten minutes -or six hundred seconds. Thus the entire length of a circuit is 1,200 -feet,—whence by the well-known relation between the circumference and -the diameter of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> circle, it follows that the diameter of the bird's -path is about 382 feet, and his distance from the centre of the globe -191 feet. So that the distance of the globe from the window, known to -be half as great again, is about 286½ feet.</p> - -<p>If we regard the globe as representing the sun; the window of known -size as representing our earth of known dimensions; the bird travelling -round in a known period and at a distance whose proportion to the -window's distance is known, as representing Venus travelling in a known -period round the sun and at a distance bearing a known proportion to -the earth's; this way of determining the distance of a remote globe -illustrates what is called Delisle's method of determining the sun's -distance. It requires that the two observers, A and B, should each make -exact note of the moment when the bird seemed to begin to cross the -disc of the remote globe; and in like manner Delisle's method requires -that two observers, widely separated on the earth in a direction -nearly parallel to that in which Venus is travelling, should make the -most exact note of the moment when Venus begins to cross the sun's -face. Also, as all I have said about the bird's beginning to cross -the face of the distant globe would apply equally well if said about -the end of his seeming passage across that disc, so two observers, -widely separated on the earth, can determine the sun's distance by -noting the end of her transit instead of the beginning, if they are -suitably placed for the purpose. The window of our illustration remains -unchanged during the bird's imagined flight, but as the face of the -earth turned sunwards (which corresponds to that window) is all the -time changing with the earth's rotation, a different pair of stations -would have to be selected for observing the end of transit, than would -be suitable for observing the beginning.</p> - -<p>So much for the method called Delisle's. The other is in principle -equally simple. In the imaginary experiment just described we supposed -the two observers at the right and left sides of the circular window. -Imagine them now to watch the bird from the top and bottom of the -window, 3<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> feet apart. Suppose they note that the two tracks along -which, as seen from these two points, the bird seems to cross the -face of the distant globe, lie at a distance from each other equal to -one-third of the globe's apparent diameter. Now, the bird being twice -as far from the globe as from the window, the two tracks on the globe -necessarily lie twice as far apart as the two points from which they -are seen—or they lie 6 feet apart. The globe's diameter therefore -is 18 feet. Knowing thus how large it is, and knowing also how large -it looks, the observers know how far from them it lies. So, in the -Halleyan method of determining the sun's distance by observing Venus -in transit, astronomers are stationed far north and far south on the -sunlit half of the earth, corresponding to the window of the imaginary -experiment. Venus corresponds to the bird. The observers note along -what track she travels across the sun's face. (That they partially -determine this by noting how long she is in crossing, in no sense -affects the principle of the method.) They thus learn that such and -such a portion of the sun's diameter equals the distance separating -them,—some six or seven thousand miles perhaps,—whence the sun's -diameter is known. And as we know how large he looks, his distance from -the earth is determined.</p> - -<p>A peculiarity distinguishing this method from the former is that the -observers must have a station whence the whole transit can be seen; -for practically the place of Venus's track can only be ascertained -satisfactorily by timing her passage across the sun's disc, so that -the beginning and end must be observed and very carefully timed. This -is to some degree a disadvantage; for during a transit lasting several -hours the earth turns considerably on her axis, and the face turned -sunwards at the beginning is thus very different from the face turned -sunwards at the end of transit. It is often exceedingly difficult -to find suitable northern and southern stations belonging to both -these faces of the earth. On the other hand, the other method has its -peculiar disadvantage. To apply it effectively, the observer must know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> -the exact Greenwich time (or any other selected standard time) at his -station,—or in other words he must know exactly how far east or west -his station is from Greenwich (or some other standard observatory). -For all the observations made by this method must be compared together -by some absolute time standard. In the Halleyan method the duration -of transit only is wanted, and this can be as readily determined by a -clock showing local time (or indeed by a clock set going a few minutes -before transit began and showing wrong time altogether, so only that -it goes at the right rate) as by a clock showing Greenwich, Paris, or -Washington time. The clock must not gain or lose in the interval. But a -clock which would gain or lose appreciably in four or five hours, would -be worthless to the astronomer; and any clock employed for scientific -observation might safely be trusted for an interval of that length; -whereas a clock which could be trusted to retain true time for several -days, is not so readily to be obtained.</p> - -<p>We need not consider here the origin of the misapprehension (under -which our principal Government astronomer lay for some time), that -the Delislean method was alone available during the transit of 1874, -the Halleyan method, to use his words, 'failing totally.' The British -stations were selected while this misapprehension remained as yet -uncorrected. Fortunately the southern stations were suitable for -both methods. The northern were not: for this reason, simply, that -one set were so situated that night began soon after the beginning -of transit, which alone could be observed; while the other set were -so situated that night only came to an end a short time before the -transit ended, so that the end of transit only could be observed. No -doubt when the mistake just mentioned had been clearly recognised,—as -it was early in 1873,—measures would have been taken to rectify its -effect by occupying some suitable northern stations for observing the -whole transit, if Great Britain had been the only nation taking part -in the work. Fortunately, however, other nations might be trusted -to occupy the northern region, which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> so long been overlooked. -England simply strengthened the southern observing corps: this could -be done without any change by which the Government astronomers would -have seemed to admit that 'some one had blundered.' Thus the matter -was arranged—America, Russia, and Germany occupying a large number -of stations admirably suited for applying the method which had been -supposed to 'fail totally.' The British Official astronomers, on whom -of course responsibility for adequately observing the transit (or -at least for properly applying money granted by the nation for the -purpose) alone rested, did in reality all, or nearly all, that was -necessary in doubling some of the southern observing parties, and -strengthening all of them; for unquestionably other nations occupied -suitable northern stations in sufficiently strong force.</p> - -<p>It is to be remembered, however, in estimating the probable value -of the result which has been deduced from the British observations, -that as yet only a portion of these observations has been effectively -dealt with. The British observations of the beginning of transit at -northern and southern stations give, when combined together, a value -of the sun's distance. The British observations of the end of transit -at other northern and southern stations give also, when combined -together, a value of the sun's distance. And both sets combined give -of course a mean value of the sun's distance, more likely on the whole -to be correct than either value taken separately. But the British -observations of the duration of transit as observed from southern -stations do not of themselves give any means of determining the sun's -distance. They must be combined with observations of the duration of -transit as observed from northern stations; and no British party was -stationed where such observations could be obtained. The value, then, -of these particular British southern observations can only be educed -when comparison is made between them and the northern observations by -American, German, and Russian astronomers.</p> - -<p>We must not, then, be disheartened if the results of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> British -operations <i>alone</i> should not seem to be altogether satisfactory. For -it may still happen that that portion of the British operations which -only has value when combined with the work of other countries may -be found to possess extreme value. We had good reason for doubting -beforehand whether results of any great value could be obtained by -Delisle's method. It was only because Halley's was supposed to fail -totally that the Government astronomers ever thought of employing that -method, which the experience of former transits had taught us to regard -as of very little value.</p> - -<p>It may be asked, however, how we are to form an opinion from the result -of calculations based on the Delislean operations during the last -transit, whether the method in satisfactory or not. If as yet the sun's -distance is not exactly determined, a result differing from former -results may be better than any of them, many will think; and therefore -the method employed to obtain it may be more satisfactory than others. -If, they may reason, we place reliance on a certain method to measure -for us a certain unknown distance, how can we possibly tell from the -distance so determined whether the method is trustworthy or not?</p> - -<p>Perhaps the readiest way of removing this difficulty, and also of -illustrating generally the principles on which the determination of -the most probable mean value of many different estimates depends, is -by considering a familiar experience of many, a case in which the -point to be determined is the most probable time of day. Suppose that -we are walking along a route where there are several clocks, the time -shown by our own watch being, for whatever reason, open to question. -We find, say, that as compared with our watch time, one clock is two -minutes fast, the next three minutes fast, the next one minute slow, -and so on, two or three perhaps being as much as six or seven minutes -fast, and two or three being as much as three or four minutes slow as -compared with the watch. We note, however, that these wider ranges of -difference occur only in the case of clocks presumably inferior—cheap -clocks in small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> shops, old clocks in buildings where manifestly the -flight of time is not much noted, and so forth. Rejecting these from -consideration, we find other clocks ranging from one minute or so -before our watch time to four minutes or so after it. Before striking -a rough average, however, we consider that some among these clocks are -placed where it is on the whole better to be a minute or two before the -time than a second late,—as, for instance, at banks, where there may -be occasion to send out clerks so as to make sure of reaching certain -places (Clearing-House, General Post-office, and so forth) within -specified time limits. On the other hand, we note that others of these -clocks are placed where it is better to be a minute or two after time -than a second before it,—as at railway stations, post-offices, and -so on, where it is essential that the public should be allowed time -fully up to a specified hour, for some particular service. Taking fair -account of such considerations, we might find that most probably the -true time lay between half a minute <i>before</i> and two minutes and a -half <i>after</i> our watch time. And thus we might infer that in reality -the true time was one minute or so later than that shown by our watch. -But if we were well acquainted with the characteristics of different -clocks along our route, we might infer the time (nay, we might to -all intents and purposes <i>know</i> the time) far more accurately than -this. We might, for instance, pass six or seven shop-windows where -first-class specimens of horological work were shown,—in each window, -perhaps, several excellent clocks, with compensated pendulums and other -contrivances for securing perfect working. We might find at one of -these shops all such clocks showing the same time within two or three -seconds; at the next all such clocks also agreeing <i>inter se</i> within -two or three seconds, but perhaps their mean differing from the mean -at the last shop of the kind by seven or eight seconds; and all six -or seven shops, while showing similar agreement as regards the clocks -severally displayed at each, agreeing also with each other so closely -that ten or twelve seconds would cover the entire range<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> between their -several mean times. If this were observed, we should not hesitate to -place entire reliance on these special sets of clocks; and we should -feel certain that if we took the mean of all their means as the true -time (perhaps slightly modifying this mean in order to give due weight -to the known superiority of one or other of these clock-shops), we -should not be in error by more than five or six seconds, while most -probably we should have the time true within two or three seconds.</p> - -<p>So far the illustration corresponds well with what had been done during -a quarter of a century or so before the last transit of Venus. Several -different methods of determining the sun's distance had been applied to -correct a value which for many reasons had come to be looked upon with -suspicion. This value—95,365,000 miles—was known to be certainly too -large. The methods used to test it gave results varying between about -90 million miles and about 96 million miles. But all the methods worthy -of any real reliance gave results lying between 91 million miles and -94 million miles. Not to enter more fully into details than would here -be suitable, we may pass on at once to say that those most experienced -in the matter recognised seven methods of determining the distance, on -which chief reliance must be placed. Of these seven methods, six—each -applied, of course, by many different observers—were dealt with -exhaustively by Professor Newcomb, of the Washington Observatory, a -mathematician who has undoubtedly given closer attention to the general -problem of determining the sun's distance than any living astronomer. -The six methods give six several results ranging from about 92,250,000 -miles to about 92,850,000 miles; but when due weight is given to those -of the six methods which are undoubtedly the best, the most probable -mean value is found to be about 92,350,000 miles. The seventh method, -conceived by Leverrier, the astronomer to whom, with our own Adams, -the discovery of Neptune was due, and applied by him as he only could -have applied it (he alone possessing at once the necessary material and -the neces<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>sary skill), gives the value, 92,250,000 miles. From this it -may fairly be concluded that Newcomb's mean value, which has in fact -been accented by all American and Continental astronomers, is certainly -within 600,000 miles, and most probably within 300,000 miles of the -true mean distance of the sun.</p> - -<p>But now, to revert to our illustrative case, let us suppose that after -passing the windows of six or seven horologists, from whose clocks we -have obtained such satisfactory evidence as to the probable hour, we -bethought ourselves of a place where, from what we had heard, a still -more exact determination of the hour might be obtained. While still -on the way, however, we learn from a friend certain circumstances -suggesting the possibility that the clocks at the place in question -may not be so correct as we had supposed. Persisting, however, in our -purpose, we arrive at the place, and carefully compare the indications -of the various clocks there with the time indicated by our watch, -corrected (be it supposed) in accordance with the results of our former -observations. Suppose now that the hour indicated by the various -clocks at this place, instead of agreeing closely with that which we -had thus inferred, differs from it by fully half a minute. Is it not -clear that instead of being led by this result to correct our former -estimate of the probable hour, we should at once infer that the doubts -which had been suggested as to the correctness of the various clocks -at this place were fully justified? The evidence of the other sets of -clocks would certainly not be invalidated by the evidence given by the -set last visited, even if the accuracy of these had not been called -in question. But if, as supposed, some good reason had been given for -doubt on this point,—as for instance, that of late the supervision -of the clocks had been interrupted,—we should not hesitate for a -moment to reject the evidence given by these clocks, or at least to -regard it as only tending to demonstrate what before we had been led -to surmise, namely, that these clocks could not be relied upon to show -true time. If however, furthermore, we found, not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> only that the mean -of the various times indicated by the clocks at this last-visited -place differed thus widely from the time which we had every reason -to consider very nearly exact, but that the different clocks here -differed as widely from each other, it would be absurd to rely upon -their evidence. The circumstance that there was a range of difference -of fully half a minute in their indications would of itself suffice -to show how untrustworthy they were, at least for the use of any one -who wished to obtain the time with great accuracy. Combined with the -observed difference between their mean time and that before obtained, -this circumstance would prove the inaccuracy of the clocks beyond all -possibility of doubt or question.</p> - -<p>Now the case here imagined corresponds very closely with the -circumstances of the recent attempt to correct our estimate of the -sun's distance by Delisle's method. Our Government astronomers -bethought themselves of this method as likely to give the best -possible means for correcting, by observations of Venus in transit, -the estimate of the sun's distance which had been deduced by Newcomb, -and confirmed by Leverrier. While as yet their plans were not finally -decided upon, reasons for questioning this conclusion were indicated to -those officials by unofficial astronomers entertaining very friendly -feelings towards them. Retaining, however, their reliance on the -method thus called in question, they carried out their purpose, though -fortunately making provision, very nearly sufficient, for the use of -another method. Now, instead of the estimate of the sun's distance -obtained from the observations by Delisle's method agreeing closely -with Newcomb's mean value,—about 92,350,000 miles,—it exceeds this -value by about a million miles. (See, however, note on the last page -of this article.) According to various ways of considering the results -sent in by his observers, the chief official astronomer obtains a mean -value ranging from about 93,300,000 miles to about 93,375,000 miles. -The last named estimate seems preferred on the whole; but if we take -93,350,000 miles, we shall probably<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> give about the fairest final -mean value. We have seen, however, that the results of observations -by seven distinct methods give values ranging only between 92,250,000 -miles and 92,850,000 miles,—the six best methods giving values ranging -only between 92,250,000 miles and about 92,480,000 miles. The new -value thus lies 500,000 miles above the largest and admittedly the -least trustworthy of the seven results, 870,000 miles above the next -largest, a million miles above the mean value, and 1,100,000 miles -above the least value. It certainly ranges 500,000 miles above the -largest admissible value from those seven trusted methods, dealt with -most skilfully, cautiously, and laboriously, by such mathematicians as -Newcomb and Leverrier.</p> - -<p>Can we hesitate as to the inference we should deduce from this result? -We need not for a moment call in question the skill or care with which -the British observing parties carried out their operations. Nor need we -doubt that the results obtained have been most skilfully and cautiously -investigated by those to whom the work of supervision and of reduction -has been entrusted. We need not even question the policy of devoting -so large a share of labour and expense to the employment of a method -held in little favour by most experienced Continental and American -astronomers, and objected to by many in England, including some even -among official astronomers. It was perhaps well that the method should -have one fair and full trial. And it is certain that all who have -taken part in the work have done their duty zealously and skilfully. -Captain Tupman, to whom Sir George Airy, our chief official astronomer, -entrusted the management of the calculations, has received, and justly, -from his official superior, the highest commendation for his energy and -discrimination. But beyond all manner of doubt the method employed has -failed under the test thus applied to it. I do not say that hereafter -the method may not succeed. Some of the conditions which at present -render it untrustworthy are such as may be expected to be modified -with the progress of improvement in the construction of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> scientific -instruments. But as yet the method is certainly not trustworthy.</p> - -<p>This might be safely concluded from the wide discrepancy between -the new result and the mean of those before obtained. Yet if all -the various observations made by the British observing parties -agreed closely together, the circumstance, though it could hardly -shake our inference on this point, would yet cause some degree -of perplexity, since, of itself, it would seem to imply that the -method was trustworthy. Fortunately we are not thus troubled by -conflicting evidence. The indications of the untrustworthy nature of -the method, derived from the discordance between the results obtained -by it and those before inferred, are not a whit clearer, clear and -convincing though they are, than are the indications afforded by their -discordance <i>inter se</i>. The distance derived from northern and southern -observations of the beginning of transit ought of course to be the -same as that derived from northern and southern observations of the -end of transit. If both sets of observations were exactly correct, the -agreement between the results would be exact. The discordance between -them could only be wide as a consequence of some serious imperfection -in this method of observing a transit. But the discordance is <i>very</i> -wide. The observations of the beginning of transit by the British -parties give a distance of the sun exceeding by rather more than a -million miles that deduced from the observations of the end of transit.</p> - -<p>I am well assured that neither Continental nor American astronomers -will accept the new estimate of the sun's distance, unless—which -I venture to predict will not be the case—the entire series of -transit observations should seem to point to the same value as the -most probable mean. Even then most astronomers will, I believe, think -rather that transits of Venus do not afford such satisfactory means -of determining the sun's distance as had been supposed. This opinion, -it is well known, was held by Leverrier, insomuch that he declined -to support with the weight of his influence the proposals for heavy -expenditure by France<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> upon expeditions for observing the recent -transit and the approaching transit of the year 1882.</p> - -<p>I doubt whether many, even among British astronomers, will accept -the new value. Already the Superintendent of the <i>Nautical Almanac</i> -has given his opinion upon it in terms which cannot be regarded as -favourable. 'It is well known,' he says (I quote at least from an -article which has been attributed to him without contradiction on -his part), 'that some astronomers have not expected our knowledge -of the sun's distance to be greatly improved from the observations -of the transit of Venus. Many, we can imagine, will regard with -some suspicion' so great a value as 93,300,000 miles (I substitute -these words for technical expressions identical in real meaning). -'Nevertheless, whatever degree of doubt might be entertained by -competent authorities, it appears to have been felt by those -immediately responsible for action, in different civilised nations -where science is encouraged, that so rare a phenomenon as a transit of -Venus could not be allowed to pass without every exertion being made to -utilise it.'</p> - -<p>Sir George Airy, very naturally, attaches more value to the result of -the British expeditions, or at least of that part of the operations for -which he was responsible, than others are disposed to do. In an address -to the Astronomical Society, he expressed the opinion that 'the results -now presented are well worthy of very great confidence.... Considering -that the number of observers was eighteen, and that they made -fifty-four observations, and considering also the degree of training -they had, and their zeal, and the extreme care that was taken in the -choice of stations, I think,' he said, 'that there will not be anything -to compete with the value which has been deduced.' This is, as I have -said, very naturally his opinion; and although ordinarily it is rather -for the employers than for the employed to estimate the value of the -results sent in, yet at least we cannot object to his just and generous -praise of those who have worked under his orders.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> - -<p>Nevertheless, it must not be forgotten that on a former occasion -when equal satisfaction was expressed with the result of a rather -less costly but still a laborious and difficult experiment, the -scientific world did not accept (and has since definitely rejected) -the conclusion thus confidently advanced. I refer to the famous -Harton Colliery experiment for determining the mass of the earth. -The case is so closely analogous to that we are dealing with, that -it will be instructive briefly to describe its leading features. -Maskelyne, formerly the chief Government astronomer of this country, -from observations of the effect of the mass of Mount Schehallien in -deflecting a plumb-line, had inferred that the density of the earth -is five times that of water. Bouguer from observations in Chimborazo, -and Colonel James from observations on Arthur's Seat, had deduced -very similar results. From pendulum observations on high mountains, -Carlini and Plana made the earth's density very nearly the same. -Cavendish, Reich, and our own Francis Baily, weighed the earth against -two great globes of lead, by a method commonly known as the Cavendish -experiment, but really invented by Michell. These experiments agreed -closely together, making the earth's density about 5½ times that of -water, or giving to the earth a mass equivalent to that which would -be contained in 6,000 millions of millions of millions of tons. Now, -from the Harton Colliery experiments, in 1854, in which the earth's -weight was estimated by comparing the vibrations of a pendulum at the -mouth of the mine with those of a similar pendulum at a depth of about -1,260 feet, it appeared that the earth's density is rather more than -6½ times that of water, corresponding to an increase in our estimate -of the earth's mass by nearly 1,100 millions of millions of millions -of tons, or by more than a sixth of the entire mass resulting from -the most trustworthy former measurements. Sir G. Airy considered that -'this result will compete on at least equal terms with those obtained -by other methods;' but nearly a quarter of a century has passed during -which no competent astronomer has adopted this opinion, or even -suggested<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> any modification of the former mean estimate of the earth's -mass on account of the unexpectedly large value deduced from the Harton -experiment.</p> - -<p>It appears to me probable that a similar fortune will attend the latest -measurement of the sun's distance. But fortunately the matter will -not rest merely on measurements already made. Many fresh measurements -will be made during the next few years by methods already tried and -<i>not</i> (like Delisle's transit method) found wanting. The recent -close approach of the planet Mars was not allowed to pass without a -series of observations specially directed to the determination of the -sun's distance; and we know that observations of Mars are among the -most advantageous means available for the solution of this difficult -problem. It was indeed from such observations that the first really -trustworthy measures of the sun's distance were obtained two centuries -ago. The small planets which travel in hundreds between the paths of -Mars and Jupiter have also been pressed into the service. And now so -many of these are known that scarcely a month passes without one or -other of them being favourably placed for the purpose of distance -measurements. For this too their star-like discs make these bodies -specially suitable.</p> - -<p>The most probable inference respecting the results obtained by the -British expedition is that their chief value resides in the evidence -which they afford respecting the Delislean method of observation. They -seem to demonstrate what had before been only surmised (though with -considerable confidence by some astronomers), that this method cannot -be relied upon to correct our estimate of the sun's distance. In the -transit of 1882, which by the way will be visible in this country, we -may be certain that other and more satisfactory methods of observation -will be employed.</p> - -<p>Before concluding, it may be well to make a few remarks upon some -misapprehensions which seem to exist as to the propriety in the first -place, and the desirability in the second, of comments upon the -arrangements adopted by Government<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> astronomers to utilize particular -astronomical phenomena, and upon the value of the results which may -be obtained by means of such arrangements. Many seem to suppose that -astronomical matters are in some sense like military or naval (warlike) -manœuvres, to be discussed effectively only by those who 'are -under authority, having (also) soldiers under them,' in other words -by Government astronomers. It would be very unfortunate for science -were this so, seeing that in that case those chiefly responsible for -the selection of methods and the supervision of operations would be -perfectly free from all possibility of criticism. No one under their -authority would be very likely to speak unfavourably of their plans. -And no one possessing higher general authority would be likely to have -any adequate knowledge of astronomy to form an opinion, either as to -the efficiency of the arrangements adopted in any case, or as to the -significance of the results obtained. In warlike matters, to some -degree, the wisdom of the strategy employed is tested by results which -all can appreciate, seeing that they affect directly the well-being of -the nation. Moreover, there are special reasons in these cases why in -the first place there should be a complete system of subordination, -and why in the second few should undertake the study of the science -unless they proposed to take their part in its practical application -and therefore to submit to its disciplinary system. But it is quite -otherwise with the science of astronomy. The nation requires, chiefly -for the regulation of its commerce, a certain number of trained -astronomers, to carry out systematically observations of a certain -class,—observations having in the main scarcely any closer relation -to the real living science of astronomy than land surveying has to -such geology as Lyell taught, or the bone-trade to the science of -anatomy. The stars by their diurnal motion form the most perfect -time-measurers, therefore they must be constantly timed by trained -observers. The sun and moon are the most effective time-indicators for -seamen, and therefore their movements must be most carefully noted. -Our <i>Nautical Almanac</i> in fact embodies the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> kind of astronomical -materials which Government astronomers are employed to collect and -arrange. Such work may rather be called celestial surveying than -astronomy. But from the days of Flamsteed, the first of our Astronomers -Royal (as the chief Government astronomer is technically called) whose -contemporary, Newton, discovered the great law of the universe, to -those of Maskelyne and Sir G. Airy, whose contemporaries, the elder and -the younger Herschel, disclosed the structure of the universe, there -have always been astronomers outside the ranks of official astronomy, -in no way desirous of entering those ranks, and in fact so taking -their course from the beginning of their study of the science as to -preclude themselves from all possibility of undertaking any official -duties in astronomy. 'Non sua se voluntas,' necessarily, 'sed suæ vitæ -rationes, hoc aditu laudis, qui semper optimo cuique maxime patuit, -prohibuerunt:' though, indeed, it may not untruly be said that to one -who apprehends the true sublimity of astronomy as a science the routine -of official astronomy is by no means inviting, and probably personal -tastes have had very much to do with the choice, by such men, of the -more attractive departments of astronomy. Be this as it may, it is -certain that the astronomers who thus keep outside the official ranks -are not only free, and may not only be fully competent, to express an -opinion on the arrangements made by Government astronomers, or on the -results obtained by them, but as the only members of the community -who are at once free and able so to do, their right to speak may -often involve, in some degree, the duty of speaking. If through some -mistake wrong arrangements were proposed for instance,—and all men, -even officials (Herbert Spencer says, <i>especially</i> officials), are -apt to make mistakes,—then, unless non-official astronomers, who had -carefully examined the subject, expressed their doubts, it is certain -that there would be no means whatever of correcting the error, or even -of detecting its consequence, until many years had elapsed. The leading -official astronomers would in such a case be apt, in fact they are apt -enough as it is, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> stand by each other,—a chief in one department -commending the zeal and energy of the chief in another department, -this chief in turn commending the industry and ability of the other, -and so forth,—while subordinates of all ranks might be apt either to -maintain a judicious silence, or else at least to avoid any utterance -which would endanger their position. It may, on the one hand, be to -some degree questioned whether it would be fitting that discipline -should be so far neglected in such a case that a subordinate should -have eyes to see, or ears to hear, or thoughts to note, any error on -the part of his superior in office. And on the other hand, those who -know little or nothing of astronomy can of course form no opinion on -astronomical matters, however high they may be in authority outside -matters scientific. To assert, then, that it is either improper or -undesirable for unofficial astronomers to comment on the plans or -results of astronomers employed and paid by the nation is practically -equivalent to asserting that it is improper or undesirable for the -work of these paid astronomers to be examined at all,—a conclusion -manifestly absurd.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> - -The following lines are from a letter of mine, which -appeared in the <i>Times</i> of April 13, some time after the present -article was written:— -</p> -<p> -'A few months ago I said in these columns that the determination of -the sun's distance, then recently communicated to Parliament—namely, -93,375,000 miles—was probably some 800,000 miles too great; and I -spoke of the method on which the determination was based as to some -degree discredited by the wide range of difference both between that -result and the mean of the best former measurements, and between the -several results of which that one was itself the mean. Captain Tupman, -as straightforward as he is skilful and zealous, announces as the -result of a re-examination of the British observations a distance -about 600,000 miles less than the above, or, more exactly, about -92,790,000 miles, as the sun's mean distance. But while he obtains from -the ingress observations a mean distance of only 92,300,000 miles, -he obtains from the egress observations a mean distance of about -93,040,000 miles; and the value, 92,790,000 miles, is only obtained as -the mean of these two values duly weighted, the egress observations -being more satisfactory than the ingress observations. 'It appears to -me that the doubts which I formerly expressed as to the trustworthiness -of the method employed, are to some degree justified. -</p> -<p> -'To the general public it will be more interesting to inquire what -probably is the true mean distance of the sun. To this it may be -replied that in all probability the sun's mean distance does not lie so -much as 600,000 miles on either side of the value 92,300,000 miles' (it -should be 92,400,000).</p></div></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> -<p class="ph2"><a name="THE_PAST_HISTORY_OF_OUR_MOON" id="THE_PAST_HISTORY_OF_OUR_MOON"><i>THE PAST HISTORY OF OUR MOON.</i></a></p> - - -<p>The moon, commonly regarded as a mere satellite of the earth, is -in truth a planet, the least member of that family of five bodies -circling within the asteroidal zone, to which astronomers have given -the name of the terrestrial planets. There can be no question that -this is the true position of the moon in the solar system. In fact, -the fashion of regarding her as a mere attendant of our earth may be -looked upon as the last relic of the old astronomy in which our earth -figured as the fixed centre of the universe, and the body for whose -sake all the celestial orbs were fashioned. In this aspect, also, the -moon is a far more interesting object of research than when viewed as -belonging to another and an inferior order. We are able to recognise, -in her, appearances probably resulting from the relative smallness of -her dimensions, and hence to derive probable information as to the -condition of other orbs in the solar system which fall below the earth -in point of size. Precisely as the study of the giant planets, Jupiter -and Saturn, has led astronomers to infer that certain peculiarities -must result from vastness of dimensions, so the study of the dwarf -planets, Mars, our moon, and Mercury, may indicate the relations we are -to associate with inferiority of size.</p> - -<p>This thought immediately introduces us to another conception, which -causes us to regard with even greater interest the evidence afforded -by the moon's present condition. It can scarcely be questioned that -the size of any member of the solar system, or rather the quantity -of matter in its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> orb, assigns, so to speak, the duration of that -orb's existence, or rather of the various stages of that existence. -The smaller body must cool more rapidly than the larger, and hence -the various periods during which the former is fit for this or that -purpose of planetary life (I speak with purposed vagueness here) are -shorter than the corresponding periods in the life of the latter. -Thus the sun, viewed in this way, is the youngest member of the solar -system, while the tiniest members of the asteroid family, if not the -oldest in reality, are the oldest to which the telescope has introduced -us. Jupiter and Saturn come next to the sun in youth; they are still -passing through the earliest stages of planetary existence, even if we -ought not rather to adopt that theory of their condition which regards -them as subordinate suns, helping the central sun to support life on -the satellites which circle around them. Uranus and Neptune are in -a later stage, and perchance when telescopes have been constructed -large enough to study these planets with advantage, we may learn -something of that stage, interesting as being intermediate to the -stages through which our earth and Venus on the one hand, and the giant -brothers Jupiter and Saturn on the other, are at present passing. After -our earth and Venus, which are probably at about the same stage of -planetary development (though owing to the difference in their position -they may not be equally adapted for the support of life), we come to -Mars and Mercury, both of which must be regarded as in all probability -much more advanced and in a sense more aged than the earth on which -we live. In a similar sense,—even as an ephemeron is more aged after -a few hours of existence than a man after as many years,—the small -planet which we call 'our moon' may be described as in the very -decrepitude of planetary existence, nay (some prefer to think), as even -absolutely dead, though its lifeless body still continues to advance -upon its accustomed orbit, and to obey the law of universal attraction.</p> - -<p>Considerations such as these give singular interest to the discussion -of the past history of our moon, though they add<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> to the difficulty of -interpreting the problems she presents to us. For we have manifestly to -differentiate between the effects due to the moon's relative smallness -on the one hand, and those due to her great age on the other. If -we could believe the moon to be an orb which simply represents the -condition to which our earth will one day attain, we could study her -peculiarities of appearance with some hope of understanding how they -had been brought about, as well as of learning from such study the -future history of our own earth. But clearly the moon has had another -history than our earth. Her relative smallness has led to relations -such as the earth never has presented and never will present. If our -earth is, as astronomers and physicists believe, to grow dead and cold, -all life perishing from her surface, it is tolerably clear, from what -we already know of her history, that the appearance she will present -in her decrepitude will be utterly unlike that presented by the moon. -Grant that after the lapse of enormous time-intervals the oceans now -existing on the earth will be withdrawn beneath her solid crust, -and even (which seems incredible) that at a more distant future the -atmosphere now surrounding her will have become greatly reduced in -quantity, either by similar withdrawal or in any other manner, yet the -surface of the earth would present few features of resemblance to that -of the moon. Viewed from the distance at which we view the moon, there -would be few crateriform mountains indeed compared with those on the -moon; those visible would be small by comparison with lunar craters -even of medium dimensions; and the radiated regions seen on the moon's -surface would have no discernible counterpart on the surface of the -earth. The only features of resemblance, under the imagined conditions, -would be probably the partially flat sea bottoms (though these would -bear a different proportion to the more elevated regions) and the -mountain ranges, the only terrestrial features of volcanic disturbance -which would be relatively more important than their lunar counterparts.</p> - -<p>I do not purpose, however, to discuss the probable future<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> of the -earth, having only indicated the differences just touched upon in order -to remind the reader at the outset that we have not in 'the moon' a -representation of the earth at any stage of her history. Other and -different relations are presented for our consideration, although it -may well be that by carefully discussing them we may learn somewhat -respecting our earth, as also respecting the past history and future -development of the solar system.</p> - -<p>It appears reasonable to regard the moon, after her first formation as -a distinct orb, as presenting the same general characteristics that we -ascribe to our earth in its primary stage as a planet. In one respect -the moon, even at that early stage, may have differed from the earth. -I refer to its rotation, the correspondence between which and its -revolution may probably have existed from the moon's first formation. -But this would not materially have affected the relations with which we -have to deal at present. We may apply, then, to the moon the arguments -which have been applied to the discussion of the first stages of our -earth's history.</p> - -<p>Adopting this view, we see that at the first stage of its existence -as an independent planet, the moon must have been an intensely heated -gaseous globe, glowing with inherent light, and undergoing a process of -condensation, 'going on at first at the surface only, until by cooling -it must have reached the point where the gaseous centre was exchanged -for one of combined and liquefied matter.' To apply now to the moon at -this stage the description which Dr. Sterry Hunt gives of the earth. -'Here commences the chemistry of the moon. So long as the gaseous -condition of the moon lasted, we may suppose the whole mass to have -been homogeneous; but when the temperature became so reduced that the -existence of chemical compounds at the centre became possible, those -which were most stable at the elevated temperature then prevailing -would be first formed. Thus, for example, while compounds of oxygen -with mercury, or even with hydrogen, could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> exist, oxides of -silicon, aluminium, calcium, magnesium, and iron, might be formed and -condensed in a liquid form at the centre of the globe. By progressive -cooling still other elements would be removed from the gaseous mass, -which would form the atmosphere of the non-gaseous nucleus.' 'The -processes of condensation and cooling having gone on until those -elements which are not volatile in the heat of our ordinary furnaces -were condensed into a liquid form, we may here inquire what would be -the result on the mass of a further reduction of temperature. It is -generally assumed that in the cooling of a liquid globe of mineral -matter congelation would commence at the surface, as in the case of -water; but water offers an exception to most other liquids, inasmuch as -it is denser in the liquid than in the solid form. Hence, ice floats -on water, and freezing water becomes covered with a layer of ice which -protects the liquid below. Some metals and alloys resemble water in -this respect. With regard to most other earthy substances, and notably -the various minerals and earthy compounds like those which may be -supposed to have made up the mass of the molten globe, the case is -entirely different. The numerous and detailed experiments of Charles -Deville and those of Delesse, besides the earlier ones of Bischoff, -unite in showing that the density of fused rocks is much less than that -of the crystalline products resulting from their slow cooling, these -being, according to Deville, from one-seventh to one-sixteenth heavier -than the fused mass, so that if formed at the surface they would, in -obedience to the laws of gravity, tend to sink as soon as formed.'</p> - -<p>Here it has to be noted that possibly there existed a period (for -our earth as well as for the moon) during which, notwithstanding the -relations indicated by Dr. Hunt, the exterior portions of the moon -were solid, while the interior remained liquid. A state of things -corresponding to what we recognise as possible in the sun may have -existed. For although undoubtedly any liquid matter forming in the -sun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> sinks in obedience to the laws of gravity towards the centre, yet -the greater heat which it encounters as it sinks must vapourise it, -notwithstanding increasing pressure, so that it can only remain liquid -near the region where rapid radiation allows of sufficient cooling -to produce liquefaction. And in the same way we may conceive that -the solidification taking place at any portion of the surface of the -moon's or the earth's liquid globe, owing to rapid radiation of heat -thence, although it might be followed immediately by the sinking of the -solidified matter, would yet result in the continuance (rather than the -existence) of a partially solid crust. For the sinking solid matter, -though subjected to an increase of pressure (which, in the case of -matter expanding on liquefaction, would favour solidification), would -nevertheless, owing to the great increase of heat, become liquefied, -and, expanding, would no longer be so much denser<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> than the liquid -through which it was sinking as to continue to sink rapidly.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, it is clear that after a time the heat of the interior -parts of the liquid mass would no longer suffice to liquefy the solid -matter descending from the surface, and then would commence the process -of aggregation at the centre described by Dr. Hunt. The matter forming -the solid centre of the earth consists probably of metallic and -metalloidal compounds of elements denser than those forming the known -portions of the earth's crust.<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> In the case of the moon, whose mean -density is very little greater than the mean density of the matter -forming the earth's crust, we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> must assume that the matter forming the -solid nucleus at that early stage was relatively less in amount, or -else that we may attribute part of the difference to the comparatively -small force with which lunar gravity operated during various stages of -contraction and solidification.</p> - -<p>In the case of the moon, as in that of the earth, before the last -portions became solidified, there would exist a condition of imperfect -liquidity, as conceived by Hopkins, 'preventing the sinking of the -cooled and heavier particles, and giving rise to a superficial crust, -from which solidification would proceed downwards. There would thus -be enclosed between the inner and outer solid parts a portion of -uncongealed matter,' which may be supposed to have retained its -liquid condition to a late period, and to have been the principal -seat of volcanic action, whether existing in isolated reservoirs or -subterranean lakes, or whether, as suggested by Scrope, forming a -continuous sheet surrounding the solid nucleus.</p> - -<p>Thus far we have had to deal with relations more or less involved -in doubt. We have few means of forming a satisfactory opinion as to -the order of the various changes to which, in the first stages of -her existence as a planet, our moon was subject. Nor can we clearly -define the nature of those changes. In these matters, as with the -corresponding processes in our earth's case, there is much room for -variety of opinion.</p> - -<p>But few can doubt that, by whatever processes such condition may have -been attained, the moon, when her surface began to form itself into its -present appearance, consisted of a globe partially molten surrounded -by a crust at least partially solidified. Some portions of the actual -surface may have remained liquid or viscous later than others but at -length the time must have arrived when the radiating surface was almost -wholly solid. It is from this stage that we have to trace the changes -which have led to the present condition of the moon's surface.</p> - -<p>It can scarcely be questioned that those seismologists are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> in the -right who have maintained in recent times the theory that in the -case of a cooling globe, such as the earth or moon at the stage just -described, the crust would in the first place contract more quickly -than the nucleus, while later the nucleus would contract more quickly -than the crust. This amounts, in fact, to little more than the -assertion that the process of heat radiation from the surface would be -more rapid, and so last a shorter time than the process of conduction -by which in the main the nucleus would part with its heat. The crust -would part rapidly with its heat, contracting upon the nucleus; but -the very rapidity (relative) of the process, by completing at an early -stage the radiation of the greater portion of the heat originally -belonging to the crust, would cause the subsequent radiation to be -comparatively slow, while the conduction of heat from the nucleus -to the crust would take place more rapidly, not only relatively but -actually.</p> - -<p>Now it is clear that the results accruing during the two stages into -which we thus divide the cooling of the lunar globe would be markedly -different. During the first stage forces of tension (tangential) would -be called to play in the lunar crust; during the later stage the forces -would be those of pressure.</p> - -<p>Taking the earlier stage, during which the forces would be tensional, -let us consider in what way these forces would operate.</p> - -<p>At the beginning, when the crust would be comparatively thin, I -conceive that the more general result of the rapid contraction of -the crust would be the division of the crust into segments, by the -formation of numerous fissures due to the lateral contraction of -the thin crust. The molten matter in these fissures would film over -rapidly, however, and all the time the crust would be growing thicker -and thicker, until at length the formation of distinct segments would -no longer be possible. The thickening crust, plastic in its lower -strata, would now resist more effectively the tangential tensions, -and when yielding would yield in a different manner.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> It was at this -stage, in all probability, that processes such as those illustrated by -Nasmyth's globe experiments took place, and that from time to time the -crust yielded at particular points, which became the centres of systems -of radiating fissures. Before proceeding, however, to consider the -results of such processes, let it be noted that we have seen reason to -believe that among the very earliest lunar formations would be rifts -breaking the <i>ancient</i> surface of the lunar crust. I distinguish in -this way the ancient surface from portions of surface whereof I shall -presently have to speak as formed at a later time.</p> - -<p>Now let us conceive the somewhat thickened crust contracting upon -the partially fluid nucleus. If the crust were tolerably uniform in -strength and thickness we should expect to find it yielding (when -forced to yield) at many points, distributed somewhat uniformly over -its extent. But this would not be the case if—as we might for many -reasons expect—the crust were wanting in uniformity. There would -be regions where the crust would be more plastic, and so readier to -yield to the tangential tensions. Towards such portions of the crust -the liquid matter within would tend, because there alone would room -exist for it. The down-drawing, or rather in-drawing, crust elsewhere -would force away the liquid matter beneath, towards such regions of -less resistance, which would thus remain at (and be partly forced -to) a higher level. At length, however, the increasing tensions thus -resulting would have their natural effect; the crust would break -open at the middle of the raised region, and in radiating rifts, -and the molten matter would find vent through the rifts as well as -at the central opening. The matter so extruded, being liquid, would -spread, so that—though the radiating nature of the rifts would still -be indicated by the position of the extruded matter—there would -be no abrupt changes of level. It is clear, also, that so soon as -the outlet had been formed the long and slowly sloping sides of the -region of elevation would gradually sink, pressing the liquid matter -below towards the centre of outlet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> whence it would continue to pour -out so long as this process of contraction continued. All round the -borders of the aperture the crust would be melted, and would continue -plastic long after the matter which had filled the fissures and flowed -out through them had solidified. Thus there would be formed a wide -circular orifice, which would from the beginning be considerably above -the mean level of the moon's surface, because of the manner in which -the liquid matter within had been gathered there by the pressure of -the surrounding slopes.<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> Moreover, around the orifice, the matter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> -outflowing as the crust continued to contract would form a raised wall. -Until the time came when the liquid nucleus began to contract more -rapidly than the crust, the large crateriform orifice would be full -to the brim (or nearly so), at all times, with occasional overflows: -and as a writer who has recently adopted this theory has remarked, 'We -should ultimately have a large central lake of lava surrounded by a -range of hills, terraced on the outside,—the lake filling up the space -they enclosed.'</p> - -<p>The crust might burst in the manner here considered, at several -places at the same—or nearly the same—time, the range of the -radiating fissures, depending on the extent of the underlying lakes -of molten matter thus finding their outlet; or there might be a -series of outbursts at widely separated intervals of time and at -different regions, gradually diminishing in extent as the crust -gradually thickened and the molten matter beneath gradually became -reduced in relative amount. Probably the latter view should be -accepted, since, if we consider the three systems of radiations from -Copernicus, Aristarchus, and Kepler, which were manifestly not formed -contemporaneously, but in the order in which their central craters have -just been named, we see that their dimensions diminished as their date -of formation was later. According to this view we should regard the -radiating system from Tycho as the oldest of all these formations.</p> - -<p>At this very early stage of the moon's history, then, we regard the -moon as a somewhat deformed spheroid, the regions whence the radiations -extended being the highest parts, and the regions farthest removed from -the ray centres being the lowest.<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> To these lower regions whatever -was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> liquid on the moon's surface would find its way. The down-flowing -lava would not be included in this description, as being rather viscous -than liquid; but if any water existed at that time it would occupy the -depressed regions which at the present time are called Maria or Seas.</p> - -<p>It is a question of some interest, and one on which different opinions -have been entertained, whether the moon at any stage of its existence -had oceans and an atmosphere corresponding in relative extent to -those of the earth. It appears to me that, apart from all the other -considerations which have been suggested in support of the view that -the moon formerly had oceans and an atmosphere, it is exceedingly -difficult to imagine how, under any circumstances, a globe so large -as the moon could have been formed under conditions not altogether -unlike, as we suppose, those under which the earth was formed (having -a similar origin, and presumably constructed of the same elements), -without having oceans and an atmosphere of considerable extent. The -atmosphere would not consist of oxygen and nitrogen only or chiefly, -any more than, in all probability, the primeval atmosphere of our -own earth was so constituted. We may adopt some such view of the -moon's atmosphere—<i>mutatis mutandis</i>—as Dr. Sterry Hunt has adopted -respecting the ancient atmosphere of the earth. Hunt, it will be -remembered, bases his opinion on the former condition of the earth by -conceiving an intense heat applied to the earth as now existing, and -inferring the chemical results. 'To the chemist,' he remarks, 'it is -evident that from such a process applied to our globe would result the -oxidation of all carbonaceous matter; the conversion of all carbonates, -chlorides, and sulphates into silicates; and the separation of the -carbon, chlorine, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> sulphur in the form of acid gases; which, -with nitrogen, watery vapour, and an excess of oxygen, would form an -exceedingly dense atmosphere. The resulting fused mass would contain -all the bases as silicates, and would probably nearly resemble in -composition certain furnace-slags or basic volcanic glasses. Such we -may conceive to have been the nature of the primitive igneous rock, -and such the composition of the primeval atmosphere, <i>which must have -been one of very great density</i>.' All this, with the single exception -of the italicised remark, may be applied to the case of the moon. The -lunar atmosphere would not probably be dense at that primeval time, -even though constituted like the terrestrial atmosphere just described. -It would perhaps have been as dense, or nearly so, as our present -atmosphere. Accordingly condensation would take place at a temperature -not far from the present boiling-point, and the lower levels of -the half-cooled crust would be drenched with a heated solution of -hydrochloric acid, whose decomposing action would be rapid, though -not aided—as in the case of our primeval earth—by an excessively -high temperature. 'The formation of the chlorides of the various bases -and the separation of silica would go on until the affinities of the -acid were satisfied.' 'At a later period the gradual combination of -oxygen with sulphurous acid would eliminate this from the atmosphere -in the form of sulphuric acid.' 'Carbonic acid would still be a large -constituent of the atmosphere, but thenceforward (that is, after the -separation of the compounds of sulphur and chlorine from the air) there -would follow the conversion of the complex aluminous silicates, under -the influence of carbonic acid and moisture, into a hydrated silicate -of alumina or clay, while the separated lime, magnesia, and alkalies -would be changed into bicarbonates, and conveyed to the sea in a state -of solution.'</p> - -<p>It seems to me that it is necessary to adopt some such theory as to -the former existence of lunar oceans in order to explain some of the -appearances presented by the so-called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> lunar seas. As regards the -present absence of water we may adopt the theory of Frankland, that the -lunar oceans have withdrawn beneath the crust as room was provided for -them by the contraction of the nucleus. I think, indeed, that there -are good grounds for looking with favour on the theory of Stanislas -Meunier, according to which the oceans surrounding any planet—our own -earth or Mars, for example—are gradually withdrawn from the surface to -the interior. And in view of the enormous length of the time-intervals -required for such a process, we must consider that while the process -was going on the lunar atmosphere would not only part completely with -the compounds of sulphur, chlorine, and carbon, but would be even -still further reduced by chemical processes acting with exceeding -slowness, yet effectively in periods so enormous. But without insisting -on this consideration, it is manifest that—with very reasonable -assumptions as to the density of the lunar atmosphere in its original -complex condition—what would remain after the removal of the chief -portion by chemical processes, and after the withdrawal of another -considerable portion along with the seas beneath the lunar crust, would -be so inconsiderable in quantity as to accord satisfactorily with -the evidence which demonstrates the exceeding tenuity of any lunar -atmosphere at present existing.</p> - -<p>These considerations introduce us to the second part of the moon's -history,—that corresponding to the period when the nucleus was -contracting more rapidly than the crust.</p> - -<p>One of the first and most obvious effects of this more rapid nuclear -contraction would be the lowering of the level of the molten matter, -which up to this period had been kept up to, or nearly up to, the -lips of the great ringed craters. If the subsidence took place -intermittently there would result a terracing of the interior of the -ringed elevation, such as we see in many lunar craters. Nor would -there be any uniformity of level in the several crater floors thus -formed, since the fluid lava would not form parts of a single fluid -mass (in which case, of course, the level of the fluid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> surface would -be everywhere the same), but would belong to independent fluid masses. -Indeed it may be noticed that the very nature of the case requires us -to adopt this view, since no other will account for the variety of -level observed in the different lunar crater-floors. If these ceased to -be liquid at different times, the independence of the fluid masses is -by that very fact established; and if they ceased to be liquid at the -same time, they must have been independent, since, if communication had -existed between them, they would have shown the uniformity of surface -which the laws of hydrostatics require.<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p> - -<p>The next effect which would follow from the gradual retreat of -the nucleus from the crust (setting aside the withdrawal of lunar -seas) would be the formation of corrugations,—in other words, of -mountain-ranges. Mallet describes the formation of mountain-chains as -belonging to the period when 'the continually increasing thickness of -the crust remained such that it was still as a whole flexible enough, -or opposed sufficient resistance of crushing to admit of the uprise of -mountain-chains by resolved tangential pressures.' Applying this to the -case of the moon, I think it is clear that—with her much smaller orb -and comparatively rapid rate of cooling—the era of the formation of -mountain-chains would be a short one, and that these would therefore -form a less important characteristic of her surface than of the -earth's. On the other hand, the period of volcanic activity which would -follow that of chain-formation would be <i>relatively</i> long continued; -for regarding this period as beginning when the thickness of the moon's -crust had become too great to admit of adjustment by corrugation, the -comparatively small pressure to which the whole mass of the moon had -been subjected by lunar gravity, while it would on the one hand cause -the period to have an earlier commencement (relatively), would on the -other leave greater play to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> effects of contraction. Thus we can -understand why the signs of volcanic action, as distinguished from the -action to which mountain-ranges are due, should be far more numerous -and important on the moon than on the earth.</p> - -<p>I do not, however, in this place enter specially into the consideration -of the moon's stage of volcanic activity, because already, in the pages -of my Treatise on the Moon (Chapter VI.), I have given a full account -of that portion of my present subject. I may make a few remarks, -however, on the theory respecting lunar craters touched on in my work -on 'The Moon.' I have mentioned the possibility that some among the -enormous number of ring-shaped depressions which are seen on the moon's -surface may have been the result of meteoric downfalls in long past -ages of the moon's history. One or two critics have spoken of this view -as though it were too fantastic for serious consideration. Now, though -I threw out the opinion merely as a suggestion, distinctly stating -that I should not care to maintain it as a theory, and although my -own opinion is unfavourable to the supposition that any of the more -considerable lunar markings can be explained in the suggested way, yet -it is necessary to notice that on the general question whether the -moon's surface has been marked or not by meteoric downfalls scarcely -any reasonable doubts can be entertained. For, first, we can scarcely -question that the moon's surface was for long ages plastic, and though -we may not assign to this period nearly so great a length (350 millions -of years) as Tyndall—following Bischoff—assigns to the period when -our earth's surface was cooling from a temperature of 2000° C. to -200°, yet still it must have lasted millions of years; and, secondly, -we cannot doubt that the process of meteoric downfall now going on is -not a new thing, but, on the contrary, is rather the final stage of a -process which once took place far more actively. Now Prof. Newton has -estimated, by a fair estimate of observed facts, that each day on the -average 400 millions of meteors fall, of all sizes down to the minutest -discernible in a telescope, upon the earth's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> atmosphere, so that on -the moon's unprotected globe—with its surface one thirteenth of the -earth's—about 30 millions fall each day, even at the present time. Of -large meteoric masses only a few hundreds fall each year on the earth, -and perhaps about a hundred on the moon; but still, even at the present -rate of downfall, millions of large masses <i>must</i> have fallen on the -moon during the time when her surface was plastic, while <i>probably</i> a -much larger number—including many much larger masses—must have fallen -during that period. Thus, not only without straining probabilities, but -by taking only the most probable assumptions as to the past, we have -arrived at a result which compels us to believe that the moon's surface -has been very much marked by meteoric downfall, while it renders it by -no means unlikely that a large proportion of the markings so left would -be discernible under telescopic scrutiny.</p> - -<p>I would, in conclusion, invite those who have the requisite leisure to -a careful study of the distribution of various orders of lunar marking. -It would be well if the moon's surface were isographically charted, -and the distribution of the seas, mountain ranges, and craters of -different dimensions and character, of rills, radiating streaks, bright -and dark regions, and so on, carefully compared <i>inter se</i>, with the -object of determining whether the different parts of the moon's surface -were probably brought to their present condition during earlier or -later periods, and of interpreting also the significance of the moon's -characteristic peculiarities. In this department of astronomy, as in -some others, the effectiveness of well-devised processes of charting -has been hitherto overlooked.</p> - - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> It would still be somewhat denser, because under the -circumstances it would be somewhat cooler.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> It is thus, and not by the effects due to increasing -pressure (effects which probably do not increase beyond a certain -point), that we are to explain the fact that the earth's density as a -whole is about twice the mean density of the matters which form its -solid surface. It may be that this consideration, supported by the -results of recent experimental researches, may give a significance -hitherto not noted to the relatively small mean density of the moon.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> I have occasion to make some remarks at this stage -to avoid possible and (my experience has shown me) not altogether -improbable misconception, or even misrepresentation. The theory -enunciated above will be regarded by some, who may have read a certain -review of my Treatise on the Moon, as totally different from what I -have advocated in that work, and, furthermore, as a theory which I -have borrowed from the aforesaid review. I should not be particularly -concerned if I had occasion to modify views I had formerly expressed, -since I apprehend that every active student of science should hope, -rather than dread, that as his work proceeds he would form new -opinions. But I must point out that earlier in my book I had advocated -the theory urged above. After describing the radiations from Tycho -and other craters, I proceed as follows in chapter iv.—'It appears -to me impossible to refer these phenomena to any general cause but -the reaction of the moon's interior overcoming the tension of the -crust, and to this degree Nasmyth's theory seems correct; but it -appears manifest, also, that the crust cannot have been fractured -in the ordinary sense of the word. Since, however, it results from -Mallet's investigations that the tension of the crust is called into -play in the earlier stages of contraction, and its power to resist -contraction in the later stages,—in other words, since the crust at -first contracts faster than the nucleus, and afterwards not so fast as -the nucleus,—we may assume that the radiating systems were formed in -so early an era that the crust was plastic. And it seems reasonable to -conclude that the outflowing matter would retain its liquid condition -long enough (the crust itself being intensely hot) to spread widely,—a -circumstance which would account at once for the breadth of many of -the rays, and for the restoration of level to such a degree that no -shadows are thrown. It appears probable, also, that not only (which is -manifest) were the craters formed later which are seen around and upon -the radiations, but that the central crater itself acquired its actual -form long after the epoch when the rays were formed.'</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> Where several ray centres are near together, a region -directly between two ray centres would be at a level intermediate -between that of the ray centres and that of a region centrally placed -within a triangle or quadrangle of ray centres; but the latter region -might be at a higher level than another very far removed from the part -where the ray centres were near together. For instance, the space in -the middle of the triangle having Copernicus, Aristarchus, and Kepler -at its angles (or more exactly between Milichius and Bessarion) is -lower than the surface around Hortensius (between Copernicus and -Kepler), but not so low as the Mare Imbrium, far away from the region -of ray centres of which Copernicus, Aristarchus, and Kepler are the -principal.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> It is important to notice that we may derive from these -considerations an argument as to the condition of the fluid matter now -existing beneath the solid crust of the earth.</p></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="A_NEW_CRATER_IN_THE_MOON" id="A_NEW_CRATER_IN_THE_MOON"><i>A NEW CRATER IN THE MOON.</i></a></p> - - -<p>Dr. Klein, a German astronomer, has recently called the attention of -astronomers to a lunar crater some three miles wide, which had not -before been observed, and which, he feels sure, was not in existence -two years ago. Astronomers have long since given up all hope of tracing -either the signs of actual life upon the moon or traces of the past -existence of living creatures there. But there are still among them -those who believe that by sedulous and careful scrutiny processes of -material change may be recognised in that seemingly inert mass. In -reality, perhaps, the wonder rather is that signs of change should -not be often recognised, than that from time to time a new crater -should appear or the walls of old craters fall in. The moon's surface -is exposed to variations of temperature compared with which those -affecting the surface of our earth are altogether trifling. It is -true there is no summer or winter in the moon. Sir W. Herschel has -spoken of the lunar seasons as though they resembled our own, but -in reality they are very different. The sun's midday height at any -lunar station is only about three degrees greater in summer than in -winter; whereas our summer sun is 47° higher in the sky at noon than -our winter sun. In fact, a midsummer's day on the moon does not differ -more from a midwinter's day, as far as the sun's actual path on the -sky is concerned, than with us the 17th of March differs from the -25th, or the 19th of September from the 27th. It is the change from -day to night which chiefly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> affects the moon's surface. In the lunar -year of seasons, lasting 346-2/3 of our days, there are only 11¾ -lunar days, each lasting 29¾ of ours. Thus day lasts more than a -fortnight, and is followed by a night of equal length. Nor is this -all. There is neither air nor moisture to produce such effects as are -produced by our air and the moisture it contains in mitigating the heat -of day and the cold of night. Under the sun's rays the moon's surface -becomes hotter and hotter as the long lunar day proceeds, until at -last its heat exceeds that of boiling water. But so soon as the sun -has set the heat thus received is rapidly radiated away into space (no -screen of moisture-laden air checking its escape), and long before -lunar midnight a cold exists compared with which the bitterest weather -ever experienced by Arctic voyagers would be oppressively hot. These -are not merely theoretical conclusions, though even as such they could -be thoroughly relied upon. The moon's heat has been measured by the -present Lord Rosse (using his father's splendid six-feet mirror). He -separated the heat which the moon simply reflects to us from that which -her heated surface itself gives out (or, technically, he separated -the reflected from the radiated heat), by using a glass screen which -allowed the former heat to pass while it intercepted the latter. He -thus found that about six-sevenths of the heat we receive from the moon -is due to the heating of her own substance. From the entire series of -observations it appeared that the change of temperature during the -entire lunar day—that is, from near midnight to near midday on the -moon—amounts to fully 500° Fahrenheit. If we assume that the cold at -lunar midnight corresponds with about 250° below zero (the greatest -cold experienced in Arctic travelling has never exceeded 140° below -zero), it would follow that the midday heat is considerably greater -than that of boiling water on the earth at the sea-level. But the range -of change is not a matter of speculation. It certainly amounts to about -500°, and in whatever way we distribute it, we must admit, first, that -no such life as we are familiar with could possibly exist on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> moon; -and, secondly, that the moon's crust must possess a life of its own, -so to speak, expanding and contracting unceasingly and energetically. -Professor Newcomb, by the way, in his fine work on Popular Astronomy, -rejects the idea that the expansions and contractions due to these -great changes of temperature can cause any disintegration at the -present time. There might, he says, be bodies so friable that they -would crumble, 'but whatever crumbling might thus be caused would soon -be done with, and then no further change would occur.' For my own part, -I cannot consider that such a surface as the moon at present possesses -can undergo these continual expansions and contractions without slow -disintegration. It seems to me also extremely probable that from time -to time the overthrow of great masses, the breaking up of arched -crater-floors, and other sudden changes discernible from the earth, -might be expected to occur. Professor Newcomb has, I conceive, omitted -to consider the enormous volumetric expansion as distinguished from -mere lateral extension, resulting from the heating of the moon's crust -to considerable depths. On a very moderate computation, the surface -of the central region of the full moon must at that time rise above -its mean position to such a degree that hundreds, if not thousands, -of cubic miles of the moon's volume lie above the mean position of -the surface there. At new moon—that is, at lunar midnight for the -same region—the same enormous quantity of matter is correspondingly -depressed. And though the actual range in vertical height at any given -point may be small, we cannot doubt that the total effect produced -by these constant oscillations is considerable. Years or centuries -may pass without any great or sudden change, but from time to time -such catastrophes must surely occur. I believe that all the cases of -supposed change in the moon, if all were regarded as proved, could be -thus fully accounted for without any occasion to assume the action of -volcanic forces properly so called.</p> - -<p>Before considering the evidence for the new lunar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> volcano to which Dr. -Klein has recently called the attention of astronomers, it may be well -briefly to describe the condition of the moon's surface.</p> - -<p>This surface, which is equal in extent to about that of the American -Continent, or to Europe and Africa together (without their islands), -is divided into two chief portions—the higher levels, which are in -the main of lighter tint, and the lower levels, which are, almost -without exception, dark. It may be remarked in passing that very -erroneous ideas are commonly entertained respecting the moon's general -colour. The moon is very far from being white, as many suppose. On the -contrary, she is far more nearly black than white. It has been well -remarked by Tyndall that if the moon were covered with black velvet -(14,600,000 square miles of that material would be required for the -purpose), she would still appear white to us, for we should see her -disc projected on the blackness of star-strewn space. The actual tint -of the moon as a whole is nearly the same as that of gray weathered -sandstone. The brightest parts, however, are much whiter; Zöllner -infers from his photometric experiments that they can be compared with -the whitest of terrestrial substances. On the other hand, the darkest -parts of the moon are probably far darker than porphyry, even if they -are not so dark that on earth we should call them black. The fact -that the low-lying parts of the moon are much darker than the higher -regions is full of meaning, though hitherto its significance does not -seem to have been much noticed. Either we must assume that these lower -regions, the so-called seas (certainly now dry), are old sea bottoms, -and owe their darkness to the quality of the matter deposited there -in remote ages, or else we must suppose that the matter which last -remained fluid when the moon's surface was consolidating was of darker -material than the rest. For such matter would occupy the lowest lunar -regions. There is here room for a very profitable study of the moon's -aspect by geologists. I doubt not that, however different the general -past<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> history of our earth may have been from the moon's, terrestrial -regions exist where the characteristic features of the moon's surface -are more or less closely illustrated. On the American continent, for -example, there are peculiarities of geological formation which seem -to correspond closely with some of the features of the lunar globe, -presently to be noticed; and it seems to me not improbable that -geologists might find in the study of certain regions in North America -the means of interpreting the difference of tint between higher and -lower levels on the moon. If so, light would probably be thrown on very -difficult questions relating to the remote past, not only of the moon, -but of our own earth.</p> - -<p>The lunar feature which comes next in importance to the difference -of tint between the so-called 'seas' and the higher lands is the -existence of remarkable series of radiating streaks extending from -certain important craters—centres probably of past disturbance. It -is impossible to contemplate the disc of the full moon, as seen with -a powerful telescope, without feeling that these systems of rays must -have resulted from the operation of forces of the most stupendous -nature, though as yet their true meaning is hid from us. They would be -marvellous phenomena, even if they were not so mysterious—marvellous -in their enormous extension, their singular brightness, and -their manner of traversing 'seas,' craters, and mountain-ranges -indifferently. But their chief marvel resides in the mysterious manner -of their appearance as the moon approaches her full illumination. -Other lunar features are most clearly recognised when the moon is not -full, for then the shadows which afford our only means of estimating -the height of lunar irregularities are clearly seen along the border -between the bright and dark parts of her face, and we have only to -wait until this border passes over any object we wish to study to -obtain satisfactory evidence of its nature. It is quite otherwise with -the rays. The regions occupied by these radiating streaks are neither -raised nor depressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> in such sort as either to throw shadows or to -lie in shadow when surrounding regions are in sunlight. But when the -moon approaches her full illumination, the radiating regions come into -view, as bright streaks—bright even on the light-tinted lunar uplands. -A mighty system of rays can be seen extending from the great crater -Tycho in all directions. Other systems, scarcely less wonderful, extend -from the battlemented crater, Copernicus, the brilliant Aristarchus, -and the solitary Kepler. One ray from Tycho can be traced round nearly -an entire hemisphere of the moon's surface. It is specially noteworthy -of this great ray that, where it crosses the lunar Sea of Serenity, -that great plain seems to be divided as by a sort of ridge line, the -slope of the plain from either side of the ray's track being clearly -discernible when the moon is near her first quarter.</p> - -<p>What are these mysterious ray systems? How are we to explain the -circumstance that though only the most tremendous forces seem competent -to account for bands such as these, many miles broad and many hundreds -of miles in length, there are yet none of the usual signs of the action -of volcanic forces? If mighty rifts had been formed in the moon's crust -by the outbursting action of a hot nucleus, or through the contraction -of the crust on an unyielding nucleus (for the effect would be the same -in either case), we should scarcely expect to find that after such -rifts had formed no signs of any difference of level would appear. If -lava flowed out all along the rift, one would imagine that it would -form a long dyke which would throw an obvious shadow, except under full -solar illumination. If the rift were not filled with lava, the bottom -of the rift would certainly remain in shadow long after the surrounding -region was illuminated. That lava should exactly fill the rift along -its entire length seems incredible. This might happen by a strange -chance in the case of a single rift, but not with all the rifts of a -radiating system, still less with all the rifts of all the radiating -systems. Yet I believe that neither astronomers nor geologists can form -any other opinion respecting these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> mysterious ray-systems than that -they were caused by what Humboldt (speaking of the earth) calls the -reaction of the interior on the crust. Nasmyth has admirably indicated -their appearance, or rather their radiating form, by filling a globular -glass shell with water, hermetically closed, and then freezing the -water. The expansion of the water bursts the glass shell, and the lines -of fracture are found to extend in a series of rays from the part of -the shell which first gave way. But this experiment of itself does not -explain the mystery of the lunar rays. Accepting the theory that the -moon's crust yielded in some such way, we have still to explain how -the rifts which were thus formed came to be covered over with matter -lying nearly at the same level as the surrounding surface. It appears -to me that the only available way of explaining this is somewhat as -follows. First, from the way in which the streaks are covered like the -surrounding region with craters, we may conclude that the streaks are -older than any except the largest craters; from the great extension -of many of them, we may safely infer that the lunar crust possessed a -large measure of plasticity when they were formed (for otherwise it -would have yielded over a smaller area). It was, therefore, probably -still hot during the era (which may have lasted millions of years) to -which the formation of the rifts belonged: accordingly the lava which -flowed out through the rifts remained liquid for a considerable time, -and was thus able to spread widely on either side of the rift, forming -a broad band of lava-covered surface, instead of a steep and narrow -dyke. This seems not only to account for the most striking peculiarity -of the bands, but to accord well with all that is known about them, -and even to suggest explanations of some other lunar features which -had appeared perplexing. I understand that in certain regions of North -America there are lava-covered rifts large enough to form geographical -features, and, therefore, fairly comparable with the lunar radiating -streaks. But as yet American geologists have not presented in an -accessible form a description of the peculiar features of the American<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> -continent; in fact, it may be doubted whether as yet the materials for -such a description exist.</p> - -<p>The mountain-ranges of the moon do not differ to any marked degree -from those of our own earth. They are few in number; in fact, -mountain-ranges form a less important feature of lunar than of -terrestrial geography. On the other hand, the lunar ring-mountains and -craters far exceed those of our earth in size and importance. The large -craters may, in fact, be regarded as characteristic features of lunar -scenery. There are several craters exceeding 100 miles in diameter. It -is strange to consider that though the ringed wall surrounding some of -these larger craters exceeds 10,000 feet in height, no trace of the -highest peaks of such a wall would be visible from the middle of the -enclosed plain. Conversely, an observer standing on one of the highest -peaks beside one of these great craters, would not see half the floor -of the crater, while more than half the horizon line around him would -belong to the enclosed plain, and would appear as level as the horizon -seen from a height overlooking a great prairie. These ringed plains -and larger craters seem to belong to the third great era of the moon's -history. The bright high regions and dark low levels called seas must -have been formed while the greater part of the crust was intensely -hot. The contraction of the cooling crust on the nucleus, which cooled -far less slowly, led to the formation of the great ray systems. But -though such systems extend from great craters, these craters themselves -probably attained their present form far later. The crust having in -great part cooled, the nucleus began in turn to shrink more quickly -than the crust, having more heat to part with. Thus the crust, closing -in upon the shrinking nucleus, formed the corrugations and wrinkles -which can be seen under telescopic scrutiny in nearly every part of -the visible lunar surface. The process was accompanied necessarily -by the development of great heat—the thermal equivalent of the -mechanical process of contraction. Mallet has shown that the process -of contraction at present occurring in the earth's crust gives rise -to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> the greater part of the heat to which volcanic phenomena are due. -If this is so in the earth's case at present, how tremendous must have -been the heat evolved by the far more rapid contraction of the moon's -mass in the remote era we are considering, when probably her heat -passed into space unchecked by the action of a dense moisture-laden -atmosphere! We can well understand that enormous volumes of heated gas -would be formed—including steam, for there is good reason to believe -that water is present in large quantities in the moon's interior. The -imprisoned gas would find an outlet at points of least resistance, -the centres, namely, of the great radiating systems of streaks. These -centres would certainly be regions of outlet. But they would not be -sufficient. We can understand then why every ray system extends from -a great crater, though that crater was really formed after the system -of radiating streaks; and we can equally understand why these central -craters are not the only or even the chief of the great craters in the -moon. Here again I would suggest that possibly the careful study of -American geology might disclose features illustrating the great lunar -craters.</p> - -<p>When we pass to the smaller craters, ranging in diameter from seven -or eight miles to less than a quarter of a mile, even if there be not -some far smaller and beyond the range of the most powerful telescopes -man can construct, we find ourselves among objects resembling those -with which the study of our own earth has rendered us familiar. When -Sartorius's map of Etna and the surrounding region was first seen at -the Geological Society's rooms, many supposed that it represented -lunar features. The Vesuvian volcanic region, again, is presented -side by side with a lunar region of similar extent in Nasmyth's fine -treatise on the moon, and the resemblance is very close. Considering -the part which water plays in producing terrestrial volcanic phenomena, -it may reasonably be doubted whether there is in reality so close a -resemblance as a superficial comparison (and we can make no other) -would suggest. There are those, indeed, who be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>lieve that some of the -multitudinous small craters of the moon have had their origin in the -downfall of meteoric masses on her once plastic surface; and strange -though the thought may seem, there would be considerable difficulty -in showing how the surface of the moon could have remained without -traces of the meteoric downfall to which during myriads of centuries -she was exposed undefended by that atmospheric shield which protects -our earth from millions of meteors yearly falling upon her. We could -only attribute the smallest lunar craters, however, to this cause. -It may be noticed in passing that Professor Newcomb, apparently -referring to this suggestion, which some had thought too fanciful to -be seriously advanced, says that 'the figures of these inequalities -(the small craters) can be closely imitated by throwing pebbles upon -the surface of some smooth plastic mass, as mud or mortar.' Craters, -however, larger than a mile or so in diameter, and many also of smaller -dimensions, must be regarded as due to the same process of contraction -which produced the great craters, but as belonging to an era when this -process went on less actively. In like manner another feature of the -moon's surface, the existence of narrow furrows called <i>rilles</i>, which -sometimes extend to a considerable distance, passing across levels, -intersecting crater walls, and reappearing beyond mountain-ranges as -though carried under like tunnels, must be regarded as due to the -cracking of the crust thus slowly shrinking.</p> - -<p>It is noteworthy that the signs of change which have been suspected -during recent years belong to these smaller and probably more recent -lunar formations. In November, 1866, Dr. Schmidt, chief of the -Athens Observatory, announced that the crater Linné in the lunar -Sea of Serenity was missing. To understand the importance of this -announcement, let it simply be noted that the quantity of matter -necessary to fill that crater up would be at least equal to that -which would be required to form a mountain covering the whole area -of London to a height of two miles! The crater was described by -former lunar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> observers as at least five miles in diameter and very -deep. It is not now actually missing, as Schmidt supposed, but it is -certainly no longer deep. It is, in fact, exceedingly shallow. Sir -J. Herschel's opinion was that the crater had been filled up from -beneath by an effusion of viscous lava, which, overflowing the rim on -all sides, poured down the outer slope so as to efface its ruggedness -and convert it into a gradual declivity casting no stray shadows. But -the stupendous nature of the disturbing forces necessary to produce -such an overflow of molten matter has led most astronomers to adopt -in preference the theory that the wall surrounding the crater has -been overthrown, either in consequence solely of the processes of -contraction and expansion described above, or from the reinforcement -of their action by the effects due to sublunarian energies. Some -consider that the descriptions of the crater by Mädler and Lohrmann -(which slightly differ) were erroneous, and that there has been no real -change. Others deny that any change has occurred, on the ground that -Linné varies in aspect according to the manner of its illumination. -This I perceive is Professor Newcomb's explanation, who considers -such variations 'sufficient to account for the supposed change.' But -since the time of Schmidt's announcement Linné has several times been -observed under nearly the same conditions as by Mädler and Lohrmann, as -the great shadows formerly seen in its interior have not reappeared. -There seems to be great reason for believing that a change has really -occurred there.</p> - -<p>The discovery announced by Dr. Klein is of a different nature. Near the -middle of the visible half of the moon there is a well-known though -small crater called Hyginus, the neighbourhood of which has been often -and carefully examined. While examining this part of the moon's surface -with an excellent 5-1/2in. telescope, in May, 1877, Dr. Klein observed -a small crater full of shadow, and apparently nearly three miles in -diameter. It formed a conspicuous object on the Sea of Vapours. Having -frequently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> observed this region during the last few years, he felt -certain that no such crater existed there in 1876. He communicated -his discovery to Dr. Schmidt, who stated, in reply, that in all the -numerous drawings he had made of this lunar region no such crater was -indicated. It is not shown in the great chart by Beer and Mädler, or in -Lohrmann's map. Further observation showed that the crater is a deep, -conical opening in the moon's surface. Soon after the sun has risen -at that part of the moon, and, as later observations confirm, shortly -before sunset there, the opening is entirely in shadow, and appears -black. But when the sun is rather higher it appears grey, and with a -yet higher sun it can no longer be distinguished. It can, however, be -seen when the sun is very high on that part of the moon, appearing then -somewhat brighter than the surrounding region, a circumstance which -does not hitherto seem to have been noticed by either Klein or Schmidt.</p> - -<p>The moon's surface has been so long and so carefully studied, that it -is almost impossible to understand how such a crater as now certainly -exists in the Sea of Vapours near Hyginus could have escaped detection. -Craters of the kind exist, indeed, in hundreds on the moon's surface. -But many astronomers have given years of their life to the study of -such objects; and the centre of the moon's disc, for reasons which -astronomers will understand, has been studied with exceptional care. -It seems so unlikely that a deep crater three miles in diameter could -escape recognition, that some astronomers have not hesitated to regard -the newly-detected crater as certainly a new formation. For my own -part, though it seems almost impossible to explain how such a crater -could have remained so long unnoticed, I can regard the evidence of -change as amounting only to extreme probability so far as it depends on -the result of past telescopic scrutiny of the moon.</p> - -<p>Admitting that a change had occurred, it would not follow that it had -been produced by volcanic forces. It seems far more likely that a -floor originally cover<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>ing the conical hole now existing in the Sea -of Vapours has given way at last under the effect of long-continued -processes of expansion and contraction, which would operate with -special energy over a region, like the Sea of Vapours, near the moon's -equator.</p> - -<p>But there remains to be mentioned a form of evidence respecting -lunar features which could not be effectively applied to the case -of the crater Linné, because the moon had only been subject to the -necessary method of examination during a few years before that crater -was missed. I refer to lunar photography. Many objects less than two -miles in diameter are shown in the best photographs of our satellite -by Rutherfurd, De la Rue, Ellery, and Draper; and as the moon has been -photographed in every phase, some among the views might fairly be -expected to show Klein's crater if it really existed before 1877. I do -not find that in any lunar photographs the crater is shown as a black -or dark gray spot. But in Rutherfurd's splendid photograph of the moon -on March 6, 1865 (when the moon was about nine days five hours old), -the place of Klein's crater is occupied by a small spot lighter than -the surrounding 'sea.' This is the usual appearance of a small crater -under a high sun; and though it may indicate only the existence of a -flat crater floor in 1865 where now a great conical hole exists, it -throws some degree of doubt on the occurrence of any change at all -there. The case strongly suggests the necessity for continuing the -work of lunar photography, which seems of late years to have flagged. -Photographs of the moon should be taken in every aspect and in every -stage of her librational swayings. Possessing such a series, we should -be able to decide at once whether any newly-recognised crater was in -reality a new formation or not.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="THE_NOVEMBER_METEORS" id="THE_NOVEMBER_METEORS"><i>THE NOVEMBER METEORS.</i></a></p> - - -<p>During November 13 and 14 the earth is passing through the region along -which lies the course of the family of meteors called the Leonides, -sometimes familiarly known as the November meteors. When at this time -of the year the meteor region thus traversed by the earth is densely -strewn with meteors, there occurs a display of falling stars, one of -the most beautiful, and, rightly understood, one of the most remarkable -of all celestial phenomena. Of old, indeed, when it was supposed that -these meteors were purely meteorological phenomena, they were not -thought specially interesting objects. They were held by some as mere -weather-portents. It was only when a storm of wind was approaching, -<i>vento impendente</i>, according to Virgil, that a shower of meteors was -to be seen. Gross ignorance, indeed, has given to showers of falling -stars an interest surpassing even that which has become attached to -them through the discoveries of modern science, for they have been -regarded as portending the end of the world. The shower of November -13, 1833, which was seen in great splendour in America, frightened the -negroes of the Southern States nearly out of their wits. A planter -of South Carolina relates that he was awakened by shrieks of horror -and cries for mercy from 600 or 700 negroes. When he went out to see -what was the matter, he found the negroes prostrate on the ground, -'some speechless, some with bitterest cries imploring God to spare the -world and them.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> There is, however, a grandeur in the interpretation -placed by modern science upon these beautiful displays which dwarfs -into littleness even such ideas as have been suggested by the terrors -of superstition. We perceive that meteors are not mere terrestrial -phenomena, nor of brief existence. They speak to us of domains in space -compared with which the volume of our earth—nay, even the volume of -the sun himself—is a mere point: of time-intervals compared with -which the millions of years spoken of by geologists appear but as mere -seconds.</p> - -<p>The special meteor family whose track the earth crosses on November -13-14 forms a mighty ellipse round the sun, extending more than 19 -times farther from him than the track of our earth, which yet, as -we know, lies more than 92,000,000 miles from the sun. Along this -tremendous orbit the meteors speed with planetary but varying velocity, -crossing the track of our earth with a velocity exceeding by more than -a third her own swift motion of about 19 miles in every second of time. -Coming down somewhat aslant, but otherwise meeting the earth almost -full tilt, the meteors rush into our air at the rate of more than 40 -miles per second. They are so intensely heated as they rush through -it that they are turned into the form of vapour, insomuch that we -never make acquaintance with the members of this particular meteoric -family in the solid form. In this respect they resemble the greater -number of our meteoric visitants. It is, indeed, a somewhat fortunate -circumstance for us that this is so, for if Professor Newton, of Yale -College (United States), is right in estimating the total number of -meteors, large and small, which the earth encounters per annum at -400,000,000, it would be rather a serious matter if all or most of -these bodies were not warded off. The least of them, even though a mere -grain perhaps in weight, would yet, arriving with planetary velocity -exceeding a hundredfold or more the velocity of a cannon-ball, prove -an awkward missile if it struck man or animal. But the air effectually -saves us from all save a few fire-balls which are large enough to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> -remain in great part solid until they actually strike the earth itself.</p> - -<p>The importance of the meteors in the planetary system will be -recognised when we remember that the November group alone extends along -its oval course in one complete system of meteors for a length of more -than 1,700 millions of miles, with an average thickness of about a -million miles (determined by noting the average time occupied by the -earth in passing through the system on November 13-14), and an unknown -cross breadth which probably does not fall short of three or four -millions of miles. Other systems are, no doubt, far more important, -for it has been found that meteors follow in the track of comets. Now -the November meteors follow in the track of a comet (Tempel's comet of -1866), which was so small when last favourably placed for observation -that it escaped detection by the naked eye. If so small a comet as -this is followed by so large a meteoric system, in which also meteors -are strewn so richly that during the passage of the earth through it, -tens of thousands of meteors have been counted, how vast must be the -numbers and how large probably the individual bodies following in the -track of such splendid comets as Newton's, Donati's (1858), the comets -of 1811, 1847, 1861, and others! For it should be remembered that we -become cognisant of the existence of a meteoric system only when the -earth threads its way through one, when those which she encounters may -become visible as falling stars if it so chances that she encounters -them on the dark or night half of her surface. But the earth is far -smaller compared with a system like the November meteor-flight than a -rifle-ball compared with the largest flight of birds ever yet seen. -Such a ball fired into a very dense and widely extending flock of -birds might encounter here and there along its course some five or six -birds—not one in 10,000, perhaps, of the entire flight; and if the -flock continued flying with unchanging course, a hundred rifle balls -might be fired through it without seemingly reducing its numbers. -Our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> earth has passed hundreds of times through the November meteor -system, yet its meteoric wealth has scarcely been reduced at all, so -exceedingly minute is the track of the earth through the meteor system -compared with the extension of the system itself. The region through -which the earth has passed is less than a billionth part of the entire -region occupied by the system. But the November system is but one among -several hundreds through which the earth passes—in other words, the -systems which chance to be traversed by that mere thread-like ring in -space traversed each year by the earth, are not a millionth, not a -billionth, of the total number of such systems. It will be conceived, -therefore, that the total amount of meteoric matter, travelling on -orbits of all degrees of eccentricity and extension from the sun and -inclined at all angles to the general plane of the solar system, must -be enormously great. The idea once advanced by an eminent astronomer -that the total quantity of unattached matter, so to speak, existing -within the solar domain must be estimated rather by pounds than by tons -is now altogether exploded. It would be truer to say that the totality -of matter thus freely travelling around the sun must be estimated by -billions of tons rather than by millions.</p> - -<p>Whether it is likely that there will be a display of meteors to-night -(or, rather, to-morrow morning), is a question to which most -astronomers would be disposed, we believe, to reply definitely in the -negative. The display of November 13-14, 1866, was very brilliant; that -of 1867 (best seen in the United States) was almost equally so; but -successive showers steadily diminished. In other words, the part of the -system crossed by the earth in 1866 and 1867 was very rich, but the -part which she crossed afterwards (the rich part having passed far on -towards the remote aphelion of the system outside the orbit of Uranus) -was less rich. For the last few years very few November meteors have -been seen, though the few stragglers which have been seen, and have -been identified as belonging to the family by their paths<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> athwart -the star-depths, have been almost as interesting to astronomers as -the showers of such bodies seen in 1799, 1833, 1866, and 1867. But it -is not altogether impossible that in the small hours 'ayont the twal' -to-morrow morning a shower of meteors may be seen. For Schiaparelli -(the Italian astronomer who first started the ideas which led when -properly followed up to the discovery of the relations existing -between meteors and comets) asserts that it has happened before now -that the November meteors have appeared in great numbers in years -lying midway between the times of <i>maximum</i> display. These times are -separated on the average by about 33¼ years. Thus, in 1799, there -was a great display of November meteors, a shower rendered specially -celebrated by Humboldt's description. In 1833 there was another, the -display which so terrified the negroes of South Carolina, but more -interesting scientifically as described by Arago. In 1866 the shower -again attained its <i>maximum</i> splendour, though the display of 1867 was -little inferior. It will not be till 1899 that another great shower of -November meteors may be confidently looked for. But if Schiaparelli -be right, it is quite possible that there may be a shower this year, -due to some scattered flight of the November meteors which, delayed -accidentally (through some special perturbation) many hundreds of years -ago, has come in the course of ages to travel nearly half a circuit -behind the richest part of the system, the 'gem of the meteor-ring,' -as it has been poetically called. Even, however, though no display of -November meteors should be seen, yet the recognition of even a few -scattered stragglers would be exceedingly interesting to astronomers. -A single meteor seen to-night which could be regarded as certainly -belonging to the November system would suffice to show the possibility -that a whole flight of the November meteors might travel at a similar -distance behind the main body. It would be more easy, however, to -identify two such meteors than one, six than two, and a score than -half-a-dozen. The only way in which a meteor can be questioned, so to -speak, respecting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> the family it belongs to, is by noting its path -across the sky. If this path tends directly from the constellation -Leo (however remote Leo may be from the part of the heavens traversed -by the meteor), the chances are that the meteor is a Leonid, or one -of the November family. If the path tends from that particular part -of the constellation Leo (near the end of the curved blade of the -so-called Sickle in Leo), the probability of the meteor being a Leonid -is increased. If two or more meteors are seen to-morrow morning (after -12.30) which both tend from the Sickle in Leo, even though they seem to -tend in opposite directions, the chances are yet greater that they are -travelling in parallel paths along the track of the November meteors, -but some 2,000 million miles behind the main body. Should the number -mount up to a score or so, the conclusion would be, to all intents and -purposes, certain; and the possible occurrence of even a shower of -Leonids at a time midway between the customary <i>maxima</i> of the meteoric -displays would be placed beyond question.</p> - -<p>We must, however, admit that it seems less likely there will be -anything like a display of Leonids to-night than that patient observers -may be able to identify a few of these bodies, and thus—though by -observations of a less attractive kind—to advance our knowledge of -this interesting system. Far more likely is it that towards the end -of the month there will be a display of meteors belonging to another -and an entirely distinct family, a family scarcely less worthy to be -called November meteors <i>par excellence</i>, but actually rejoicing in the -classically unsatisfactory name of Andromeds.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="EXPECTED_METEOR_SHOWER" id="EXPECTED_METEOR_SHOWER"><i>EXPECTED METEOR SHOWER.</i></a></p> - -<p class="center">(From the <i>Times</i> of November 25, 1878.)</p> - - -<p>It is probable that during the next three nights some light may be -thrown on one of the most perplexing yet most interesting of all -the problems recently suggested to the study of astronomers. It is -confidently expected that many of those November meteors called -Andromeds will be seen on one or other of those nights, if not on all -three. No meteor systems, not even the famous systems of August and -November, are more remarkable than this singular family. To explain -why astronomers regard the Andromeds with so much interest, it will -be necessary to speak of an object which at first sight seems in no -way connected with them—an object, in fact, which, so long as it was -actually known to astronomers, was never supposed to be connected with -any family of meteors—the celebrated lost comet called Biela's (or, by -Frenchmen, Gambart's comet). In February, 1826, Biela discovered in the -constellation Aries a comet which was found to be travelling in an oval -path round the sun, in a period of about six years seven and a half -months. Tracing its course backwards, astronomers found that it had -been seen in 1772 by Montaigne, and observed for two or three weeks in -that year by Messier, the great comet hunter. Nothing very remarkable -was recognised regarding this comet in 1826, except the fact that its -path nearly intersects that of our own earth; so that if ever the earth -is to encounter a comet, here seemed to be the comet she had to fear. -Great terror was, indeed, excited by the announcement that in 1832 the -comet would cross the earth's track only four or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> five weeks before the -earth came to the place of danger. But no harm happened. In that year, -and again in 1839, the comet returned quietly enough, though in 1839 -it was not observed, being so placed that it was lost in the splendour -of the solar rays. In February, 1846, the comet was again seen, this -being the third return since its discovery in 1826, or rather, since -its recognition as a member of the solar system, the eleventh since it -was first seen by Montaigne. At this time everything seemed to suggest -that this comet, unless our earth at some future time should absorb it, -would remain for a long time a steady member of the sun's comet family. -But only a few days after its detection in February, 1846, the comet -was found to have divided into two, which travelled side by side until -both vanished from view with increasing distance. In 1852 the companion -comets reappeared, and again both continued in view till their motion -carried them beyond telescopic range. As the distance between the -coupled comets had increased from about 160,000 miles in 1846 to about -1,250,000 miles in 1852, astronomers anticipated a most interesting -series of observations at the successive returns of the double comet to -the earth's neighbourhood. Unfortunately, in 1859 the comet's course -carried it athwart a part of the sky illuminated by the sun's rays, so -that astronomers could not then expect to see it. But in 1866 it was -looked for hopefully. Its orbit had now been most carefully computed, -and many observers, armed with excellent telescopes, were on the watch -for it, with very accurate knowledge of the course along which it -might be expected to travel, and even of its position from day to day -and from hour to hour. But it was not seen. Nor, again, was it seen -in 1872, when fresh computations had been made, and observations were -extended over a wider range, to make sure, as was hopefully thought, -that this time it should not escape recognition. Could it have come, -asked Herschel in 1866—and in 1872 the same question might still -more pertinently be asked—into contact or exceedingly close approach -to some asteroid as yet undiscovered? or, peradventure, had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> it -plunged into and got bewildered among the rings of meteorolites, which -astronomers more than suspected?</p> - -<p>Between 1866, when Sir John Herschel thus wrote, and 1872, when again -Biela's comet was sought in vain, a series of strange discoveries had -been made respecting meteors, which led astronomers to believe that, -even though the missing comet might never again be seen as a comet, -we might still learn something respecting its present condition. -It had been noticed that the remarkable comet of 1862 (comet 11 of -that year) crossed the earth's track near the place where she is on -August 10-11, the time of the August meteors, called the Tears of St. -Lawrence in old times, but now known as the Perseids, because they seem -to radiate from the constellation Perseus. Later the idea occurred -to Schiaparelli, an Italian astronomer, that the August meteors may -travel along the path of that comet. He could not prove this, but he -advanced very strong evidence in favour of the opinion, for he found -that bodies travelling along the path of the comet of 1862 would seem -to radiate from Perseus as they traversed the earth's atmosphere. It -was as if a person suspected that a steam-cloud seen on a distant -railway track belonged to a particular train, and, though unable -actually to prove this, was yet able to show that, with the wind and -weather then prevailing, that train, travelling at its customary rate, -would leave a steam-cloud behind it precisely of the apparent length -and position of the observed steam-cloud. This cloud might have the -observed position though otherwise produced, yet the evidence would be -thought strongly to favour the supposition that it came from the train -in question. In like manner the August meteors might be travelling on -any one of a great number of tracks intersecting the earth's orbit in -the place occupied by the earth on August 10-11; yet it was at least a -striking coincidence that a flight of meteors travelling in the orbit -of the chief comet of 1862 would seem to radiate from the constellation -Perseus, precisely as the August meteors do.</p> - -<p>While astronomers were still discussing the ideas of Schiaparelli, -Professor Newton of Yale College, in America,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> called their attention -to the great display of November meteors which might be expected on -November 13-14, 1866. The fine shower of that year was well observed, -and the part—we may almost say the point—of the constellation Leo -from which the meteors radiated was correctly determined. And now a -strange thing happened. Those who believed in Schiaparelli's account of -the August meteors supposed of necessity that the bodies forming that -system travel in an orbit of enormous extent, for the comet of 1862 -travels on a path extending much further from the sun than the path of -Neptune. There was, therefore, nothing to prevent them from believing -that the Leonides travel in a track carrying them far away from the -sun. The recurrence of great displays of these meteors at intervals of -about 33 years might be readily explained on such an assumption, for if -the Leonides have a period of about 33 years, their path must extend -far beyond the path of Uranus. But hitherto astronomers had not been -ready to admit such an explanation of the periodic recurrence of great -displays of the November meteors. They preferred theories (for several -were available) which accounted for the 33-year period, while assigning -to the Leonides paths of much less extent. Now that the idea of vast -meteoric orbits had been fairly broached, some astronomers thought it -might at least be worth while to calculate the path of the November -meteors on the assumption that their true period is about 33¼ years. -This was perfectly easy, because the period of a body travelling round -the sun determines the velocity at any given distance from the sun, -and knowing thus (at least, on this assumption) the true velocity of -the Leonides as they rush into our air, while their apparent path is -known, their true course is as readily determined as the true course -of the wind can be determined by a seaman from the apparent direction -and velocity with which it reaches his ship. When the path of the -November meteors had been determined (on the assumption mentioned), -it was found to be identical with the path of a comet which had only -been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> discovered a few months before-the comet called Tempel's. That a -comet which is invisible to the naked eye should have been discovered -in the very year when first astronomers made exact observations of the -meteors which travel in its track—for it will presently be seen that -the assumption above mentioned was a just one—cannot but be regarded -as a very singular coincidence. It was a most fortunate coincidence -for astronomers, since there can be but little doubt that but for it -Schiaparelli's theory would very soon have been forgotten. As that -theory was itself suggested by the fortuitous recognition of another -comet (only visible at intervals of more than a century) at a time when -attention had been specially directed to the August meteors, it may -fairly be said that the theory which now associates meteors and comets -in the most unmistakable manner was suggested by one accident and -confirmed by another. Albeit such accidents happen only to the zealous -student of nature's secrets. We shall presently see that the fortunate -detection of Tempel's comet in 1866 was not the last of the series of -coincidences by which the theory of meteors was established.</p> - -<p>Although the evidence favouring Schiaparelli's theory was now strong, -yet it was well that at this stage still more convincing evidence -was forthcoming. The date of the November display has changed since -the Leonides were first recognised, in such sort as to show that the -position of their path has changed. The change is due to the disturbing -attractions of the planets. It occurred to our great astronomer Adams, -discoverer with Leverrier of distant Neptune, to inquire whether the -observed change accorded with the calculated effects of planetary -attraction, if the Leonides are supposed to travel in any of the -smaller paths suggested by astronomers, or could be explained only by -the assumption that the meteors travel on the widely-extending path -corresponding to the 33¼ years period. The problem was worthy of -his powers—in other words, it was a problem of exceeding difficulty. -By solving it, Adams<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> made that certain which Schiaparelli and his -followers had merely assumed. He showed beyond all possibility of -doubt or question that of all the paths by which the periodic meteoric -displays could be accounted for, the wide path carrying the November -meteors far beyond the track of Uranus was the only one which accorded -with the observed effects of planetary perturbation.</p> - -<p>It was in the confidence resulting from this masterly achievement that -in 1872 some astronomers (among them Professor Alex. Herschel, one of -Sir J. Herschel's sons) announced the probable occurrence of a display -of meteors when the earth crossed the track of Biela's missing comet. -An occurrence of this sort was alone wanting to complete the evidence -for the meteoric theory. It had been found that the August Perseids -move as if they followed in the track of a known comet; the path of the -November Leonides had been shown to be identical with that of another -comet; if astronomers could predict the appearance of meteors at the -time when the earth should pass through the track of a known comet, -even those who could not appreciate the force of the mathematical -evidence for the new theory would be convinced by the meteoric display. -Possibly such observers would have been satisfied with a meteor shower -which would not have contented astronomers. The display must have -special characteristics to satisfy scientific observers. The path of a -body following Biela's comet being known, and its exact rate of motion, -the direction in which it must enter our earth's atmosphere (if at -all) is determined. Calculation showed this direction to be such that -every meteor would appear to travel directly from the constellation -Andromeda,—from a point near the feet of the Chained Lady. A meteor -might appear in any part of the sky, but its course must be directed -from that point, otherwise it could not possibly be travelling in the -track of Biela's comet.</p> - -<p>The event corresponded exactly with the anticipations of astronomers. -On the evening of November 27, 1872, many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> thousands of small meteors -were seen. In England between 40,000 and 50,000 were counted. In Italy -the meteors were so numerous that at one time there seemed to be a -cloud of light around the region near the feet of Andromeda whence all -the meteor-tracks seemed to radiate. The meteors were unmistakably -travelling on the track of Biela's comet. They overtook the earth on -a path slanting downwards somewhat from the north—precisely in the -direction in which Biela's comet would itself have descended upon the -earth if at any time the earth had chanced to reach the part of her -path crossed by the comet's when the comet was passing that way.</p> - -<p>Strangely enough, a German astronomer, Klinkerfues, seems to have -regarded the meteoric display of November 27, 1872, as an actual visit -from Biela's comet. He telegraphed to Pogson, Government Astronomer -at Madras, 'Biela touched earth on November 27, look out for it near -Theta Centauri;' which, being interpreted, means, Biela's comet then -grazed the earth, coming from the feet of Andromeda, look for it where -it is travelling onwards in the opposite direction—that is towards the -shoulder of the Centaur. As Biela's comet had in reality passed that -way twelve weeks earlier, the instructions of Klinkerfues were somewhat -wide of the mark. However, Pogson followed them, and near the spot -indicated he saw two faint cloud-like objects, slowly moving athwart -the heavens. These he supposed to be the two comets into which the -missing comet had divided. It so happens, strangely enough, that these -objects, though moving parallel to the track of the missing comets, -were neither those comets themselves, nor the meteor flight through -which the earth had passed a few hours before. They were probably -somewhat richer meteor clouds, fragments (like the cloud through which -our earth had passed) of this most mysterious of all known comets.</p> - -<p>To-night, or perhaps to-morrow or next night (for the position of the -meteor flights is not certainly known) we shall probably see meteors -travelling in advance of the main body.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> For the earth passes during -the next three days across the orbit of Biela's comet, about as far -in front of the head as she passed behind the head in 1872. Now, -there is no known reason for supposing (on <i>à priori</i> grounds) that -meteors get strewn behind a comet's nucleus more readily than in front -of it. The disturbing forces which would tend to delay some meteoric -attendants would be balanced by forces which would tend to hasten -others. As a matter of fact it would seem that the meteor flights -which follow a comet's nucleus are commonly denser than those which -precede the nucleus. Yet in 1865 many thousands of Leonides were seen -which were in advance of the main body forming the comet of 1866. In -1859, 1860, and 1861, many Perseids were seen, which were in advance -of the comet of 1862. So that we might fairly expect to see a great -number of Andromeds to-night (or on the following nights) even if we -had none but the probabilities thus suggested to guide us. But since -many were seen on November 27 last, when the head of the comet, now -some four months' journey from us, was a whole year's journey further -away, it seems probable that on the present occasion a display well -worth observing will be seen should fine weather prevail. It will be -specially interesting to astronomers, as showing how meteors are strewn -in front of a comet. How meteors are strewn behind a comet we already -know tolerably well from observations made on the Perseids since 1862 -and on the Leonides since 1865.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="COLD_WINTERS" id="COLD_WINTERS"><i>COLD WINTERS.</i></a></p> - - -<p>During the cold weather of last December (1878) we heard much about -old-fashioned winters. It was generally assumed that some thirty or -forty years ago the winters were colder than they now are. Some began -to speculate on the probability that we may be about to have a cycle -of cold winters, continuing perhaps for thirty or forty years, as the -cycle of mild winters is commonly supposed to have done. If any doubts -were expressed as to the greater severity of winter weather thirty -or forty years ago, evidence was forthcoming to show that at that -time our smaller rivers were commonly frozen over during the winter, -and the larger rivers always encumbered with masses of ice, and not -unfrequently frozen from source to estuary. Skating was spoken of as a -half-forgotten pastime in these days, as compared with what it was when -the seniors of our time were lads. Nor were dismal stories wanting of -villages snowed up for months, of men and women who had been lost amid -snowdrifts, and of other troubles such as we now associate rather with -Siberian than with British winters.</p> - -<p>Turning over recently the volume of the 'Penny Magazine' for the year -1837, I came across a passage which shows that these ideas about -winter weather forty years ago were entertained forty years ago about -winter weather eighty or ninety years ago. It occurs in an article on -the 'Peculiarities of the Climate of Canada and the United States.' -Discussing the theory whether the clearing away of forests has any -influence in mitigating the severity of winter weather, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> writer -of the article says, 'Many persons assert, and I believe with some -degree of accuracy, that the seasons in Europe, and in our own island -particularly, have undergone a remarkable change within the memory -of many persons now living; and if such really be the case, how few -attempts have been made to account for this change, since no great -natural phenomenon, like that of clearing away millions of acres of -forest timber, and thereby exposing the cold and moist soil to the -action of the sun's rays, has recently taken place here; so that if the -climate of Great Britain has actually undergone a change, the cause, -whatever that may be, must be of a different nature from that generally -supposed to affect the climate of North America.' It must be explained -that, though in this passage the writer does not speak of a diminution -in the severity of the winters, it is a change of that sort that he is -really referring to. He had said, a few lines before, that 'some of -the older inhabitants of North America will declare to you that the -winters are much less severe "now" than they were forty or fifty years -ago,' and in the passage quoted he is discussing the possibility of a -similar change in Europe, where, however, as he points out, the cause -assigned to the supposed change in America has certainly no existence. -Since 1830, by the way, the theory has been advanced that the supposed -mildness of recent winters may have been caused by the large increase -in the consumption of coal, owing to the use of steam machinery, gas -for lighting purposes, and so forth.</p> - -<p>I believe it will be found on careful inquiry that the change for -which forty years ago men sought a cause in vain, and for which at -present they assign a perfectly inadequate cause, has had no real -existence. The study of meteorological records gives no valid support -to the theory of change. Nor is it difficult to understand how the idea -that there has been a change has arisen from the changed conditions -under which men in middle life, as compared with children, observe -or feel the effects of milder weather. A child gives no heed to mild -winters. They pass, like ordinary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> spring or autumn days, unnoted and -unremembered. But a bitter winter, or even a spell of bitter weather -such as is felt almost every year, is remembered. Even though it lasts -but for a short time, it produces as much effect on the childish -imagination as a long and bitter winter produces on the minds of grown -folk. Looking back at the days of childhood, the middle-aged man or -woman recalls what seems like a series of bitter winters, because -recalling many occasions when, during what seemed a long time, the snow -lay deep, the waters were frozen, and the outdoor air was shrewd and -biting.</p> - -<p>Before considering some of the remarkable winters which during the last -century have been experienced in Great Britain and in Europe generally, -I would discuss briefly the evidence on which I base the belief that -the winter weather of Europe, and of Great Britain especially, has -undergone no noteworthy change during the last century.</p> - -<p>If there is any validity in the theory at present in vogue that our -winters are milder now than they were forty or fifty years ago, and -the theory in vogue as we have seen forty years ago that the winters -then were milder than they had been forty or fifty years earlier, it is -manifest that there ought to be a very remarkable contrast between our -present winter weather and that which was commonly experienced eighty -or ninety years since. Now, it so chances that we possess a record of -the weather from 1768 to 1792, by a very competent observer—Gilbert -White of Selborne—which serves to show what weather prevailed -generally during that interval; while the same writer has described -at length, in his own happy and effective manner, some of the winters -which were specially remarkable for severity. Let us see whether the -winters during the last third of the eighteenth century were so much -more bitter or long-lasting than those now experienced as common ideas -on the subject would suggest.</p> - -<p>In 1768, the year began with a fortnight's frost and snow. The cold was -very severe, as will presently be more particularly noted. Thereafter -wet and rainy weather prevailed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> the end of February. The winter of -1768-69 was marked throughout by alternations of rain and frost; thus -from the middle of November to the end of 1768 there were 'alternate -rains and frosts;' in January and February, 1769, the weather was -'frosty and rainy, with gleams of fine weather in the intervals; then -to the middle of March, wind and rain.' The last half of November, -1769, was dry and frosty, December windy, with rain and intervals of -frost, and the first fortnight very foggy; the first fortnight of -January, 1770, frosty, but on the 14th and 15th all the snow melted -and to the end of February mild hazy weather prevailed; March was -frosty and bright. From the middle of October, 1770, to the end of the -year, there were almost incessant rains; then severe frosts till the -last week of January, 1771, after which rain and snow prevailed for a -fortnight, followed by spring weather till the end of February. March -and April were frosty. The spring of 1771 was so exceptionally severe -in the Isle of Skye that it was called the Black Spring; in the south -also it was severe. November, 1771, frost with intervals of fog and -rain; December, mild and bright weather with hoar frosts; January and -the first week of February, 1772, frost and snow; thence to the end of -the first fortnight in March, frost, sleet, rain, and snow.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1772-73 would fairly compare with the mildest in recent -years, except for one fortnight of hard frost in February, 1773. For -from the end of September to December 22 there were rain and mild -weather—the first ice on December 23—but thence to the end of the -month foggy weather. The first week in January, frost, but the rest of -the month dark rainy weather; and after the fortnight of hard frost in -February, misty showery weather to the end of the first week in March, -and bright spring days till April.</p> - -<p>There were four weeks of frost after the end of the first fortnight in -November, 1773, then rain to the end of the year, and rain and frost -alternately to the middle of March, 1774.</p> - -<p>In 1774-1775 there seems to have been no winter at all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> worth -mentioning. From August 24 to the end of the third week in November -there was rain, with frequent intervals of sunny weather. Then to the -end of December, dark dripping fogs. January, February, and the first -half of March, 1775, rain almost every day; and to the end of the first -week in April, cold winds, with showers of rain and snow.</p> - -<p>The end of the year 1775 was rainy, with intervals of hoar frost and -sunshine. Dark frosty weather prevailed during the first three weeks of -January, 1776, with much snow. Afterwards foggy weather and hoar frost. -The cold of January, 1776, was remarkable, and will presently be more -fully described.</p> - -<p>November and December, 1776, were dry and frosty, with some days of -hard rain. Then to January 10, 1777, hard frost; to the 20th foggy -with frequent showers; and to February 18, hard dry frost with snow, -followed by heavy rains, with intervals of warm dry spring weather to -the end of May.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1777-78 was another which resembled closely enough those -winters which many suppose to be peculiar to recent years. The autumn -weather to October 12 had been remarkably fine and warm. From then to -the end of the year, grey mild weather prevailed, with but little rain -and still less frost. During the first thirteen days of January there -was frost with a little snow; then rain to January 24, followed by six -days of hard frost. After this, harsh foggy weather with rain prevailed -till February 23; then five days of frost; a fortnight of dark harsh -weather; and spring weather to the end of the first fortnight in April. -The second fortnight of April, however, was cold, with snow and frost.</p> - -<p>Similarly varied in character was the winter of 1778-79. From the end -of September, 1778, to the end of the year the weather was wet, with -considerable intervals of sunshine. January, 1779, was characterised by -alternations of frost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> and showers. After this, to April 21, warm dry -weather prevailed.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1779-80 was rather more severe. During October and -November the weather was fine with intervals of rain. December rainy, -with frost and snow occasionally. January 1780, frosty. During February -dark harsh weather prevailed, with frequent intervals of frost. March -was characterised by warm, showery, spring weather.</p> - -<p>November and December, 1781, were warm and rainy; and the same mild -open weather prevailed till February 4. Then followed eighteen days of -hard frost, after which to the end of March the weather was cold and -windy, with frost, snow, and rain. Thus the first two-thirds of the -winter of 1781-82 were exceptionally mild, while the last third was -cold and bleak.</p> - -<p>In November, 1782, we find for the first time in these records an -instance of early and long-continued cold. 'November began with a hard -frost, and continued throughout, with alternate frost and thaw. The -first part of December frosty.' The latter half of December, however, -and the first sixteen days of January were mild, with much rain and -wind. Then came a week of hard frost, followed by stormy dripping -weather to the end of February. Thence to May 9, cold harsh winds -prevailed. On May 5 there was thick ice.</p> - -<p>The next two winters were, on the whole, the severest of the entire -series recorded by Gilbert White, though at no time in the winter of -1783-84 was the cold greater than has often been experienced in this -country. White's record runs thus: From September 23 to November 12, -dry mild weather. To December 18, grey soft weather with a few showers. -Thence to February 19, 1784, hard frost, with two thaws, one on January -14, the other on February 5. To February 28, mild wet fogs. To March 3, -frost with ice. To March 10, sleet and snow. To April 2, snow with hard -frost.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1784-85 was remarkable for the ex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>ceedingly severe -cold of December, 1784, which will presently be referred to more -particularly. From November 6 to the end of the year 1784, fog, rain, -and hard frost alternated, the frost continuing longest and being -severest in December. On January 2 a thaw began, and rainy weather with -wind continued to January 28. Thence to March 15 hard frost; to March -21 mild weather with sprinkling showers; to April 7 hard frost.</p> - -<p>After rainy weather till December 23, 1786, came frost and snow till -January 7, 1787. Then a week of mild and very rainy weather, followed -by a week of heavy snow. From January 21 to February 11, mild weather -with frequent rains; to February 21 dry weather with high winds; and to -March 10, hard frost. Then alternate rains and frosts to April 13.</p> - -<p>Early in November, 1786, there was frost, but thence to December 16 -rain with only 'a few detached days of frost.' After a fortnight of -frost and snow, came 24 days of dark, moist, mild weather. Then four -days (from January 24 to January 28, 1787) of frost and snow; after -which mild showery weather to February 16, dry cool weather to February -28, stormy and rainy weather to March 10. The next fortnight bright and -frosty; then mild rainy weather to the end of April.</p> - -<p>November, 1787, was mild till the 23rd, the last week frosty. The -first three weeks of December still and mild, with rain, the last week -frosty. The first thirteen days of January mild and wet; then five days -of frost, followed by dry, windy weather. February frosty, but with -frequent showers. The first half of March hard frost, the rest dark -harsh weather with much rain.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1788-89 was very severe, hard frost continuing from -November 22, 1788, to January 13, 1789. The rest of January was mild -with showers. February rainy, with snow showers and heavy gales of -wind. The first thirteen days of March hard frost, with snow, and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> -till April 18, heavy rain, with frost, snow, and sleet. This winter was -very severe also on the Continent.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1789-90 was as mild as that of 1788-89 had been severe. -The record runs thus:—'November to 17th, heavy rains with violent -gales of wind. To December 18, mild dry weather with a few showers. -To the end of the year rain and wind. To January 16, 1790, mild foggy -weather, with occasional rains. To January 21' (five days only) 'frost. -To January 28, dark, with driving rains. To February 14, mild dry -weather. To February 22' (eight days) 'hard frost.' To April 5 bright -cold weather with a few showers.</p> - -<p>In November, 1790, mild autumnal weather prevailed till the 26th, after -which there were five days of hard frost. Thence to the end of the -year, rain and snow, with a few days of frost. The whole of January, -1791, was mild with heavy rains; February windy, with much rain and -snow. Then to the end of April dry, but 'rather cold and frosty.'</p> - -<p>November, 1791, was very wet and stormy, December frosty. There was -some hard frost in January, 1792, but the weather mostly wet and mild. -In February also there was some hard frost and a little snow. March was -wet and cold.</p> - -<p>The record ends with the year 1792, the last three months of which -are thus described: 'October showery and mild. November dry and fine. -December mild.'</p> - -<p>Certainly the account of the 23 years between 1768 and 1792 does not -suggest that there is any material difference between the winter -weather now common and the average winter weather a century ago. Still -it may be necessary to show, that when men spoke of mild weather in old -times, they meant what we should understand by the same expression. -A reference to rain or showery weather shows sufficiently that a -temperature above the freezing point existed while such weather -prevailed. But it might be that what White speaks of as mild weather, -is such as we should consider severe. In order to show that this is -not the case, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> will suffice to examine his statement respecting the -actual temperature in particular winters, considering them always with -due reference to what he says as to their exceptional character.</p> - -<p>Take for instance his account of the frost in January, 1768. He says -that, for the short time it lasted, this frost 'was the most severe -that we had then known for many years, and was remarkably injurious to -evergreens.' 'The coincidents attending this short but intense frost,' -he proceeds, after describing his vegetable losses, 'were, that the -horses fell sick with an epidemic distemper, which injured the winds -of many and killed some; that colds and coughs were general among the -human species; that it froze under people's beds for several nights; -that meat was so hard frozen that it could not be spitted, and could -not be secured but in cellars, &c.' On the 3rd of January a thermometer -within doors, in a close parlour, where there was no fire, fell in the -night to 20; on the 4th to 18; and on the 7th to 17½ degrees, 'a -degree of cold which the owner never since saw in the same situation.' -The evidence from the thermometer is unsatisfactory, because we do not -know how the parlour was situated. But there is reason for supposing -that in the bitterest winters known during the last thirty or forty -years, a greater degree of cold than that of January, 1768, has been -experienced in England.</p> - -<p>The frost of January, 1776, was also regarded as remarkable, and an -account of it will therefore enable us to judge what was the ordinary -winter weather of the last century.</p> - -<p>In the first place, White notices that 'the first week of January, -1776, was very wet, and drowned with vast rains from every quarter; -from whence may be inferred, as there is great reason to believe is -the case, that intense frosts seldom take place till the earth is -perfectly glutted and chilled with water; and hence dry autumns are -seldom followed by rigorous winters.' On the 14th, after a week of -frost, sleet, and snow, which after the 12th 'overwhelmed all the -works of men, drifting over the tops of gates, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> filling the hollow -lanes,' White had occasion to be much abroad. He thought he had never -before or since encountered such rugged Siberian weather. 'Many of the -narrow roads were now filled above the tops of the hedges, through -which the snow was driven into most romantic and grotesque shapes, -so striking to the imagination as not to be seen without wonder -and pleasure. The poultry dared not to stir out of their roosting -places: for cocks and hens are so dazzled and confounded by the glare -of snow, that they would soon perish without assistance. The hares -also lay sullenly in their seats, and would not move till compelled -by hunger: being conscious, poor animals, that the drifts and heaps -treacherously betray their footsteps and prove fatal to many of them.' -From the 14th the snow continued to increase, and began to stop the -road-wagons and coaches, which could no longer keep their regular -stages; and especially on the Western roads. 'The company at Bath that -wanted to attend the Queen's birthday were strangely incommoded; many -carriages of persons who got on their way to town from Bath, as far as -Marlborough, after strange embarrassments, here met with a <i>ne plus -ultra</i>. The ladies fretted, and offered large rewards to labourers, if -they would shovel them a road to London; but the relentless heaps of -snow were too bulky to be removed; and so the 18th passed over, leaving -the company in very uncomfortable circumstances, at the Castle and -other inns.'</p> - -<p>Yet all this time and till the 21st the cold was not so intense as it -was in December 1878. On the 21st the thermometer showed 20 degrees, -and had it not been for the deep snows, the winter would not have been -very severely felt. On the 22nd, the author had occasion to go to -London 'through a sort of Laplandian scene, very wild and grotesque -indeed.' But London exhibited an even stranger appearance than the -country. 'Being bedded deep in snow, the pavement of the streets could -not be touched by the wheels or the horses' feet, so that the carriages -ran almost without the least noise.' 'Such an exemption from din and -clatter,' says White, 'was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> strange but not pleasant; it seemed to -convey an uncomfortable idea of desolation:</p> - -<p class="center"> -<i>Ipsa silentia terrent.</i> -</p> - -<p>'The worst had not yet, however, been reached. On the 27th much snow -fell all day, and in the evening the frost became very intense. At -South Lambeth, for the four following nights, the thermometer fell to -eleven, seven, six, six; and at Selborne to seven, six, ten; and on the -31st, just before sunrise, with rime on the trees and on the tube of -the glass, the quicksilver sank exactly to zero—<i>a most unusual degree -of cold this for the South of England</i>.' During these four nights, the -cold was so penetrating that ice formed under beds; and in the day the -wind was so keen, that persons of robust constitutions could hardly -endure to face it. 'The Thames was at once frozen over, both above and -below bridge, that crowds ran about on the ice. The streets were now -strangely encumbered with snow, which crumbled and trod dusty; and -turning gray, resembled bay salt; what had fallen on the roofs was so -perfectly dry that from first to last it lay twenty-six days on the -houses in the city; <i>a longer time than had been remembered by the -oldest housekeepers living</i>.'</p> - -<p>According to all appearances rigorous weather might now have been -expected for weeks to come, since every night increased in severity. -'But behold,' says White, 'without any apparent cause, on February 1, -a thaw took place, and some rain followed before night, making good -the observation that frosts often go off as it were at once without -any gradual declension of cold. On February 2 the thaw persisted, and -on the 3rd swarms of little insects were frisking and sporting in a -court-yard at South Lambeth, as if they had felt no frost. Why the -juices in the small bodies and smaller limbs of such minute beings are -not frozen, is a matter of curious inquiry.'</p> - -<p>Although it is manifest that the weather of January, 1776, was severe, -yet the remarks italicised show that such weather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> was regarded a -century ago as altogether exceptional. Again, the cold lasted only -about three weeks. And it may be doubted whether in actual intensity -it even equalled that which was experienced in London and the south of -England generally during the first week of 1855. Certainly the evidence -afforded by such remarks as I have italicised in the above-quoted -passage tends more to prove that winter weather in England a hundred -years hence was on the average much like winter at present, than the -unusual severity of the weather during about twenty-four days in -January, 1776, tends to suggest that a marked change has taken place.</p> - -<p>Similar evidence is afforded by White's remarks respecting the severe -cold of December, 1784.</p> - -<p>As in January, 1776, so in December, 1784—a week of very wet weather -heralded the approach of severe cold. 'The first week of December,' -says White, 'was very wet, with the barometer very low. On the 7th, -with the barometer at 28.5, came on a vast snow, which continued all -that day and the next, and most part of the following night: so that -by the morning of the 9th the works of men were quite overwhelmed' -(there is something quite Homeric in White's use of this favourite -expression), 'the lanes filled so as to be impassable, and the ground -covered twelve or fifteen inches without any drifting. In the evening -of the 9th the air began to be so very sharp that we thought it would -be curious to attend to the motions of a thermometer; we therefore hung -out two, one made by Martin and one by Dolland' (probably Dollond), -'which soon began to show us what we were to expect; for by ten o'clock -they fell to twenty-one, and at eleven to four, when we went to bed. -On the 10th in the morning the quicksilver of Dolland's glass was down -to half a degree below zero and that of Martin's, which was absurdly -graduated only to four degrees above zero, sunk quite into the brass -guard of the ball, so that, when the weather became most interesting, -this was useless. On the 10th, at eleven at night, though the air was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> -perfectly still, Dolland's glass went down to one degree below zero! -This strange severity of the weather made me very desirous to know what -degree of cold there might be in such an exalted and near situation as -Newton. We had, therefore, on the morning of the 10th, written to Mr. -----, and entreated him to hang out his thermometer, made by Adams, and -to pay some attention to it, morning and evening, expecting wonderful -phenomena in so elevated a region, at two hundred feet or more above -my house. But, behold! on the 10th, at eleven at night, it was down -only to seventeen, and the next morning at twenty-two, when mine was -at ten! We were so disturbed at this unexpected reverse of comparative -cold that we sent one of my glasses up, thinking that of Mr. —— -must somehow be wrongly constructed. But when the instruments came to -be confronted they went exactly together, so that for one night at -least the cold at Newton was eighteen degrees less than at Selborne, -and through the whole frost ten or twelve degrees; and indeed, when -we came to observe consequences, we could readily credit this, for -all my laurustines, bays, ilexes, arbutuses, cypresses, and even my -Portugal laurels—and, which occasions more regret, my fine sloping -laurel hedge—were scorched up, while at Newton the same trees have not -lost a leaf....' One circumstance noted by White, though not bearing -specially on the degree of cold which prevailed on this occasion, is -very interesting. 'I must not omit to tell you,' says White, 'that -during those two Siberian days my parlour cat was so electric that had -a person stroked her and been properly insulated, the shock might have -been given to a whole circle of people.'</p> - -<p>White's account of this severe frost bears very significantly on the -theory that our winter weather has undergone a great change. It is -obvious, in the first place, that the situation of his thermometers -was such that they were likely to show a low temperature as compared -with the indications in other places. It is also clear that the -thermometer he used was trustworthy. If it were one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> Dollond's it -would presumably be a good one, and I do not think that in White's time -the trick of marking inferior instruments with the name Dolland had -come into vogue. But in any case Adams's scientific instruments were -excellent; and, as the account shows, the thermometer used by White -indicated the same temperature as Adams's. Now, the lowest temperature -recorded was only one degree below zero; and that this was altogether -exceptional is shown not only by what White says in the passage I have -quoted, but also by his remarking a little later that this frost 'may -be allowed, from its effects, to have exceeded any since 1739-40.' -Even this is not all. It would certainly prove beyond dispute that our -winters were not milder than those of a century ago; for a greater -degree of cold than that recorded by White in December, 1784, has been -more than once experienced in the same part of England during the last -forty years. But it seems from a statement in Miller's 'Gardener's -Dictionary,' that the Portugal laurels were untouched in the great -frost of 1739-40, which would show that the frost of 1784 was more -severe and destructive than that of 1739-40. If this were really so, -the frost of 1784 was the severest (though owing to its short duration -it did not produce the most remarkable effects in the country at large) -of any during the periods noted between the years 1709 and 1788. On the -Continent, the frost of December, 1788, was more severe in some places, -though rather less severe at Paris, than that of 1709; but I do not -know of any records which would enable us to make a direct comparison -between the cold in 1709, 1784, and 1788, at any given place in Great -Britain.</p> - -<p>It will be well now to take a wider survey and consider some of the -most severe winters experienced in Europe generally.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1544 was remarkably severe all over Europe. In Flanders, -according to Mézerai, wine froze in casks, and was sold in blocks by -the pound weight. The winter of 1608 was also very severe. In the -winter of 1709<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> the thermometer at the Paris Observatory recorded a -cold of nearly ten degrees below zero.</p> - -<p>Passing over the winter of 1776, of whose effects in England we have -learned enough to enable us to judge how severely it must have been -felt in those continental countries where the winter is always more -severe than with us, we come to the severe winter of 1788-89.</p> - -<p>We have seen that in England hard frost began on November 22 and -continued till January 13. In France (or rather at Paris) the frost -began three days later, but the thaw began on the same day, January -13. There was no intermission except on Christmas Day, when it did not -freeze. In the great canal at Versailles the ice was two feet thick. -'The water also froze,' says Flammarion, 'in several very deep wells, -and wine became congealed in cellars. The Seine began to freeze as -early as November 26, and for several days its course was impeded, the -breaking up of the ice not taking place until January 20 (1789). The -lowest temperature observed at Paris was seven degrees below zero, on -December 31. The frost was equally severe in other parts of France -and throughout Europe. The Rhone was quite frozen over at Lyons, the -Garonne at Toulouse, and at Marseilles the sides of the docks were -covered with ice. Upon the shores of the Atlantic the sea was frozen to -a distance of several leagues. The ice upon the Rhine was so thick that -loaded wagons were able to cross it. The Elbe was covered with ice, and -also bore up heavy carts. The harbour at Ostend was frozen so hard that -people could cross it on horseback; the sea was congealed to a distance -of four leagues from the exterior fortifications, and no vessel could -approach the harbour.'</p> - -<p>It was during the frost of 1788-89 that a fair was held on the Thames. -The river was frozen as low as Gravesend; but it was only in London -that booths were set up. The Thames fair lasted during the Christmas -holidays and the first twelve days of January.</p> - -<p>At Strasburg, on December 31, a temperature of fifteen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> degrees below -zero was shown. At Berlin on the 20th, and St. Petersburg on the 12th, -temperatures of twenty and twenty-three degrees below zero respectively -were noted. But in Poland and parts of Germany an even greater degree -of cold was recorded. For instance, at Warsaw, 26½ degrees below -zero; and at Bremen thirty-two degrees. At Basle, on December 18, the -thermometer indicated nearly thirty-six degrees below zero. In the -district around Toulouse bread was frozen so hard that it could not be -cut till it had been laid before the fire. Many travellers perished in -the snow. At Lemburg, in Galicia, thirty-seven persons were found dead -in three days towards the end of December. The ice froze so thick in -ponds that in most of them all the fish were killed.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1794-95 was remarkable in this country as giving the -lowest average temperature for a month ever recorded in England. The -mean temperature for January, 1795, was only 26.5 degrees; or more -than three degrees lower than that of last January. January 25, 1795, -is commonly supposed to have been the coldest day ever known. The -thermometer in London stood at eight degrees below zero during part of -that bitter day; and in Paris, where also there were six consecutive -weeks of frost, at 10-3/7 degrees below zero. The Thames was frozen -over at Whitehall in the beginning of January. The Marne, the Scheldt, -the Rhine, and the Seine were so frozen over that army corps and heavy -carriages crossed over them. Perhaps the strangest of all the recorded -results of cold weather occurred during the same month. The French -General Pichegru, who was then operating in the North of Holland, sent -detachments of cavalry and infantry about January 20, with orders to -the former to cross the Texel and to capture the enemy's vessels, which -were 'imprisoned by the ice.' 'The French horsemen crossed the plains -of ice at full gallop,' we are told, 'approached the vessels, called on -them to surrender, captured them without a struggle, and took the crews -prisoners:' probably the only occasion in history when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> effective use -could have been made of a corps of horse-marines.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1798-99 was very cold, but not so exceptionally cold -in England as on the Continent. The Seine was completely frozen over -from the 29th of December to the 19th of January, from the Pont de la -Tournelle to the Pont Royal. Farther east the cold was much greater. -The Meuse was frozen over so thickly that carriages could cross it, and -at the Hague and at Rotterdam fairs were held on the river. A regiment -of dragoons starting from Mayence, crossed the Rhine upon the ice.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1812-13 was exceeding cold in November, December and -January. It was this unusually early and bitter winter which occasioned -the destruction of Napoleon's army in Russia, and the eventual -overthrow of his power. (For no one who considers his achievements -during the campaigns of 1813 and 1814 can doubt that, had the army -with which he invaded Russia been at his command, he would have foiled -all the efforts of combined Europe against him.) The cold became -very intense in Russia after the 7th of November. On the 17th the -thermometer fell to 15 degrees below zero, according to Larrey, who -carried a thermometer suspended from his button hole. The retreat from -Moscow began on the 18th, Napoleon leaving the still burning city on -the 19th, and the evacuation being complete on the 23rd. Everything -seemed to conspire against Napoleon and his army. During the march -to Smolensk snow fell almost incessantly. Even the only intermission -of the cold during the retreat caused additional disaster. On the -18th of November, Russian troops had crossed the frozen Dwina with -their artillery. A thaw begun on the 24th, but continued only for a -short time; 'so that from the 26th to the 29th the Beresina contained -numerous blocks of ice, but yet was not so frozen over as to afford a -passage to the French troops.' It was to this circumstance that the -terribly disastrous nature of the passage of the Beresina must mainly -be attributed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> - -<p>The winter of 1813-14 was colder in England than on the Continent—I -mean, the winter here was colder for England than the winter in any -region of continental Europe was for that region. The frost lasted from -December 26 to March 21, and the mean temperature of January was only -26.8 degrees. The Thames was frozen over very thickly, and a fair was -held on the frozen river.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1819-20 was bitter throughout Europe. Mr. Thomas Plant, -in an interesting letter to the <i>Times</i> of February 4, says that this -winter was one long spell of intense frost from November to March, -and was almost as severe as that of 1813-14. In Paris there were -forty-seven days of frost, nineteen of which were consecutive, from -December 30, 1818, to January 17. 'In France,' says Flammarion, 'the -intensity of the cold was heralded by the passage along the coast of -the Pas de Calais of a great number of birds coming from the farthest -regions of the north by wild swans and ducks of variegated plumage. -Several travellers perished of cold; amongst others a farmer near -Arras, a gamekeeper near Nogent (Haute Marne) a man and woman in -the Côte d'Or, two travellers at Breuil, on the Meuse, a woman and -a child on the road from Etain to Verdun, six persons near Château -Salins (Meurthe), and two little Savoyards on the road from Clermont -to Chalons-sur-Saône. In the experiments made at the Metz School of -Artillery, on the 10th of January, to ascertain how iron resisted low -temperatures, several soldiers had their hands or their ears frozen.' -During this winter the Thames, the Seine, the Rhône, the Rhine, the -Danube, the Garonne, the lagoons of Venice, and the Sound, were so far -frozen that it was possible to walk across them on the ice.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1829-30 was remarkable as the longest winter of the first -half of the present century. The cold was not exceptionally intense, -but the long continuance of bitter weather occasioned more mischief in -the long run than has attended short spells of severer cold. The river -Seine was frozen at Paris first for twenty-nine days, from December -28th<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> to January 26th, and then for five days from February 5th to -February 10th. The river had not been so many days frost-bound in any -winter since 1763. Even at Havre the Seine was frozen over; and at -Rouen a fair was held upon the river on January 18th. On January 25, -after a thaw of six days, the ice from Corbeil and Melun blocked up the -bridge at Choisy, forming a wall 16½ feet high.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1837-38 was remarkable for the long frost of January -and February, 1838. It lasted eight weeks. Mr. Plant mentions that -'the lowest point of the thermometer during this long and severe frost -occurred on January 20, when the readings were from 5 degrees below -zero, in this district' (Moseley, near Birmingham), 'to 8 and 10 -degrees below zero in more exposed aspects.' 'On the 13th of January, -the old Royal Exchange, London, was destroyed by fire; and the frost -was so great that, when the fire brigade had ceased playing on one -portion of the burning pile, the water in a short time became icicles -of such large dimensions, that the effect has been described as grand -in the extreme.'</p> - -<p>The winter of 1837-38 is not usually included as one among the -exceptionally cold winters on the Continent, and the winter of 1840-41, -though certainly cold in the British Isles, is not included by Mr. -Plant in his list of the coldest winters since 1795. But this winter -was exceedingly cold on the Continent. At Paris there were fifty-nine -days' frost, twenty-seven of them consecutive—viz. from December 5th, -when the cold began, to January 1st. The intermission which began on -January 1, lasted only till January 3, when there was another week of -frost. There was frost again from January 30 to February 10. One of the -most remarkable stories connected with the cold of this winter is thus -told by Flammarion:—'On the 15th of December, the ashes of Napoleon, -brought back from St. Helena, entered Paris by the Arc de Triomphe. -The thermometer in places exposed to nocturnal radiation, had that day -marked 6.8 degrees above zero. An immense crowd, the National Guard of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> -Paris and its suburbs, and numerous regiments lined the Champs Elysées, -from the early morning until two in the afternoon. Every one suffered -severely from the cold. Soldiers and workmen, hoping to obtain warmth -by drinking brandy' (the most chilling process they could have thought -of), 'were seized by the cold, and dropped down dead of congestion. -Several persons perished, victims of their curiosity: having climbed up -into the trees to see the procession, their extremities, benumbed by -the cold, failed to support them, and they were killed by the fall.'</p> - -<p>The winter of 1844-45 was remarkable for the long duration of cold -weather. The whole of December was very cold, January not so severe, -but still cold, February singularly cold, and the frost so severe -in March that on Good Friday (March 21st) the boats, which had been -frost-bound for weeks in the canals, were still locked tightly in ice.</p> - -<p>Mr. Plant omits to notice in the letter above-mentioned the long -winter of 1853-54, which was indeed less severe (relatively as well as -absolutely) in England than on the Continent. Still, he is hardly right -in saying, that after 1845 there was no winter of long and intense -character until January and February 1855. On the Continent the winter -of 1853-54 was not only protracted but severe, especially towards the -end of December. Several rivers were frozen over. The cold lasted from -March till November, with scarcely any intermission.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1854-55 was still more severe than its predecessor. The -frosts commenced in the east of France in October and lasted till the -28th of April. The mean temperatures for January and February, in -England, were 31 degrees and 29 degrees respectively. This year will -be remembered as that during which our army suffered so terribly from -cold in the Crimea. But our brave fellows would have resisted Generals -January and February (in whom the Czar Nicholas expressed such strong -reliance), as well as the Russians themselves did, or maybe a trifle -better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> (if we can judge from the way in which Englishmen have borne -Arctic winters), had it not been for the gross negligence of the Red -Tapists.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1857-58 was rather severer than the average, but not -much. The Danube and Russian ports in the Black Sea were frozen over in -January, 1858.</p> - -<p>The frost of December, 1860, and January, 1861, was remarkable. The -coldest recorded mean temperature for a month in time (not the coldest -month), was that for the thirty days ending January 16, 1861,—namely, -26 degrees. Mr. Plant remarks that 'the intense cold on Christmas-eve, -1860, finds no equal in his records, since January 20, 1838. The -thermometer registered 34 degrees of frost, and in the valley of the -Rea, five to seven degrees below zero. Strangely enough, Flammarion -makes no mention of this bitter winter in his list of exceptionally -cold winters.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1864-65 lasted from December to the end of March, all of -which four months, Mr. Plant notes, were of the true winter type. The -Seine was frozen over at Paris, and people crossed the ice near the -Pont des Arts.</p> - -<p>The winter of 1870-71 will always be remembered as that during -which the siege of Paris was carried on, and the last scenes of the -Franco-Prussian war took place. As Flammarion justly remarks, this -winter will be classed among severe winters, because of the extreme -cold in December and January (notwithstanding the mild weather of -February), and also because of the fatal influence which the cold -exercised upon the public health at the close of the war with Germany. -'The great equatorial current,' he proceeds (meaning, no doubt, the -winds which blow over the prolongation of the Gulf Stream), 'which -generally extends to Norway, stopped this year at Spain and Portugal, -the prevailing wind being from the north. On the 5th of December there -was a temperature of 5 degrees, and on the 8th, at Montpellier, the -thermometer stood at 17.6 degrees. A second period of cold set in on -the 22nd of December, lasting until the 5th of January. In Paris the -Seine was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> blocked with ice, and seemed likely to become frozen over. -On the 24th there were 21.6 degrees of frost, and at Montpellier, on -the 31st, 28.8 degrees. It is well known that many of the outposts -around Paris, and several of the wounded who had been lying for fifteen -hours upon the field, were found frozen to death. From the 9th to the -15th of January a third period of cold set in, the thermometer marking -17.6 degrees' (14.4 degrees of frost) 'at Paris, and 8.6 degrees at -Montpellier. The most curious fact was that the cold was greater -in the south than in the north of France. At Brussels the lowest -temperatures were 11.1 degree in December and 8.2 degrees in January. -There were forty days' frost at Montpellier, forty-two at Paris, and -forty-seven at Brussels during these two months. Finally, the winter -average (December, January, and February) was 35.2 degrees in Paris, -whereas the general average is 37.9 degrees.' In the north of Europe -this was also a very hard winter, though the cold set in at a different -time than that noted for France. There were forty degrees of frost at -Copenhagen on February 12—that is, the temperature was 5 degrees below -zero. By the documents which M. Renon furnished Flammarion with for -France, 'I discover,' says the latter, 'a minimum of 9.4 degrees below -zero at Périgueux, and of 13 degrees below zero at Moulins! I find by -the documents supplied me by Mr. Glaisher,' he proceeds, 'that he also -considers the winter of 1870-71 as appertaining to the class of winters -memorable for their severity.' Lastly, in the winter which as I write -(February 10, 1879) seems to be nearly over, we have had for December -a mean temperature of only 31 degrees in the midlands—the coldest -December known there, followed by a January so cold that the mean -temperature for the midlands was only 29.8 degrees. Mr. G.J. Symons, -the well-known meteorologist, says of the past winter, that January -was the coldest for at least twenty-one, and he believes for forty-one -years, following a December which was also, with one exception, the -coldest for twenty-one years.' He gives an abstract of the temperatures -(both maximum and minimum) for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> November, December, and January during -the last twenty-one years, from which it appears:—</p> - -<p>1. That the average <i>maximum</i> temperature of November was the lowest -during the period with two exceptions, that of December the lowest with -one exception, and that of January the lowest of the whole period.</p> - -<p>2. That the average <i>minimum</i> of November was the lowest during the -period with four exceptions, that of December the lowest with one -exception, and that of January the lowest.</p> - -<p>3. That the mean temperature of the three months was not only five -degrees below the average, but also lower than in any previous year out -of the twenty-one.</p> - -<p>On the whole, the winter of 1878-79 must be regarded as the coldest we -have had during at least the last score of years, and probably during -twice that time. It was not characterised by exceptionally severe short -periods of intense cold, like those which occurred during the winters -of 1854-55, 1855-56, and 1860-61; but it has been surpassed by few -winters during the last two centuries for constant low temperature and -long-continued moderate frost. During the last ninety years there have -been only four winters matching that of 1878-79 in these respects.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Since the preceding pages were written the weather record for February -1879 has been completed. Like the three preceding months, February -showed a mean temperature below the average, though the deficit was not -quite so great as in those months. The following table, drawn out by -Mr. Plant, shows the mean temperature at Moseley for four winter months -of 1878-79, and the average temperature for those months at Moseley -during the last twenty years:—</p> - -<table summary="temps" width="45%"> -<tr> -<td colspan="2">1878-79 -</td> -<td> -</td> -<td>Average of 20 years -</td> -<td> -</td> -<td> -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td> -</td> -<td align="right">Deg. -</td> -<td align="center">| -</td> -<td> -</td> -<td>Deg. -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>November -</td> -<td align="right">37.0 -</td> -<td align="center">| -</td> -<td>November -</td> -<td>41.5 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>December -</td> -<td align="right">31.0 -</td> -<td align="center">| -</td> -<td>December -</td> -<td>39.0 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>January -</td> -<td align="right">29.8 -</td> -<td align="center">| -</td> -<td>January -</td> -<td>35.5 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>February -</td> -<td align="right" >35.8 -</td> -<td align="center">| -</td> -<td>February -</td> -<td>39.0 -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td > -</td> -<td align="right">—— -</td> -<td >| -</td> -<td> -</td> -<td>—— -</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td>Mean of the four months in -</td> -<td align="right">33.4 -</td> -<td align="center">| -</td> -<td>Average of four months in 20 years observations -</td> -<td>38.8 -</td> -</tr> -</table> - - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="OXFORD_AND_CAMBRIDGE_ROWING" id="OXFORD_AND_CAMBRIDGE_ROWING"><i>OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE ROWING.</i></a></p> - - -<p>The records of the last eighteen boat-races between Cambridge and -Oxford indicate clearly enough the existence of a difference of style -in the rowing of the two universities, a circumstance quite as plainly -suggested by the five successive victories of Cambridge in the years -1870-74, as by the nine successive victories of Oxford which preceded -them. For it is, or should be, known that the victories of Cambridge -only began when Morrison, one of the finest Oxford oarsmen, had taught -the Cambridge men the Oxford style, so far as it could be imparted to -rowers accustomed, for the most part, in intercollegiate struggles, -to a different system. With regard to the long succession of Oxford -victories which began in 1861, and which, be it noticed, followed on -Cambridge successes obtained when the light-blue stroke rowed in the -Oxford style, I may remark that, viewing the matter as a question of -probabilities, it may safely be said that the nine successive victories -of Oxford could not reasonably be regarded as accidental. The loss of -three or four successive races would not have sufficed to show that -there was any assignable difference in the conditions under which the -rival universities encountered each other on the Thames. In cases -where the chance of one or other of two events happening is exactly -equal, there will repeatedly be observed recurrences of this sort. -But when the same event recurs so often as nine successive times, -it is justifiable to infer that the chances are <i>not</i> precisely—or -perhaps even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> nearly—equal. I believe I shall be able to indicate the -existence of a cause quite sufficient to account for the series of -defeats sustained in the years 1861-69 by Cambridge, and for the change -of fortune experienced when for a while the Cambridge oarsmen adopted -the style of rowing which has prevailed for many years at the sister -university.</p> - -<p>I may premise that Cambridge has an important advantage over Oxford -in the fact that she has a far larger number of men to choose from -in selecting a university crew. It may seem to many, at first sight, -that as good a crew might well be selected from three hundred as from -five hundred boating-men; because it is not to be supposed that either -number would supply many more than eight first-rate oarsmen. But it -must be remembered that there are first-rate oarsmen <i>and</i> first-rate -oarsmen. The unpractised eye may detect very little difference -between the best and the worst oarsmen in such crews as Oxford and -Cambridge yearly send to contend for the blue-riband of the river. -But differences exist; and if the best man of the crew were replaced -by one equal in rowing ability to the worst, or <i>vice versâ</i>, an -important difference would be observed in the time of rowing over the -racing course, under similar conditions of wind, tide, and so forth. -Accordingly, a large field for the selection of the men is a most -important advantage. Taking, for instance, the five hundred rowing men -of Cambridge and dividing them into two sets—one of three hundred men, -corresponding to the three hundred rowing men of Oxford, and the other -of two hundred men—we see that the first set ought to supply a crew -strong enough to meet Oxford, and the second a crew nearly as strong. -Now, if the best men of the two Cambridge crews thus supposed to be -formed are combined—say five taken from the first and three from the -second, all the inferior men being struck out—a far stronger crew than -either of the others would undoubtedly be formed.</p> - -<p>So that if Cambridge were generally the winner in these contests, the -Oxonians would be able to account for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> their want of success in a -sufficiently satisfactory manner. The successive defeats sustained by -the Cambridge crews in 1861-69 are therefore so much the less readily -explained as due to mere accident, by which of course I mean simply -such an accidental circumstance as that better oarsmen chanced to be at -Oxford than at Cambridge in these years, not to accident occurring in -the race itself.</p> - -<p>Several reasons were assigned from time to time for the repeated -victories of Oxford. Some of these may conveniently be examined here, -before discussing what I take to be the true explanation.</p> - -<p>Some writers in the papers advanced the general proposition that Oxford -men are as a rule stronger and more enduring than Cambridge men. -They did not tell us why this should be the case—to what peculiar -influences it was due that the more powerful and energetic of our -English youth should go to one university rather than the other. No -evidence of this peculiarity could be found in the university athletic -sports, in which success was, as it has since been, very equally -divided. And what made the theory the less satisfactory was the -circumstance that it afforded no explanation of the early triumphs of -the Cantabs, who won seven of the nine races they rowed against Oxford. -Of these races five were rowed from Westminster to Putney, a course -two miles longer than the present course from Putney to Mortlake. A -race over such a course and in the heavier old-fashioned racing-boats -was a sufficient test of strength and endurance; yet the Cambridge -men managed to win four out of these five events, and that not by a -few seconds, but in three instances by upwards of a minute. If there -were any reason for conceiving that Oxonians were as a rule stronger -than Cantabs in the years 1861-69, there is at least no reason for -conceiving that any change can have taken place in the time between the -earlier races and that during which Oxford won so persistently. And as -the earlier races show no traces of any difference such as was insisted -upon by many journalists in the latter part of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> the period of the -Oxford successes, we may reasonably conclude that the difference had no -real existence.</p> - -<p>Another theory resembling the preceding was also often urged. It was -said repeatedly in the papers that Cambridge traditions encouraged -a light flashy stroke, pretty to look at but not effective; that -again, Cambridge rowed the first part of the course well but -exhausted themselves before the conclusion of the race, through their -over-anxiety to get the advantage of their opponents in the beginning -of the contest. Critics undertook to say that the Oxford men 'rowed -within themselves' at first, reserving their strength for the last -mile or two of the course. Now, it will presently appear that there -does exist in a certain peculiarity of what may justly be called the -Cambridge style, a true cause for want of success, and even for such a -repeated series of defeats as the light-blue flag sustained in 1868-69. -But the Cambridge style rowed during these years was very far from -being a flashy style. On the contrary, the old Cambridge style, which -is still too often seen in College contests, and has within the last -four years been seen on the Thames, involves the rowing of a longer -stroke than <i>seems</i> to be rowed in the true Oxford style. Oxford -rowing is pre-eminently lively. Anyone who had been at the pains to -time the strokes of the Oxford and Cambridge crews during the years -1861-69, would have been able at once to dispose of the notion that -Cambridge men row the more rapid stroke. In these nine races, as in -the practice preceding them, the Oxford crew often took forty-four -strokes per minute. Especially did they rise to this swift stroke in -some of those grand spurts which so often carried the dark-blue flag -in front. I do not remember that the Cambridge crews ever went beyond -forty-two strokes per minute. Then again as to starting early and -being quickly spent, a good deal of nonsense was written. In some of -the later contests of the series 1861-69, indeed, the Cambridge crews, -urged by the thought of numerous past defeats, made unduly exhausting -efforts in the earlier part of the race.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> But nothing was done in this -way which would have caused the loss of the race if the Cambridge crew -had really had it in them to win. If the better of two crews puts on -rather too much steam at first, they draw so quickly ahead that they -soon begin to feel that they have the race in hand, and so proceed to -take matters more steadily. In such powerful and well-trained crews -as both universities usually send to the contest, very little harm is -done by varying the order of the work a little—rowing hard at first -and steadily afterwards, or <i>vice versâ</i>. It is easy for lookers-on, -most of whom have never taken part in a boat-race, to theorise on these -matters. But those who know what boat racing is (as distinguished, be -it noticed, from most contests of speed) know that the better boat is -almost sure to win in whatever way the stroke may set them their work. -A good crew, unlike a good horse, requires no jockeying.</p> - -<p>The difference of the rivers Cam and Isis has been urged as a -sufficient reason for inferiority on the part of the Cambridge crews. -That the difference used to tell unfavourably upon the chances of the -light blue flag before the river had been widened and the railway -bridge modified, and that even now the Cambridge crews would not be all -the better for a better river to practice on, cannot be denied. But I -question whether even before the widening of the river, this particular -cause sufficed to counterbalance the advantage of the Cantabs in point -of numbers. Nor do I think that those who urged the inferiority of the -Cambridge river have recognised the principal disadvantage which it -entailed upon the light-blue oarsmen.</p> - -<p>The first circumstance to be noticed, in this connection, is the -difference in the conditions under which racing-boats were and are -steered along the two rivers. A Cambridge coxswain has in some respects -an easier, in others a more difficult task than the Oxonian. In the -first place, he has very little choice as to the course along which -he shall take his boat. All he has to do is to steer as closely round -each corner as possible; and the narrowness of the river<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> renders -it difficult for him to fall into any error in running a straight -line from corner to corner. The Oxonian coxswain, on the other hand, -requires to be more carefully on the watch lest he should suffer his -boat to diverge from the just course, which is far less obvious on -the wider Isis than on the Cam. But although the Cambridge coxswain -has the shores of the river close to him on either hand, and can thus -never be at a loss as to his just course, yet to maintain this obvious -course he has to be continually moving the rudder-lines. In fact, -there are some 'eights' which steer so ill that it is no easy matter -to keep them from the shores when the crew are sending them along at -racing speed. In rounding the three great corners which have to be -passed in the ordinary racing-course at Cambridge—viz., First Post -Corner, Grassy Corner, and Ditton Corner—the rudder has to be made -use of in a much more decided manner than in the straighter course -along which the Oxford racing eights have to travel. I have seen the -water bubbling over the rudder of a racing eight, as she rounded Grassy -Corner, in a manner which showed clearly enough how her 'way' must have -been checked; yet, probably, if the rudder-lines had been relaxed for -a moment, the ill-steering craft would have gone irretrievably out of -her course, and been presently stranded on the farther bank. And even -eights which steer well had to be very carefully handled along the -narrow and winding ditch which we Cantabs used to call 'the river.'</p> - -<p>A more serious disadvantage, so far as the prospects of University -Boats were concerned, lay in the circumstance that there was no part -of the Cam (within easy reach, at least, of Cambridge) along which the -crew could row without a break, for four or five miles, as they had to -do in the actual encounter with the Oxford boat. The whole range of the -river between the locks next below Cambridge and Bait's Bite Locks, is -somewhat under four miles and a half. But about a mile and a quarter -from Bait's Bite sluice, the railway-bridge crosses the river, and -until a few years ago, the supports of this bridge divided the river -into three parts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> There was in my time a vague tradition that the -University Eight had once or twice been steered through the widest of -these passages without stopping; but I doubt much whether there could -have been any truth in the story. Certainly no coxswain in my time at -Cambridge ever achieved the feat, nor could it be safely attempted even -by the most skilful steersman. The consequence was that there was a -break in the long course which took away all its value as a preparation -for the actual race. It may seem to the uninitiated a trifling matter -that a crew should get a few seconds of rest in so long a pull. But -those who know what racing is, are aware that the slightest break—one -stroke even, shirked—is an immense relief to the tugging oarsman.</p> - -<p>Beyond Bait's Bite Locks there is a three-and-a-half-miles course, -liable to be broken by the manœuvres of a floating bridge or -ferry boat opposite Clayhithe. Next comes another short course -extending to Upware. And lastly from Upware to Ely there is a fine -five-and-a-half-miles course, considerably wider than the Cam, and -presenting several splendid reaches. To this course the Cambridge men -used to betake themselves four or five times in the course of their -preparation for the great race. But a course so far removed from the -university itself was clearly far less advantageous than the convenient -Oxford long course, extending from the ferry at Christ Church meadows -to Newnham. Still, annoying as the want of a convenient long-course -must be considered, I cannot attribute the long succession of Cambridge -defeats in 1861-69 to such a cause as this. It is true that before the -railway-bridge was built, the Cambridge crew used generally to win, and -that since it has been so far modified as not to interfere with the -passage of a racing eight, they have again been successful, whereas, -while the supports of the bridge checked them midway on their course, -they were less fortunate. But to connect these circumstances as cause -and effect, would be as unsafe as the theory of the Margate fishermen -who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> ascribed the Goodwin Sands to the building of the Reculvers.</p> - -<p>It has been said that the shallowness of the Cam affects the style of -Cambridge oarsmen. This seems to me a fanciful theory. Occasionally in -the course of a race close steering round one or other of the sharper -corners might permit the oarsmen to 'feel the bottom,' for two or -three strokes; but during all the rest of the course the oars find -plenty of water to take good hold of. The Cam was undoubtedly growing -shallower for some time after 1860; and the change gave some degree of -support to the theory that the peculiarities of the Cambridge style -were due to the peculiarities of the Cambridge river. But I believe -the notion was a wholly mistaken one; and I am confirmed in this -belief by noticing that the Cambridge style from 1860 to 1869 was in -all essential respects, and especially in that feature which I shall -presently describe as its radical and fatal defect, the same precisely -as it had been in earlier times when Cambridge was oftener successful -than defeated.</p> - -<p>I have heard Cambridge men say, indeed, that after rowing on the Cam -they feel quite strange on Thames water. They feel, they say, as if -the boat were running away with them. I have experienced the feeling -myself, when rowing on the Thames anywhere below Teddington; but most -markedly below Kew. It is not due, however, to the mere difference -in the depth of the two streams, but mainly, if not wholly, to the -circumstance that the lower part of the Thames is a tidal river. It is -not noticeable above Teddington, save (in a somewhat modified form) in -those portions of the river called 'races,' where the stream runs with -unusual rapidity. I should suppose that Oxonians felt the influence of -this peculiarity fully as much as Cambridge oarsmen do; in fact, I know -that this is the experience of some Oxonians, for they have told me as -much.</p> - -<p>I believe that the principal disadvantage which the narrowness of the -Cam entailed upon boating-men at Cambridge, lay in the circumstance -that Cambridge men never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> had an opportunity of rowing a level race. -They had 'bumping races' for the college eights—as the Oxonians -had—and time-races to decide between the merits of two or three boats, -whereas at Oxford two boats could contend side by side. Thus it was -to many Cambridge men a novel and somewhat disturbing experience to -find themselves rowing close alongside of their opponents. It may seem -fanciful to notice any disadvantage in such a matter as this; yet I -believe that the matter was not a trifle. The excitement which men -feel just before a race begins, and during the first half-mile or so -of its progress, is so intense that a small difference of this sort is -apt to produce much more effect than might be expected. I think the -somewhat flurried style in which the Cantabs were often observed to row -the first half-mile of the great race might be partly ascribed to this -cause. Of course, I am far from saying that if a Cambridge crew had -been decidedly better than their opponents, the race could have been -lost or even endangered from such a cause as this.</p> - -<p>And now it remains that I should point out that peculiarity in what -may be called the Cambridge style of rowing—though it is not now -systematically adopted by Cambridge crews—to which the defeats of -the light-blue flag in the years 1861-69 were I believe to be chiefly -attributed.</p> - -<p>It should be remembered that before we can recognise a peculiarity -of style as the cause of a long series of defeats, it must be shown -that the peculiarity is neither trifling nor accidental. There are -peculiarities in rowing which have a very slight effect upon the speed -with which the boat is propelled by the crew. Amongst these may be -fairly included such points as the following:—the habit of throwing -out the elbows just before feathering, feathering high or low, rowing -short or long (a technical expression now commonly, though incorrectly, -applied to the length of the stroke, but properly relating to the -distance at which the stretcher or foot-board is placed from the seat), -sitting high<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> or low, and so on. All these peculiarities—of course -within reasonable limits—are unimportant, save in so far as they -indicate that the style of the stroke itself is faulty. Then again -there are accidental peculiarities, which may be exceedingly important -in themselves, but which yet produce only a transient influence, -because they are personal peculiarities of such and such a stroke, and -when he has left his university they remain no longer in vogue. As an -illustration of this sort of peculiarity, I may notice the remarkably -effective stroke rowed by Hall of Magdalen in the year 1858-60. There -the radical defect of the Cambridge style was almost obliterated, and -all the good points of that style were fully brought out. The result -was that, out of three races rowed with Oxford, Cambridge won two, and -though they lost the third, yet they lost it in such a manner as to -obtain more credit than any winning race could have brought them. I -refer to the memorable race of 1859, in which the Cambridge boat was, -at starting, half full of water, and gradually filling as the race -proceeded, sank about half-a-mile from the winning-post, being at the -moment of sinking only four lengths behind Oxford, notwithstanding -the tremendous difficulties under which the crew had all along been -rowing.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> Mr. Hall also rowed stroke in the great race with the -famous London crew—Casamajor, Playford, the two Paynes, &c.—when -Cambridge won by half a boat's length. We have, however, to inquire -whether there is any point held to be essential by Cambridge oarsmen, -which is sufficiently important and sufficiently faulty to account for -the marked want of success which attended the light-blue flag in the -years 1861-69. The following peculiarity appears to me to be precisely -of such a character.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was formerly held by nearly all the Cambridge oarsmen that 'the -instant the oar touches the water' (I am quoting from a pamphlet called -'Principles of Rowing,' much read by rowing-men at Cambridge) 'the arms -and body should begin to fall backwards, the former continuing at their -full stretch till the back is perpendicular; they are then bent, the -elbows being brought close past the sides,' etc. If a Cambridge oarsman -broke this rule, so that his arms began to bend before his back was -upright, he would be told that he was jerking. 'This is caused,' says -our authority, 'by pulling the first part of the stroke with violence -and not falling gradually backwards to finish it. The most muscular men -are more than others guilty of it, because they trust too much to their -arms, instead of making each part of the body do its proportionate -quantity of work. It is most annoying to the rest of the crew, injures -the uniform swing throughout the boat, and soon tires out the man -himself, however strong he may be, because he is virtually rowing -unsupported, and he has nearly the whole weight of the boat on his arms -alone.'</p> - -<p>I was myself trained to row the Cambridge style, and when I became -captain of a boat-club, I was careful to inculcate this style -on my crew, and on other crews which came more or less directly -under my supervision. But I am convinced that the peculiarity so -carefully enjoined in past time by the Cambridge club-captains, and -still retained, is altogether erroneous for boats of the modern -build. I first became aware that the Cambridge style is not the -water-man's—and, therefore, presumably not the most effective—through -practising in a racing-four with three of our most noted Thames -watermen—the two Mackinnys, and Chitty of Richmond. They were then -preparing for the Thames National Regatta, though not as a set crew. -Accordingly the coxswain would frequently call upon us for a good -lifting spurt of a quarter of a mile or so. During these spurts the -coxswain was continually telling me that I was not keeping stroke, -and I was sensible myself that something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> was going wrong. One who -has taken part in boat-races very soon detects any irregularity in -the rowing—by which I do not of course refer to so gross a defect as -not keeping time. All the men of a crew may be keeping most perfect -time, and may even present the appearance of keeping stroke together, -and yet may not be feeling their work simultaneously. I was aware -that something was going wrong, but I found it impossible, without -abandoning the style of rowing in which I had been so carefully -trained, to keep stroke with the rest of the crew. It seemed to me that -they were doubling over their work, because while I was still swaying -backwards they had reached the limit of their swing. Then they did not -seem to me to feather with that lightning flash which the Cambridge -style enjoins. Altogether, I left them after three or four long pulls -with the impression that, though they might be very effective watermen, -they had but a poor style.</p> - -<p>Soon after, however, I had occasion to watch Oxford oarsmen at their -work, and I found that they row in a style which, without being -actually identical with that of the London waterman, resembles it in -all essential respects. The moment the oar catches the water, the body -is thrown back as in the Cambridge style, but the arms, instead of -being kept straight, immediately begin to do their share of the work. -The result is that when the body is upright the arms are already bent, -and the stroke is finished when the body is very little beyond the -perpendicular position.</p> - -<p>Now let us compare the two strokes theoretically. In each stroke the -body does a share of the work, and in the Cambridge stroke the body -even seems to do more work than in the Oxford stroke, since it is -swayed farther back. In each stroke, again, the arms do a share of the -work, but in the Oxford stroke the work of the arms is distributed -equally as a help to that of the body, whereas in the Cambridge stroke -the work of the arms is all thrown upon the finish of the stroke. At -first sight it seems to matter very little in what order the work is -done, so long as the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> amount of work is done in the same space of -time. But here an important consideration has to be attended to.</p> - -<p>There are two things which the oarsman does in whatever style he rows. -He propels the boat along, by pressing the blade of his oar against the -water as a fulcrum; but he also propels his oar more or less through -the water. If instead of the actual state of things, the boat were to -slide along an oiled groove in some solid substance, whose surface was -so ridged that the oar could bear upon the ridges without any flexure, -then indeed it would matter very little in what way the oar was pulled, -so long as it was pulled through a good range in a short space of time. -But the actual state of things being different, we have to inquire -whether it is not possible that one style of rowing may serve more than -another to make the slip of the oar through the water (a dead loss, be -it remarked, so far as the propulsion of the boat is concerned) bear -too large a proportion to the actual work done by the rower.</p> - -<p>Let us make a simple illustration. Suppose a person standing on the -edge of a sheet of water seeks to propel across the sheet a heavy -log lying near the bank. If he gives the log a violent kick, it will -scarcely move at all through the water, but after a few vibrations -will be seen to lie a few inches from its former position. The force -expended has not been thrown away, however, but has resulted in a -violent shock to the kicker. But if instead of kicking the log the -person apply the same amount of force gently at first and then with -gradually increasing intensity, the log will receive a much more -effective impetus, and its motion will continue long after the force -has ceased to be exerted. The same amount of force which before -produced a motion of a few inches will now project the log several -yards.</p> - -<p>And now to apply this illustration. If the object of the rower were to -move his oar through the water—the boat being supposed for the moment -to be a fixture—he could not do better than to adopt the Cambridge -style of pulling. For this style gives a steady pressure on the oar -at the be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>ginning of the stroke, followed by a gradual increase, and -ending by a sharp lift through the water. On the contrary, the Oxford -style, in which arms and body apply all their strength at once to the -oar, would probably, as in the case of our imaginary <i>fixed boats</i>, -result in the fracture of the oar. If the boat were not fixed, but very -heavy and clumsy, conclusions very different from the above would be -arrived at. The Oxford style would be unsuitable to the propulsion of -a heavy boat, because, although the oar would have very little slip -through the water, yet the boat itself could not be moved in so sudden -a manner as to make the applied force available. On the other hand, -the Cambridge style would be very suitable; because, although there -would be considerable 'slip' this would in any case be inevitable, and -the force would be applied to the boat (as well as to the oar) in the -gradual increasing manner best suited to produce motion through the -water. Hence we can understand the long series of victories gained by -the light-blue oarsmen in the 'old fashioned racing eights'. But when -we come to consider the case of a boat like the present wager-boat—a -boat which answers immediately to the slightest propelling force—we -see that that mode of rowing must be the most effective which permits -the oar to have the least possible motion <i>through</i> the water, which -lifts the boat along from the water <i>as from an almost stable fulcrum</i>. -Hence it is that that sharp grip of the water which is taken by London -watermen, and by rowers at Oxford, Eton, Radley, and Westminster, is so -much more effective than the heavy drag followed by a rapid and almost -jerking finish which marks the Cambridge style.</p> - -<p>The mention of public-school rowing leads me to urge another -consideration. There are public-school oarsmen at Cambridge, and -they hold, as might be supposed, a high position amongst university -rowing-men. In general they form so small a minority of college -racing-men, that they have to give up their own workmanlike style, and -adopt the style of those they row with. But there is one club—the -Third Trinity Club—which consists exclusively<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> of Eton and Westminster -men, and although it is a small club, it has been repeatedly at the -head of the river, holding its own successfully against clubs which -have sent in far heavier and better-trained crews. But even more -remarkable is the fact that powerful college crews were sent from -Cambridge to Henley between the years <i>1860-69 which have actually -been unable to maintain their own against Eton lads</i>! This of itself -suffices to show that there was something radically wrong in the style -then prevalent at Cambridge; for in such races age, weight, strength, -and length of practice were all in favour of the Cambridge crews.</p> - -<p>When I first expressed these views about the Oxford and Cambridge -style in the 'Daily News' in April 1869, several Oxford and Cambridge -men denied that the difference between the two styles was that which -I have indicated, asserting that neither Oxford nor Cambridge oarsmen -advocated working with the arms in the beginning of the stroke. It was -so great a novelty to myself to learn, in 1858, that London watermen -row in the manner I have described, and I found the very watermen who -rowed in that way so confidently denying that they did so, that I was -not greatly surprised to find many University men, and not a few of -the first University oarsmen, persisting that the rules laid down in -'Principles of Rowing' before the modern racing-boats were used are -still valid and are still followed at Oxford as well as Cambridge. It -was denounced as a special heresy to teach that work should be done by -the arms at the beginning of the stroke, instead of the old rule being -followed according to which the arms were to remain straight till the -body was upright in the backward swing, the work being done entirely -by the body and legs up to that moment, and then finished by the arms. -But before I ventured to enunciate a theory on the subject I had been -careful to apply a number of tests not only while watching Oxford and -Cambridge eights, but in actual practice. I had inquired diligently -also of those who are not merely able to adopt a good rowing style but -to analyse it, so as to learn precisely where and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> how they do their -work. In some cases, I found first-rate oarsmen had given very little -thought to the matter; but on the question being put to them, they -quickly recognised the essential principles on which the most effective -and the least tiring style for the modern racing-boat depends. One -such oarsman said to me, after giving a few days' trial as well as -thought to the matter—'You are quite right; arms, legs, and body must -work together from the very beginning'; the work is done when the body -comes upright; and not only must this be so for the work to be done in -the most effective way, but it is essential also if the hands are to -be quickly disengaged, the recovery quick, and a good reach forward -obtained.</p> - -<p>I found, however, that the essential distinction between a good style -in the modern racing eight, and a good style in the old-fashioned -boats, had been recognised (at least, so far as the modern boats are -concerned) a year before my article in the 'Daily News' appeared. In an -article on 'Water Derbies,' 'Wat Bradwood,' describing the University -race of 1868, draws the following distinctions between the two crews, -which precisely accord with my own observations on that occasion; only -it is to be noticed that, whereas he is describing the beginning of -the race, the whole of which he witnessed from the Umpire's boat, my -observations were made from the shore not far from the finish, when -Oxford was so far ahead that there was ample time to note separately -and closely the style of each boat:—'The styles of progress of the -two boats themselves are palpably distinct,' he says; 'Cambridge -take a shorter time to come through the air than to row through the -water; they go much farther backward than Oxford, and are very slow -in getting the hands off the chest; their boat is drawn through the -water at each stroke, but has hardly any perceptible "lift." Oxford, -on the other hand, swing just the reverse of Cambridge, a long time in -getting forward' (he means of course, a <i>relatively longer</i> time, for -no good oarsman would ever take a long time in getting forward), 'and -very fast through<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> the water, driving the oars through with a hit like -sledgehammers, while the boat jumps out of the water several inches -at each stroke.' These last words again relate rather to contrast -between the boats than to the actual lift. The 'drag at the end' in -the Cambridge style used always to dip the nose of the eight, whereas -the quick disengagement of the hands in the Oxford style prevents any -dipping, so that by contrast the Oxford boat seen beside the Cambridge -seemed lifted at the end of each stroke. In reality there was very -little if any lifting, though the sharp grip of the water at the -beginning of the stroke caused the boat to dip a little as compared -with her position at the end. Theoretically, the less change of level -throughout the stroke (from feather to finish) the better; but if there -is any such change, it is far better it should be of the nature of a -lift above the flotation-level than of the nature of a dip below that -level.</p> - -<p>Again, towards the close of the same article 'Wat Bradwood' made the -following pertinent remarks respecting the Oxford style in 1868 and -generally: 'The general style of Oxford has not deteriorated; though -many outsiders fancied that Oxford rowed a short stroke, it was more -that the time occupied by them in slashing the oar through the water -was short than the reach itself; this deceived inexperienced eyes, -especially when compared to the slow 'draw through' (query 'drag') of -Cambridge, which often appeared for similar reasons a longer stroke -than it really was.<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> He at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>tributed the defeat of the Cantabs, who -were a stronger set of men than the Oxonians, to the teaching of their -'coach,' who had been (though this he does not mention) as good a -'coach' as ever existed for rowing in the old fashioned style of boats, -but whose 'experience availed nothing to teach the modern style of -light-boat rowing.'</p> - -<p>In another article by the same writer, in the 'Pall Mall Gazette,' -(1868), a noteworthy illustration is given of the value of a good -style. 'Among the college boats in the first division at Cambridge this -year, the strongest were perhaps First Trinity, Trinity Flail, and -notably Emmanuel; the weakest in the division was the Lady Margaret -crew,'—the crew representing St. John's College. 'But notwithstanding -this, Lady Margaret went up one place, and pressed Trinity very hotly. -There must, of course, be some special reason to account for eight -weak men proving superior to eight strong ones.' There is a little -(unintentional) exaggeration here; the stroke of the Lady Margaret -crew was a strong as well as an elegant oarsman, and two others of the -crew could certainly not be called weak; nevertheless the crew as a -whole was undoubtedly weak compared with most of the other crews of the -first division, 'That reason,' proceeds our author, 'is to be found -in <i>style</i>. Every day of practice on the Cam you hear the "coaches" -of the different racing-boats giving their crews certain directions, -some absurd, and nearly all, from some accidental reason, useless. The -chief of these is to "keep it long," and if you object to the results -of this teaching, you are told that "length" is the great requisite of -good rowing, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> that "Oxford, sir, always beat us, because they are -longer than we are." Now, this is true and yet untrue. At Cambridge -"length" is acquired by making the men "finish the stroke," that is, by -making them "swing well back" beyond the perpendicular. Of course the -oar remains longer in the water, but we maintain that the extra time -it is kept there by the backward motion of the body is time lost. The -"swinging back" throws a tremendous strain on the abdominal muscles, -the weakest rowing muscles in the body; very soon the men feel this -strain, become exhausted, and unable to "get forward," and finally -lose time and swing and "go all to pieces." Length obtained by going -backwards is of no possible use. A crew ought to be "coached" to get -as far <i>forward</i> as they can, to finish the stroke by bringing their -elbows past their sides, and their hands well into their bodies, -and then complaints about "wind" and "last" will be fewer. This was -abundantly proved in the late May races. First Trinity, it is true, -kept "head," but only because of their great strength, and because they -had a stroke who understood the duties of his position. Before, the -races every sporting newspaper, every supposed judge of rowing in the -University, was certain about only one thing, and that was that Lady -Margaret must go down; the only question was where they would stop. -They, however, not only kept away from Trinity Hall, but finished above -Emmanuel and Third Trinity, infinitely stronger' (which no doubt must -be understood as meaning 'far stronger') 'boats. The reason was that -they were the only boat on the river which rowed in anything like a -good style. They had the reach forward, the quick recovery, and the -equally quick disengagement of the hands, which marked the Oxford crew -of 1868. Consequently although a very weak lot of men, they were able -to vindicate style against strength. We hope' (added Wat Bradwood) -'that Cambridge generally will appreciate the lesson; it is one that -has not been taught them for years, and results on their own river -ought to show its value.' Less than a year after this was written,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> -the Cambridge boat, with Goldie, the Lady Margaret stroke, at the -aft thwart, were just beaten by Oxford in one of the best races ever -rowed, and the year after, with the same stroke, they won for the first -time in ten years. The subsequent successes of the Jesus boat on the -Cam afforded further illustrations of the superiority of style over -strength. For the Jesus boat has remained for years at the head of -the river, though the crew as a whole has often been far surpassed in -strength by the crews of Trinity, John's, and other colleges.</p> - -<p>There is, as the writer from whom I have quoted above correctly says, -'no opposition between theory and practice in this matter, any more -than there is in metaphysics or moral philosophy.' The ill-success of -Cambridge in past years was in the main due to a want of appreciation -of theory, and the absence of due recognition of the entire change -which the introduction of the light outrigged racing-boat had produced -in the art of effective rowing. The Cambridge 'finish to the stroke,' -the 'lug at the end,' as sailors call it, was excellent with the old -fashioned boats. It was indeed essential to success in a race, as was -the lightning feather. But now the essential conditions are a sharp -grasp of the water at the beginning of the stroke, the intensest -possible action then and throughout the time the oar is in the water, -so that the oar may be as short a time as possible in the water, but -<i>in the time</i> may have the largest possible range. This result must -not merely be obtained from each individual member of the crew, but -from all together in precisely the same time. It is necessary that -the stroke should mark the time in the most distinct and emphatic -manner. In the Cambridge style, or what at least used so to be called, -perfect time, though of course always desirable, was not so absolutely -essential as in the Oxford style. The oars being a long time in the -water, it mattered less if any oarsman was for a small fraction of a -second behind or in advance of his fellows. But with the sharp dash -upon the water and the quick tear through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> water of the better -style, perfect simultaneity is all-important. The stroke must not only -have first a good style himself, and secondly a keen sense of time, but -he must have that power of making his crew know and feel what he is -doing, and what he wants them to do, which constitutes the essential -distinction between the merely steady stroke and such a stroke as every -man of the crew feels to be made for the place. When one of these 'born -strokes' occupies the aft thwart, there is no occasion for the coxswain -to tell the crew when to quicken or when to row steadily at their -hardest; for the whole crew knows and feels the purpose of the stroke -as distinctly as he knows and feels it himself.</p> - -<p><i>The following paragraph, written a few days before the race (1879) is -left unaltered. I may note that Marriott, the successful Oxford stroke -of 1878, so far succeeded in improving the style of the Oxford boat -when he took the aft thwart in '79 (far too late by the way), that -Cambridge did not win by anything like the expected distance.</i></p> - -<p>[Since the above was written I have seen both the crews for the present -year's race at work. It is too early to venture a prediction as to the -result of the race, though the odds offered on Cambridge would seem to -imply that nothing short of an accident can save Oxford from a crushing -defeat. It is manifest that Cambridge has the stronger crew, and the -style of the Oxford crew at present is not such as to indicate that -this year the Oxford style will defeat superior strength. In fact, at -present, Oxford shows defects which have been wont to characterise -Cambridge crews, and which unmistakably do characterise the present -Cambridge crew, fine though it undoubtedly is. But if, as has before -now happened, the Oxford crew fall into the true Oxford style during -the fortnight before the race, the odds will not be 2 to 1 as at -present, nor even 3 to 2, on Cambridge.]</p> - - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> 'Wat Bradwood,' in an article on 'Water Derbies,' -afterwards referred to, says that Cambridge was fairly beaten when the -boat sank. He might with equal justice have said that they were fairly -beaten when they started. They never had a chance of winning from the -start, having then half a boat-full, and for some time before they sank -a whole boat-full, of water to take along with them.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> This agrees closely with my own description written -later, but independently, and flatly contradicted by more than one -Oxford oarsman at the time: 'In the case of Oxford,' I said, after -describing the lightning feather following the long sweeping stroke -of Cambridge, 'we observe a style which at first sight seems less -excellent. As soon as the oars are dashed down and catch their first -hold of the water, the arms as well as the shoulders of each oarsman -are at work. The result is that when the back has reached an upright -position the hands have already reached the chest, and the stroke is -finished. Thus the Oxford stroke takes a perceptibly shorter time than -the Cambridge stroke; it is also necessarily somewhat shorter in the -water. One would therefore say it must be less effective. Especially -would an unpractised observer form this opinion, because the Oxford -stroke seems to be much shorter in range than it is in reality. There -we have the secret of its efficiency. It is actually as long as the -Cambridge stroke, but is taken in a perceptibly shorter time. What -does this mean but that the oar is taken more sharply, and therefore -much more effectively, through the water? Much more effectively, -I proceeded, 'so far as the actual conditions of the contest are -concerned,' going on to consider the difference between the modern and -the old fashioned racing boats.—<i>Light Science for Leisure Hours</i>: -Essay on Oxford and Cambridge Rowing Styles.</p></div></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> - -<p class="ph2"><a name="ROWING_STYLES" id="ROWING_STYLES"><i>ROWING STYLES.</i></a></p> - - -<p>Professor Marcy has recently discussed, in a lecture on Living -Locomotors (<i>Moteurs Animés</i>), the principles of propulsion. Had he -been an Englishman he would probably have found some of his most -striking illustrations among different cases of propulsion through -water. But, although he limited his discussion of animated motors to -those which work on land, he yet laid down the fundamental principle -of all propulsion, which is that as little as possible—and therefore, -if possible, none at all—of the energy employed to produce propulsion -should be expended in injurious work. Even with the best carriages, he -pointed out, there remain vibrations and shocks which must be attacked -and destroyed to render the conditions of traction more perfect; they -are veritable shocks, which use up part of the work of the horse in -giving only hurtful effects, bruising the animal's breast, injuring -his muscles, and, in spite of the padding of the collar, sometimes -wounding him. Then he showed a simple experiment suggested by the able -dynamician, Poncelet. To a weight of five kilos, (about 11lb.) a string -is attached by which the weight can be lifted, but not much more. Then -the experimenter tries to lift the weight rapidly with the string, -which breaks without moving the weight, while the fingers are more or -less hurt by the sudden shock. If now, a cord of equal strength, but -slightly elastic, is substituted, the experiment ends differently. The -sudden effort of elevation is transformed into a more prolonged action, -and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> the weight is raised without bruising the fingers or breaking the -cord. Yet a still more sudden movement would break the cord in this -case, though a yet more extensible cord would resist even a yet more -sudden jerk. According to the strength of the cord, its extensibility, -and the weight to be lifted, must be the nature of the upward pull in -order that the greatest possible velocity may be communicated without -injury to the cord or to the lifter's hand. This simple series of -experiments involves the essential principles of effective propulsion, -where, at least, great velocity is among the results to be attained.</p> - -<p>Although, perhaps, at present, the public are disposed to consider the -University race from a sporting rather than from a scientific point of -view, yet it has long been admitted, even by the most ardent lovers -of rowing as a sport, that it has its scientific side. In a pamphlet -on the 'Principles of Rowing,' by 'Oarsmen,' written somewhere about -the year 1847,—it bears no date, but speaks of rowing as having first -appeared as a public amusement 11 years ago, and the first University -race on the Thames was rowed in 1836,—the writers urge that rowing -surely deserves to be called a scientific pursuit, and proceed to trace -out the 'main principles in virtue of which it claims a scientific -character.' These principles, which were generally considered sound -when they were originally enunciated, though even then they were -beginning to be to some degree questionable, have been quoted over and -over again since, or, if not verbally quoted, have been, in effect, -adopted by writers on rowing. The justice of some of them has caused -the entire set to be received without question, even by oarsmen who -in practice depart from several of them in a very marked degree. The -assumption has been that there is but one good rowing style, and that, -therefore, a style adopted and proved by practice to be the best in -the years 1836-1846 should be adopted as the best now. 'There is but -one style,' says one authority, 'and one alone,' he adds with some -redundancy. Now, in so far as river racing is almost always carried -on in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> boats of the same kind for each class—eight oars, four oars, -pairs, and sculls—it is in a sense true that there is but one racing -style. But even in river rowing, as distinguished from river racing, -there are more styles than one,—by which we mean more correct styles, -for, of course, there are multitudinous bad styles in every kind of -rowing. The style suitable for a racing boat moving at full speed -would not be suitable even for the same boat at starting, and would -be utterly unsuitable for a pleasure boat. We may remark, in passing, -that, however suitable tubbing practice may be several weeks before a -race, it is open to objection after a crew has settled into its racing -stroke. No one who understands rowing will assert that even the two -strongest members of either University crew <i>can</i> row in the same style -in tub practice as in their eight at her full speed, or, seeing them, -will fail to perceive that they row entirely different strokes in the -tub and in the eight. Again, the style of rowing proved by practical -experience to be best in seaside racing is entirely different from the -style successful in river racing. Yet another style is essential to -success in races rowed in the heavier boats used by men-of-war's men. -And it will be admitted, we think, though no experiments have yet, -to our knowledge, been made in this direction, that if matches were -arranged among our best bargemen and lightermen we should see a mode -of pulling which would differ as markedly from the man-of-war's man's -strokes as that does from the stroke which O'Leary, of Folkestone, -rows, and this in turn from the style of the best London or University -oarsmen. So far as these last two styles are concerned, it should be -remembered that they have been put to the test in the most decisive -manner. The best London oarsmen have been repeatedly defeated in -seaside rowing (even in still weather), and the best seaside oarsmen -have been beaten in river rowing. It would be absurd to attribute this -to awkwardness in unfamiliar boats, for any good oarsman can very -soon row without awkwardness in any kind of boat. It was the style -which made the difference—the style only. On<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> <i>à priori</i> grounds, -then, we should expect to find the question whether the style approved -by 'Oarsmen' 30 years ago should be, as it is, the style constantly -recommended now-a-days depending simply on the question whether the -racing boat of our time is similar, so far as the requirements of -propulsion are concerned, to the old-fashioned racing boats, however -different in appearance the two kinds of boat may be. To assert this, -however, would be almost equivalent to asserting that there has been -no real improvement in the qualities of racing boats—nay, when one -considers the great advantages possessed, in some respects, by the old -fashioned boats and their much superior durability, we should have -to acknowledge that racing boats had deteriorated. No one will for a -moment assert this. We know that the racing boat of our time is not -only much lighter, but travels with much less resistance through the -water, maintains its velocity far better between the strokes, and can -be made with equal effort to go at least one-fifth faster than the old -fashioned racing boat. The antecedent probability is, then, that the -modern racing boat requires a mode of propulsion unlike that which was -approved in 1840 or thereabouts—requires, in fact, a style which in -those days would have been justly regarded as radically bad.</p> - -<p>There is direct evidence from the results of many years of racing to -show that this difference really exists, as might be expected, though -the evidence may probably be questioned by those who maintain that -there is but one good rowing style. It is well known that the style -approved by 'Oarsmen' in the work above mentioned was first definitely -inculcated by Cambridge oarsmen. There is internal evidence in the -pamphlet itself (as where the miseries of the Lent races at Cambridge -are described) to show that some, and, therefore, probably all, who -took part in preparing the work were Cambridge men. Again, it is well -known that certainly until 1868, and perhaps later, the University crew -at Cambridge was 'coached' by an 'ancient mariner,' who, if not one -of the 'Oarsmen' and, as was generally reported, the actual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> writer -of the 'Principles of Rowing,' was unquestionably imbued with the old -fashioned doctrines. Now, of the six races rowed on the Thames in -the old fashioned racing boats, Cambridge won no less than five. The -Oxford crews, who rowed in a style more nearly resembling that now -rowed by the most successful crews (though scarcely ever inculcated -in verbal instructions), were not only beaten in every race save one, -but in three cases were beaten out of all reason. Half a minute was -the amount by which Cambridge won in 1845; but in 1836 (certainly -over a longer course) they won by one minute, in 1841 by one minute -and a quarter, and in 1839 by nearly two minutes. No wonder that when -outrigged boats came in Cambridge oarsmen were loth to modify a style -which had gained them so many and such striking successes. Nor did it -greatly matter, when this happened in 1846, whether the style of rowing -was modified or not. The first specimens of outrigged racing boats -occupied a sort of half-way position between the old-fashioned inrigged -craft and the exceedingly light, keelless boats now used. Thus, during -the seven races rowed in the earlier form of outrigged boats, success -was pretty equally divided between Oxford and Cambridge. In one race -Oxford won on a foul; of the other six Cambridge won three, and Oxford -also won three. But since the present form of racing boat was adopted -(in 1857) Oxford has been almost as successful as Cambridge had been -in the first nine or ten races. In 1857 Oxford won easily; in 1858 -Cambridge won, but the stroke of the Oxford boat could use but half -his strength, the forward or working thole of his rowlocks having been -bent outwards by a wave which caught his oar before the race began. -(The outriggers and rowlocks were shown to me at Searle's boat-house -a few days after the race, and there could be no question that the -chances of the Oxford boat must have been seriously impaired by the -accident.) In 1859 Cambridge sank, and, though she was four lengths -behind when this happened, there can be little doubt she would have -won but for the original cause of the disaster—a wave which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> half -filled the Cambridge boat as she was turning to take her place at the -starting-point. In 1860 Cambridge won by one length only. Then, as -everyone remembers, there followed nine successive Oxford victories, -some of which were of the most hollow kind. Cambridge then gave up the -style to which she had so long been faithful. One of the ablest of -the Oxford oarsmen, who was, however, connected in some degree with -Cambridge, trained and coached the Cambridge crew of 1870, the stroke -of which, it should be mentioned, was proficient in the correct style -before he went to Cambridge. That year and for the four next years -Cambridge won, though never in the hollow fashion in which Oxford had -won the victories of 1861, 1862, 1863, 1864, and 1868. The lead of -Oxford at the finish of these five races averaged over nine lengths, -while the lead of Cambridge in the five races of 1870-74 averaged -little over two lengths. In 1875 Oxford won by ten lengths, Cambridge -in 1876 by five. In 1877 occurred the celebrated dead heat; but before -bow's oar broke Oxford had won 'bar accidents.' In 1878 Oxford won, -and again by ten lengths. Of the 25 races actually rowed to a finish -(excluding the dead heat) since outriggers were introduced, Oxford has -won 14, Cambridge 11; of the 19 so rowed out since the true modern -racing boat was used, Oxford has won 11 and Cambridge 8. The difference -is sufficient in either case to show (the numbers being considerable) -that there is a true difference of style, the style of Oxford being -the better. But when we consider how the victories have been won this -comes out still more clearly. Making due estimate of the number of -lengths corresponding to so many seconds of time difference (where -the result of a race is so indicated in the list), for which purpose -it is sufficient to note that as many seconds as the race itself has -occupied minutes are equivalent to about 6½ lengths, we find for the -11 victories of Cambridge since 1846 about 30¼ lengths, and for the -14 rowed-out victories of Oxford about 106½ lengths—the Cambridge -average lead being thus found to be less than three lengths, while the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> -Oxford average lead at the finish has been close on eight lengths.</p> - -<p>The difference cannot reasonably be assigned to any cause which -was in operation when Cambridge had the larger share of victories. -Nearly every cause which has been commonly assigned, including the -unquestionably inferior arrangements for college racing at Cambridge, -falls into this category. There can be very little doubt that the -true explanation, as well of Cambridge success before 1850 as of -Oxford success since then, resides in the circumstance that the two -Universities have in the main adopted throughout the whole series of -contests two different styles—each style excellent in itself, but the -Cambridge as unquestionably superior to the Oxford for the heavier -kinds of river boats as the Oxford style is superior to the Cambridge -for the boats now actually used in river races. What the difference in -the two styles is I shall now briefly indicate.</p> - -<p>I am satisfied that the essential excellence of the old fashioned -racing style as used in the old fashioned boats becomes an inherent -defect in the same style as used in modern racing boats. I refer to the -principle involved in the words italicised (by myself) in the following -quotation from 'Principles of Rowing':—'The instant the oar touches -the water the arms and body begin to fall backwards, the <i>former -continuing at their full stretch till the back is perpendicular</i>. They -are then bent, the elbows being brought close past the sides, till -the hands, which are now brought home sharply, strike the body above -the lowest ribs.' Such was the stroke that brave old Coombes used to -teach, and such was the stroke by which, time and again, races were won -before 1850. But in proportion as the racing boat has been improved, -both by diminution of weight and resistance and by change of leverage, -the necessity has increased for a more energetic application of the -oarsman's power. A stroke which resulted in mere jerking, injurious -to the rower and not adding to speed, in the old racing boats, is -absolutely essential to the effective propulsion of the modern racing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> -boat, when once at least full speed has been attained, for before this -the old fashioned long drag with lightning feather is as useful now as -ever. Now, no one who has watched a really good Oxford crew at full -speed can fail to observe the way in which the oars literally smite -the water at the beginning of each stroke. No one who considers the -velocity with which they must move to give this sledge-hammer stroke -at the beginning can fail to perceive that the body alone cannot give -this velocity of impulse in the first part of the stroke. There is only -one way in which it can be attained, and that is by making the arms -work from the beginning, not merely in the sense in which they may -be said to work when continuing at their full stretch, but by actual -and energetic contraction. In the Cambridge style arms and body only -work together after the back is perpendicular; in the Oxford style -they work together from the beginning. The result is that by the time -the Oxford oars man has brought his back perpendicular his stroke is -finished; whereas the Cambridge oarsman has still to give that drag -at the end which used to be so much esteemed, and still is justly -esteemed, by sailors for sea-racing. The oar of the Oxford rower is a -much shorter time in the water, simply because it is propelled through -the water with far greater, or rather with much more concentrated -energy. The Oxford stroke, again, is necessarily a few inches shorter. -For as Cambridge men go as far forward and swing further backward, -it stands to reason that they get a little more length. But they get -this additional length at the cost of a great strain on the abdominal -muscles, and with no proportional effect. A very strong crew which -can maintain the long, dragging stroke with the lightning feather -from beginning to end may win, as Cambridge men have won, but only -because of their superior strength, not by virtue of that lift at the -end, which wearies the most stalwart, causes sluggish disengagement -of the hands, and in a long race has often caused a powerful crew to -be beaten by weaker men rowing in a more scientific manner. It is not -impossible, now that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> the Oxford crew have had set them the true Oxford -stroke that we may have an opportunity of witnessing something of this -kind on Saturday, though the manifest superiority of the Cambridge -crew in strength and the lateness of the change in the Oxford boat are -unfavourable to the chances of the dark blue. To return to the point -from which we started. The just style of propulsion for each class of -boat is a matter to be determined on scientific principles. There is -no real conflict between theory and practice in this matter. Every -change which has tended to increase the speed of racing boats has (like -the changes in Poncelet's experiment) rendered necessary an increased -energy, or, as one may say, an increased intensity of propulsion.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="ARTIFICIAL_SOMNAMBULISM" id="ARTIFICIAL_SOMNAMBULISM"><i>ARTIFICIAL SOMNAMBULISM.</i></a></p> - - -<p>Rather more than a quarter of a century ago two Americans visited -London, who called themselves professors of Electro-Biology, and -claimed the power of 'subjugating the most determined wills, paralysing -the strongest muscles, preventing the evidence of the senses, -destroying the memory of the most familiar events or of the most -recent occurrences, inducing obedience to any command, and making an -individual believe himself transformed into any one else.' All this -and more was to be effected, they said, by the action of a small disc -of zinc and copper held in the hand of the 'subject,' and steadily -gazed at by him, 'so as to concentrate the electro-magnetic action.' -The pretensions of these professors received before long a shock as -decisive as that which overthrew the credit of the professors of -animal magnetism when Haygarth and Falconer successfully substituted -wooden tractors for the metallic tractors which had been supposed -to convey the magnetic fluid. In 1851, Mr. Braid, a Scotch surgeon, -who had witnessed some of the exhibitions of the electro-biologists, -conceived the idea that the phenomena were not due to any special -qualities possessed by the discs of zinc and copper, but simply to -the fixed look of the 'subject' and the entire abstraction of his -attention. The same explanation applied to the so-called 'magnetic -passes' of the mesmerists. The monotonous manipulation of the operator -produced the same effect as the fixed stare of the 'subject.' He showed -by his ex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>periments that no magnetiser, with his imaginary secret -agents or fluids, is in the least wanted; but that the subjects can -place themselves in the same condition as the supposed subjects of -electro-biological influences by simply gazing fixedly at some object -for a long time with fixed attention.</p> - -<p>The condition thus superinduced is not hypnotism, or artificial -somnambulism, properly so called. 'The electro-biological' condition -may be regarded as simply a kind of reverie or abstraction artificially -produced. But Braid discovered that a more perfect control might be -obtained over 'subjects,' and a condition resembling that of the -sleepwalker artificially induced, by modifying the method of fixing the -attention. Instead of directing the subject's gaze upon a bright object -placed at a considerable distance from the eyes, so that no effect -was required to concentrate vision upon it, he placed a bright object -somewhat above and in front of the eyes at so short a distance that -the convergence of their axes upon it was accompanied with sufficient -effect to produce even a slight amount of pain. The condition to which -the 'subjects' of this new method were reduced was markedly different -from the ordinary 'electro-biological' state. Thus on one occasion, in -the presence of 800 persons, fourteen men were experimented upon. 'All -began the experiment at the same time; the former with their eyes fixed -upon a projecting cork, placed securely on their foreheads; the others -at their own will gazed steadily at certain points in the direction of -the audience. In the course of ten minutes the eyelids of these ten -persons had involuntarily closed. With some, consciousness remained; -others were in catalepsy, and entirely insensible to being stuck with -needles; and others on awakening knew absolutely nothing of what had -taken place during their sleep.' The other four simply passed into -the ordinary condition of electro-biologised 'subjects,' retaining -the recollection of all that happened to them while in the state of -artificial abstraction or reverie.</p> - -<p>Dr. Carpenter, in that most interesting work of his, 'Mental -Physiology,' thus describes the state of hypnotism:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>—'The process is -of the same kind as that employed for the induction of the "biological" -state; the only difference lying in the <i>greater intensity</i> of the -gaze, and in the more complete concentration of will upon the direction -of the eyes, which the nearer approximation of the object requires -for the maintenance of the convergence. In hypnotism, as in ordinary -somnambulism, no remembrance whatever is preserved in the waking state -of anything that may have occurred during its continuance; although the -previous train of thought may be taken up and continued uninterruptedly -on the next occasion that the hypnotism is induced. And when the mind -is not excited to activity by the stimulus of external impressions, the -hypnotised subject appears to be profoundly asleep; a state of complete -torpor, in fact, being usually the first result of the process, and -any subsequent manifestation of activity being procurable only by -the prompting of the operator. The hypnotised subject, too, rarely -opens his eyes; his bodily movements are usually slow; his mental -operations require a considerable time in their performance; and there -is altogether an appearance of heaviness about him, which contrasts -strongly with the comparatively wide-awake air of him who has not -passed beyond the ordinary "biological" state.'</p> - -<p>We must note, however, in passing, that the condition of complete -hypnotism had been obtained in several instances by some of the -earlier experimenters in animal magnetism. One remarkable instance -was communicated to the surgical section of the French Academy on -April 16, 1829, by Jules Cloquet. Two meetings were entirely devoted -to its investigation. The following account presents all the chief -points of the case, surgical details being entirely omitted, however, -as not necessary for our present purpose:—A lady, aged sixty-four, -consulted M. Cloquet on April 8, 1829, on account of an ulcerated -cancer of the right breast which had continued, gradually growing -worse, during several years. M. Chapelain, the physician attending the -lady, had 'magnetised' her for some months, producing no remedial<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> -effects, but only a very profound sleep or torpor, during which all -sensibility seemed to be annihilated, while the ideas retained all -their clearness. He proposed to M. Cloquet to operate upon her while -she was in this state of torpor, and, the latter, considering the -operation the only means of saving her life, consented. The two doctors -do not appear to have been troubled by any scruples as to their right -thus to conduct an operation to which, when in her normal condition, -the patient strenuously objected. It sufficed for them that when -they had put her to sleep artificially, she could be persuaded to -submit to it. On the appointed day M. Cloquet found the patient ready -'dressed and seated in an elbow-chair, in the attitude of a person -enjoying a quiet natural sleep.' In reality, however, she was in the -somnambulistic state, and talked calmly of the operation. During the -whole time that the operation lasted—from ten to twelve minutes—she -continued to converse quietly with M. Cloquet, 'and did not exhibit -the slightest sign of sensibility. There was no motion of the limbs -or of the features, no change in the respiration nor in the voice; no -motions even in the pulse. The patient continued in the same state -of automatic indifference and impassibility in which she had been -some minutes before the operation.' For forty-eight hours after this, -the patient remained in the somnambulistic state, showing no sign of -pain during the subsequent dressing of the wound. When awakened from -this prolonged sleep she had no recollection of what had passed in -the interval; 'but on being informed of the operation, and seeing her -children around her, she experienced a very lively emotion which the -"magnetiser" checked by immediately setting her asleep.' Certainly none -of the hypnotised 'subjects' of Mr. Braid's experiments showed more -complete abstraction from their normal condition than this lady; and -other cases cited in Bertrand's work, 'Le Magnetisme Animal en France' -(1826), are almost equally remarkable. As it does not appear that in -any of these cases Braid's method of producing hypnotism<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> by causing -the eyes, or rather their optical axes, to be converged upon a point, -was adopted, we must conclude that this part of the method is not -absolutely essential to success. Indeed, the circumstance that in some -of Braid's public experiments numbers of the audience became hypnotised -without his knowledge, shows that the more susceptible 'subjects' do -not require to contemplate a point near and slightly above the eyes, -but may be put into the true hypnotic state by methods which, with the -less susceptible, produce only the electro-biological condition.</p> - -<p>It will be well, however, to inquire somewhat carefully into this -point. My present object, I would note, is not merely to indicate the -remarkable nature of the phenomena of hypnotism, but to consider these -phenomena with direct reference to their probable cause. It may not be -possible to obtain a satisfactory explanation of them. But it is better -to view them as phenomena to be accounted for than merely as surprising -but utterly inexplicable circumstances.</p> - -<p>Now we have fortunately the means of determining the effect of the -physical relations involved in these experiments, apart from those -which are chiefly due to imagination. For animals can be hypnotised, -and the conditions necessary for this effect to be fully produced have -been ascertained.</p> - -<p>The most familiar experiment of this sort is sometimes known as -Kircher's. Let the feet of a hen be tied together (though this is not -necessary in all cases), and the hen placed on a level surface. Then if -the body of the hen is gently pressed down, the head extended with the -beak pointing downwards, touching the surface on which the hen stands, -and a chalk mark is drawn slowly along the surface, from the tip of the -beak in a line extending directly from the bird's eye, it is found that -the hen will remain for a considerable time perfectly still, though -left quite free to move. She is, in fact, hypnotised.</p> - -<p>We have now to inquire what parts of the process just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> described are -effective in producing the hypnotic condition, or whether all are -essential to success in the experiment.</p> - -<p>In the first place, the fastening of the feet may be dispensed -with. But it has its influence, and makes the experiment easier. An -explanation, or rather an illustration, of its effect is afforded by a -singular and interesting experiment devised by Lewissohn of Berlin:—If -a frog is placed on its back, it immediately, when the hand which had -held it is removed, turns over and escapes. But if the two fore-legs -are tied with a string, the frog, when placed on its back, breathes -heavily but is otherwise quite motionless, and does not make the least -attempt to escape, even when the experimenter tries to move it. 'It -is as though,' say Czermak, describing the experiment as performed -by himself, 'its small amount of reasoning power had been charmed -away, or else that it slept with open eyes. Now I press upon the -cutaneous nerves of the frog, while I loosen and remove the threads -on the fore-legs. Still the animal remains motionless upon its back, -in consequence of some remaining after-effect; at last, however, it -returns to itself, turns over, and quickly escapes.'</p> - -<p>Thus far the idea suggested is that the animal is so affected by the -cutaneous pressure as to suppose itself tied and therefore unable -to move. In other words, this experiment suggests that imagination -acts on animals as on men, only in a different degree. I may cite -here a curious case which I once noticed and have never been able to -understand, though it seems to suggest the influence of imagination on -an animal one would hardly suspect of being at all under the influence -of any but purely physical influences. Hearing a noise as of a cat -leaping down from a pantry window which looked out on an enclosed yard, -I went directly into the yard, and there saw a strange cat running -off with a fish she had stolen. She was at the moment leaping on to -a bin, from the top of which, by another very easy leap, she could -get on to the wall enclosing the yard, and so escape. With the idea -rather of frightening her than of hurting her (does one missile out of -a hundred flung<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> at cats ever hit them?) I threw at the thief a small -piece of wood which I had in my hand at the moment. It struck the -wall above her just as she was going to leap to the top of the wall, -and it fell, without touching her, between her and the wall. To my -surprise, she stood perfectly still, looking at the piece of wood; her -mouth, from which the fish had fallen, remaining open, and her whole -attitude expressing stupid wonder. I make no doubt I could have taken -her prisoner, or struck her heavily, if I had wished, for she made no -effort to escape, until, with a parlour broom which stood by, I pushed -her along the top of the bin towards the wall, when she seemed suddenly -to arouse herself, and leaping to the top of the wall she made off. -My wife witnessed the last scene of this curious little comedy. In -fact, it was chiefly, perhaps, because she pleaded for mercy on 'the -poor thing' that the soft end of the broom alone came into operation; -for, though not altogether agreeing with the Count of Rousillon that -anything can be endured before a cat, I did not at the moment regard -that particular cat with special favour.</p> - -<p>The extension of the neck and depression of the head, in the experiment -with the hen, have no special significance, for Czermak has been able -to produce the same phenomena of hypnotism without them, and has failed -to produce the hypnotic effect on pigeons when attending to this point, -and in other respects proceeding as nearly as possible in the same -way as with hens. 'With the hens,' he says, 'I often hung a piece of -twine, or a small piece of wood, directly over their crests, so that -the end fell before their eyes. The hens not only remained perfectly -motionless, but closed their eyes, and slept with their heads sinking -until they came in contact with the table. Before falling asleep, -the hens' heads can be either pressed down or raised up, and they -will remain in this position as if they were pieces of wax. That is, -however, a symptom of a cataleptic condition, such as is seen in human -beings, under certain pathological conditions of the nervous system.'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> - -<p>On the other hand, repeated experiments convinced Czermak that the -pressure on the animal as it is held is of primary importance. It -is frequently the case, he says, that a hen, which for a minute has -been in a motionless state, caused by simply extending the neck and -depressing the head, awakes and flies away, but on being caught again -immediately, she can be placed once more in the condition of lethargy, -if we place the animal in a squatting position, and overcome with -gentle force the resistance of the muscles, by firmly placing the hand -upon its back. During the slow and measured suppression, one often -perceives an extremely remarkable position of the head and neck, which -are left entirely free. The head remains as if held by an invisible -hand in its proper place, the neck being stretched out of proportion, -while the body by degrees is pushed downwards. If the animal is thus -left entirely free, it remains for a minute or so in this peculiar -condition with wide-open staring eyes. 'Here,' as Czermak remarks, -'the actual circumstances are only the effect of the emotion which the -nerves of the skin excite, and the gentle force which overcomes the -animal's resistance. Certainly the creature a short time before had -been in a condition of immobility, and might have retained some special -inclination to fall back into the same, although the awakening, flight, -and recapture, together with the refreshment given to the nervous -system, are intermediate circumstances.' Similar experiments are best -made upon small birds. Now, it is well known to bird fanciers that -goldfinches, canary-birds, &c. can be made to remain motionless for -some time by simply holding them firmly for a moment and then letting -them go. 'Here, in my hand,' said Czermak, in his lecture, 'is a timid -bird, just brought from market. If I place it on its back, and hold its -head with my left hand, keeping it still for a few seconds, it will -lie perfectly motionless after I have removed my hands, as if charmed, -breathing heavily, and without making any attempt to change its -position or to fly away.' ('Two of the birds,' says the report, 'were -treated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> in this manner without effect; but the third, a siskin, fell -into a sleeping condition, and remained completely immovable on its -back, until pushed with a glass tube, when it awoke and flew actively -around the room.')</p> - -<p>Also when a bird is in a sitting position, and the head is pressed -slightly back, the bird falls into a sleeping condition, even though -the eyes had been open. 'I have often noticed,' says Czermak, 'that the -birds under these circumstances close their eyes for a few minutes or -even a quarter of an hour, and are more or less fast asleep.'</p> - -<p>Lastly, as to the chalk-line in Kircher's experiment. Czermak found, -as already said, that pigeons do not become motionless, as happens to -hens, if merely held firmly in the hand, and their heads and necks -pressed gently on the table. Nor can they be hypnotised like small -birds in the experiment last mentioned. 'That is,' he says, 'I held -them with a thumb placed on each side of the head, which I bent over -a little, while the other hand held the body gently pressed down upon -the table; but even this treatment, which has such an effect on little -birds, did not seem to succeed at first with the pigeons: almost always -they flew away as soon as I liberated them and entirely removed my -hands.' But he presently noticed that the short time during which the -pigeons remained quiet lengthened considerably when the finger only of -the hand which held the head was removed. Removing the hand holding -the body made no difference, but retaining the other hand near the -bird's head, the hand made all the difference in the world. Pursuing -the line of research thus indicated, Czermak found to his astonishment -that the fixing of the pigeon's look on the finger placed before its -eyes was the secret of the matter. In order to determine the question -still more clearly, he tried the experiment on a pigeon which he had -clasped firmly by the body in his left hand, but whose neck and head -were perfectly free. 'I held one finger of my right hand steadily -before the top of its beak,—and what did I see? The first pigeon with -which I made this attempt re<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>mained rigid and motionless, as if bound, -for several minutes, before the outstretched forefinger of my right -hand! Yes, I could take my left hand, with which I had held the bird, -and again touch the pigeon without waking it up; the animal remained in -the same position while I held my outstretched finger still pointing -towards the beak.' 'The lecturer,' says the report, 'demonstrated -this experiment in the most successful manner with a pigeon which was -brought to him.'</p> - -<p>Yet it is to be noticed that among animals as among men, different -degrees of subjectivity exist. 'Individual inward relations,' says -Czermak, 'as well as outward conditions, must necessarily exercise some -disturbing influence, whether the animal will give itself up to the -requisite exertions of certain parts of its brain with more or less -inclination or otherwise. We often see, for example, that a pigeon -endeavours to escape from confinement by a quick turning of its head -from side to side. In following these singular and characteristic -movements of the head and neck, with the finger held before the bird, -one either gains his point, or else makes the pigeon so perplexed and -excited that it at last becomes quiet, so that, if it is held firmly -by the body and head, it can be forced gently down upon the table. -As Schopenhauer says of sleeping, "The brain must bite." I will also -mention here, by the way, that a tame parrot, which I have in my house, -can be placed in this sleepy condition by simply holding the finger -steadily before the top of its beak.'</p> - -<p>I may cite here a singular illustration of the effect of perplexity -in the case of a creature in all other respects much more naturally -circumstanced than the hens, pigeons, and small birds of Czermak's -experiments. In the spring of 1859, when I was an undergraduate at -Cambridge, I and a friend of mine were in canoes on the part of the -Cam which flows through the College grounds. Here there are many ducks -and a few swans. It occurred to us, not, I fear, from any special -scientific spirit, but as a matter of curiosity, to inquire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> whether it -was possible to pass over a duck in a canoe. Of course on the approach -of either canoe a duck would try to get out of the way on one side or -the other; but on the course of the canoe being rapidly changed, the -duck would have to change his course. Then the canoe's course would -again be changed, so as to compel the duck to try the other side. The -canoe drawing all the time nearer, and her changes of course being made -very lightly and in quicker and quicker alternation as she approached, -the duck would generally get bewildered, and finally would allow the -canoe to pass over him, gently pressing him under water in its course. -The process, in fact, was a sort of mild keelhauling. The absolute -rigidity of body and the dull stupid stare with which some of the -ducks met their fate seems to me (<i>now</i>: I was not in 1859 familiar -with the phenomena of hypnotism) to suggest that the effect was to be -explained as Czermak explains the hypnotism of the pigeons on which he -experimented.</p> - -<p>We shall be better able now to understand the phenomena of artificial -somnambulism in the case of human beings. If the circumstances observed -by Kircher, Czermak, Lewissohn, and others, suggest, as I think they -do, that animal hypnotism is a form of the phenomenon sometimes called -fascination, we may be led to regard the possibility of artificial -somnambulism in men as a survival of a property playing in all -probability an important and valuable part in the economy of animal -life. It is in this direction, at present, that the evidence seems to -tend.</p> - -<p>The most remarkable circumstance about the completely hypnotised -subject is the seemingly complete control of the will of the 'subject' -and even of his opinions. Even the mere suggestions of the operator, -not expressed verbally or by signs, but by movements imparted to the -body of the subject, are at once responded to, as though, to use Dr. -Garth Wilkinson's expression, the <i>whole man</i> were given to each -perception. Thus, 'if the hand be placed,' says Dr. Carpenter, 'upon -the top of the head, the somnambulist will frequently, of his own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> -accord, draw up his body to its fullest height, and throw his head -slightly back; his countenance then assumes an expression of the -most lofty pride, and his whole mind is obviously possessed by that -feeling. When the first action does not of itself call forth the rest, -it is sufficient for the operator to straighten the legs and spine, -and to throw the head somewhat back, to arouse that feeling and the -corresponding expression to its fullest intensity. During the most -complete domination of this emotion, let the head be bent forward, -and the body and limbs gently flexed; and the most profound humility -then instantaneously takes its place.' Of course in some cases we may -well believe that the expressions thus described by Dr. Carpenter have -been simulated by the subject. But there can be no reason to doubt -the reality of the operator's control in many cases. Dr. Carpenter -says that he has not only been an eye-witness of them on various -occasions, but that he places full reliance on the testimony of an -intelligent friend, who submitted himself to Mr. Braid's manipulations, -but retained sufficient self-consciousness and voluntary power to -endeavour to exercise some resistance to their influence at the time, -and subsequently to retrace his course of thought and feeling. 'This -gentleman declares,' says Dr. Carpenter, 'that, although accustomed -to the study of character and to self-observation, he could not -have conceived that the whole mental state should have undergone so -instantaneous and complete a metamorphosis, as he remembers it to -have done, when his head and body were bent forward in the attitude -of humility, after having been drawn to their full height in that of -self-esteem.'</p> - -<p>A most graphic description of the phenomena of hypnotism is given by -Dr. Garth Wilkinson:—'The preliminary state is that of abstraction, -produced by fixed gaze upon some unexciting and empty thing (for -poverty of object engenders abstraction), and this abstraction is the -logical premiss of what follows. Abstraction tends to become more and -more abstract, narrower and narrower; it tends to unity and afterwards -to nullity. There, then, the patient is, at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> summit of attention, -with no object left, a mere statue of attention, a listening, expectant -life; a perfectly undistracted faculty, dreaming of a lessening and -lessening mathematical point: the end of his mind sharpened away to -nothing. What happens? Any sensation that appeals is met by this -brilliant attention, and receives its diamond glare; being perceived -with a force of leisure of which our distracted life affords only the -rudiments. External influences are sensated, sympathised with, to an -extraordinary degree; harmonious music sways the body into graces the -most affecting; discords jars it, as though they would tear it limb -from limb. Cold and heat are perceived with similar exaltation; so -also smells and touches. In short, <i>the whole man appears to be given -to each perception</i>. The body trembles like down with the wafts of the -atmosphere; the world plays upon it as upon a spiritual instrument -finely attuned.'</p> - -<p>This state, which may be called the natural hypnotic state, may be -artificially modified. 'The power of suggestion over the patient,' says -Dr. Garth Wilkinson, 'is excessive. If you say, "What animal is it?" -the patient will tell you it is a lamb, or a rabbit, or any other. -"Does he see it?" "Yes." "What animal is it <i>now</i>?" putting depth and -gloom into the tone of <i>now</i>, and thereby suggesting a difference. -"Oh!" with a shudder, "it is a wolf!" "What colour is it?" still -glooming the phrase. "Black." "What colour is it now?" giving the <i>now</i> -a cheerful air. "Oh! a beautiful blue!" (rather an unusual colour for a -wolf, I would suggest), spoken with the utmost delight (and no wonder! -especially if the hypnotic subject were a naturalist). And so you lead -the subject through any dreams you please, by variations of questions -and of inflections of the voice! and <i>he sees and feels all as real</i>.'</p> - -<p>We have seen how the patient's mind can be influenced by changing the -posture of his body. Dr. Wilkinson gives very remarkable evidence on -this point. 'Double his fist and pull up his arm, if you dare,' he -says, of the subject, 'for you will have the strength of your ribs -rudely tested.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> Put him on his knees and clasp his hands, and the -saints and devotees of the artists will pale before the trueness of his -devout actings. Raise his head while in prayer, and his lips pour forth -exulting glorifications, as he sees heaven opened, and the majesty of -God raising him to his place; then in a moment depress the head, and he -is in dust and ashes, an unworthy sinner, with the pit of hell yawning -at his feet. Or compress the forehead, so as to wrinkle it vertically, -and thorny-toothed clouds contract in from the very horizon' (in the -subject's imagination, it will be understood); 'and what is remarkable, -the smallest pinch and wrinkle, such as will lie between your nipping -nails, is sufficient nucleus to crystallise the man into that shape, -and to make him all foreboding, as, again, the smallest expansion in a -moment brings the opposite state, with a full breathing of delight.'</p> - -<p>Some will perhaps think the next instance the most remarkable of all, -perfectly natural though one half of the performance may have been. The -subject being a young lady, the operator asks whether she or another -is the prettier, raising her head as he puts the question. 'Observe,' -says Dr. Wilkinson, 'the inexpressible hauteur, and the puff sneers let -off from the lips' (see Darwin's treatise on the 'Expression of the -Emotions,' plate IV. i, and plate V. i) 'which indicate a conclusion -too certain to need utterance. Depress the head, and repeat the -question, and mark the self-abasement with which she now says "<i>She -is</i>," as hardly worthy to make the comparison.'</p> - -<p>In this state, in fact, 'whatever posture of any passion is induced, -the passion comes into it at once, and dramatises the body accordingly.'</p> - -<p>It might seem that there must of necessity be some degree of -exaggeration in this description, simply because the power of -adequately expressing any given emotion is not possessed by all. Some -can in a moment bring any expression into the face, or even simulate -at once the expression and the aspect of another person, while many -persons, probably most, possess scarcely any power of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> sort, and -fail ridiculously even in attempting to reproduce the expressions -corresponding to the commonest emotions. But it is abundantly clear -that the hypnotised subject possesses for the time being abnormal -powers. No doubt this is due to the circumstance that for the time -being 'the whole man is given to each perception.' The stories -illustrative of this peculiarity of the hypnotised state are so -remarkable that they have been rejected as utterly incredible by many -who are not acquainted with the amount of evidence we have upon this -point.</p> - -<p>The instances above cited by Dr. Garth Wilkinson, remarkable though -they may be, are surpassed altogether in interest by a case which -Dr. Carpenter mentions,—of a factory girl, whose musical powers had -received little cultivation, and who could scarcely speak her own -language correctly, who nevertheless exactly imitated both the words -and the music of vocal performances by Jenny Lind. Dr. Carpenter was -assured by witnesses in whom he could place implicit reliance, that -this girl, in the hypnotised state, followed the Swedish nightingale's -songs in different languages 'so instantaneously and correctly, as to -both words and music, that it was difficult to distinguish the two -voices. In order to test the powers of the somnambulist to the utmost, -Mademoiselle Lind extemporised a long and elaborate chromatic exercise, -which the girl imitated with no less precision, though in her waking -state she durst not even attempt anything of the sort.'</p> - -<p>The exaltation of the senses of hypnotised subjects is an equally -wonderful phenomenon. Dr. Carpenter relates many very remarkable -instances as occurring within his own experience. He has 'known a -youth, in the hypnotised state,' he says, 'to find out, by the sense of -smell, the owner of a glove which was placed in his hand, from amongst -a party of more than sixty persons, scenting at each of them one after -the other until he came to the right individual. In another case, the -owner of a ring was unhesitatingly found out from amongst a company -of twelve, the ring having been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> withdrawn from the finger before the -somnambule was introduced.' The sense of touch has, in other cases, -been singularly intensified, insomuch that slight differences of heat, -which to ordinary feeling were quite inappreciable, would be at once -detected, while such differences as can be but just perceived in the -ordinary state would produce intense distress.</p> - -<p>In some respects, the increase of muscular power, or rather of the -power of special muscles, is even more striking, because it is commonly -supposed by most persons that the muscular power depends entirely on -the size and quality of the muscles, the state of health, and like -conditions, not on the imagination. Of course every one knows that the -muscles are capable of greater efforts when the mind is much excited -by fear and other emotions. But the general idea is, I think, that -whatever the body is capable of doing under circumstances of great -excitement, it is in reality capable of doing at all times if only -a resolute effort is made. Nor is it commonly supposed that a very -wide difference exists between the greatest efforts of the body under -excitement and those of which it is ordinarily capable. Now, the -condition of the hypnotised subject is certainly not one of excitement. -The attempts which he is directed to make are influenced only by the -idea that he <i>can</i> do what he is told, not that he <i>must</i> do so. When a -man pursued by a bull leaps over a wall which under ordinary conditions -he would not even think of climbing, we can understand that he only -does, because he must, what if he liked he could do at any time. But -if a man who had been making his best efforts in jumping, cleared -only a height of four feet, and presently being told to jump over an -eight-feet wall, cleared that height with apparent ease, we should be -disposed to regard the feat as savouring of the miraculous.</p> - -<p>Now Dr. Carpenter saw one of Mr. Braid's hypnotised subjects—a man so -remarkable for the poverty of his physical development that he had not -for many years ventured to lift up a weight of twenty pounds in his -ordinary state—<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>take up a quarter of a hundredweight upon his little -finger, and swing it round his head with the utmost apparent ease, on -being told that it was as light as a feather. 'On another occasion -he lifted a half-hundredweight on the last joint of his forefinger -as high as his knee.' The personal character of the man placed him -above all suspicion of deceit, in the opinion of those who best knew -him; and as Dr. Carpenter acutely remarks, 'the impossibility of any -trickery in such a case would be evident to the educated eye, since, -if he had practised such feats (which very few, even of the strongest -men could accomplish without practice), the effect would have made -itself visible in his muscular development.' 'Consequently,' he adds, -'when the same individual afterwards declared himself unable, with the -greatest effort, to lift a handkerchief from the table, after having -been assured that he could not possibly move it, there was no reason -for questioning the truth of his conviction, based as this was upon -the same kind of suggestion as that by which he had been just before -prompted to what seemed an otherwise impossible action.'</p> - -<p>The explanation of this and the preceding cases cannot be mistaken by -physiologists, and is very important in its bearing on the phenomena -of hypnotism generally, at once involving an interpretation of the -whole series of phenomena, and suggesting other relations not as yet -illustrated experimentally. It is well known that in our ordinary use -of any muscles we employ but a small part of the muscle at any given -moment. What the muscle is actually capable of is shown in convulsive -contractions, in which far more force is put forth than the strongest -effort of the will could call into play. We explain, then, the seeming -increase of strength in any set of muscles during the hypnotic state as -due to the concentration of the subject's will in an abnormal manner, -or to an abnormal degree, on that set of muscles. In a similar way, -the great increase of certain powers of perception may be explained -as due to the concentration of the will upon the corresponding parts -of the nervous system.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> In like manner, the will may be directed so -entirely to the operations necessary for the performances of difficult -feats, that the hypnotised or somnambulistic subject may be able to -accomplish what in his ordinary condition would be impossible or -even utterly appalling to him. Thus sleep-walkers (whose condition -precisely resembles that of the artificially hypnotised, except that -the suggestions they experience come from contact with inanimate -objects, instead of being aroused by the actions of another person) -'can clamber walls and roofs, traverse narrow planks, step firmly along -high parapets, and perform other feats which they would shrink from -attempting in their waking state.' This is simply, as Dr. Carpenter -points out, because they are <i>not distracted</i> by the sense of danger -which their vision would call up, from concentrating their exclusive -attention on the guidance afforded by their muscular sense.'</p> - -<p>But the most remarkable and suggestive of all the facts known -respecting hypnotism is the influence which can by its means be -brought to bear upon special parts or functions of the body. We know -that imagination will hasten or retard certain processes commonly -regarded as involuntary (indeed, the influence of imagination is itself -in great degree involuntary). We know further that in some cases -imagination will do much more than this, as in the familiar cases of -the disappearance of warts under the supposed influence of charms, -the cure of scrofula at a touch, and hundreds of well-attested cases -of so-called miraculous cures. But although the actual cases of the -curative influence obtained over hypnotised patients may not be in -reality more striking than some of these, yet they are more suggestive -at any rate to ordinary minds, because they are known not to be the -result of any charm or miraculous interference, but to be due to simply -natural processes initiated by natural though unfamiliar means.</p> - -<p>Take, for instance, such a case as the following, related by Dr. -Carpenter (who has himself witnessed many remarkable cases of -hypnotic cure):—'A female relative of Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> Braid's was the subject -of a severe rheumatic fever, during the course of which the left eye -became seriously implicated, so that after the inflammatory action -had passed away, there was an opacity over more than one half of the -cornea, which not only prevented distinct vision, but occasioned -an annoying disfigurement. Having placed herself under Mr. Braid's -hypnotic treatment for the relief of violent pain in her arm and -shoulder, she found, to the surprise alike of herself and Mr. Braid, -that her sight began to improve very perceptibly. The operation was -therefore continued daily; and in a very short time the cornea became -so transparent that close inspection was required to discover any -remains of the opacity.' On this, Carpenter remarks that he has known -other cases in which secretions that had been morbidly suspended have -been reinduced by this process; and is satisfied that, if applied -with skill and discrimination, it would take rank as one of the most -potent methods of treatment which the physician has at his command. He -adds that 'the channel of influence is obviously the system of nerves -which regulates the secretions—nerves which, though not under direct -subjection to the will, are peculiarly affected by emotional states.'</p> - -<p>I may remark, in passing, that nerves which are not ordinarily under -the influence of the will, but whose office would be to direct muscular -movements if only the will could influence them, may by persistent -attention become obedient to the will. When I was last in New York, -I met a gentleman who gave me a long and most interesting account -of certain experiments which he had made on himself. The account -was not forced on me, the reader must understand, but was elicited -by questions suggested by one or two remarkable facts which he had -casually mentioned as falling within his experience. I had only his -own word for much that he told me, and some may perhaps consider that -there was very little truth in the narrative. I may pause here to make -some remarks by the way, on the traits of truthful and untruthful -persons. I believe very slight powers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> of observation are necessary to -detect want of veracity in any man, though absence of veracity in any -particular story may not be easily detected or established. I am not -one of those who believe every story they hear, and trust in every one -they meet. But I have noticed one or two features by which the habitual -teller of untruths may be detected very readily, as may also one who, -without telling actual falsehoods, tries to heighten the effect of -any story he may have to tell, by strengthening all the particulars. -My experience in this respect is unlike Dickens's, who believed, and -indeed found, that a man whom on first seeing he distrusted, and -justly, could explain away the unfavourable impression. 'My first -impression,' he says, 'about such people, founded on face and manner -alone, was invariably true; my mistake was in suffering them to come -nearer to me and explain themselves away.' I have found it otherwise; -though of course Dickens was right about his own experience: the matter -depends entirely on the idiosyncrasies of the observer. I have often -been deceived by face and expression: never, to the best of my belief -(and belief in this case is not mere opinion, but is based on results), -by manner of speaking. One peculiarity I have never found wanting in -habitually mendacious persons—a certain intonation which I cannot -describe, but recognise in a moment, suggestive of the weighing of each -sentence as it is being uttered, as though to consider how it would -tell. Another, is a peculiarity of manner, but it only shows itself -during speech; it is a sort of watchfulness often disguised under a -careless tone, but perfectly recognisable however disguised. Now, the -gentleman who gave me the experience I am about to relate, conveyed to -my mind, by every intonation of his voice and every peculiarity and -change of manner, the idea of truthfulness. I cannot convey to others -the impression thus conveyed to myself: nor do I expect that others -will share my own confidence: I simply state the case as I know it, -and as far as I know it. It will, however, be seen that a part of the -evidence was confirmed on the spot.</p> - -<p>The conversation turned on the curability of consump<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>tion. My -informant, whom I will henceforth call A., said that, though he could -not assert from experience that consumption was curable, he believed -that in many cases where the tendency to consumption is inherited, -and the consumptive constitution indicated so manifestly that under -ordinary conditions the person would before long be hopelessly -consumptive, an entire change may be made in the condition of the body, -and the person become strong and healthy. He said: 'I belong myself -to a family many of whose members have died of consumption. My father -and mother both died of it, and all my brothers and sisters save one -brother; yet I do not look consumptive, do I?' and certainly he did -not. He then took from a pocket-book a portrait of his brother, showing -a young man manifestly in very bad health, looking worn, weary, and -emaciated. From the same pocket-book A. then took another portrait, -asking if I recognised it. I saw here again a worn and emaciated face -and figure. The picture was utterly unlike the hearty well-built man -before me, yet it manifestly represented no other. If I had been at all -doubtful, my doubts would have been removed by certain peculiarities -to which A. called my attention. I asked how the change in his health -had been brought about. He told me a very remarkable story of his -treatment of himself, part of which I omit because I am satisfied he -was mistaken in attributing to that portion of his self-treatment -any part of the good result which he had obtained, and that if many -consumptive patients adopted the remedy, a large proportion, if not -all, would inevitably succumb very quickly. The other portion of his -account is all that concerns us here, being all that illustrates our -present subject. He said: 'I determined to exercise every muscle of my -body; I set myself in front of a mirror and concentrated my attention -and all the power of my will on the muscle or set of muscles I proposed -to bring into action. Then I exercised those muscles in every way I -could think of, continuing the process till I had used in succession -every muscle over which the will has control.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> While carrying out this -system, I noticed that gradually the will acquired power over muscles -which before I had been quite unable to move. I may say, indeed, that -every set of muscles recognised by anatomists, except those belonging -to internal organs, gradually came under the control of my will.' Here -I interrupted, asking (not by any means as doubting his veracity, for -I did not): 'Can you do what Dundreary said he thought some fellow -might be able to do? can you waggle your left ear?' 'Why, certainly,' -he replied; and turning the left side of his head towards me, he moved -his left ear about; not, it is true, waggling it, but drawing it up and -down in a singular way, which was, he said, the only exercise he ever -gave it. He said, on this, that there are many other muscles over which -the will has ordinarily no control, but may be made to obtain control; -and forthwith, drawing the cloth of his trousers rather tight round -the right thigh (so that the movement he was about to show might be -discernible) he made in succession the three muscles of the front and -inner side of the thigh rise about half an inch along some nine or ten -inches of their length. Now, though these muscles are among those which -are governed by the will, for they are used in a variety of movements, -yet not one in ten thousand, perhaps in a million, can move them in the -way described.</p> - -<p>How far A.'s system of exciting the muscles individually as well as in -groups may have operated in improving his health, as he supposed, I am -not now inquiring. What I wish specially to notice is the influence -which the will may be made to obtain over muscles ordinarily beyond -its control. It may be that under the exceptional influence of the -imagination, in the hypnotic condition, the will obtains a similar -control for a while over even those parts of the nervous system which -appertain to the so-called involuntary processes. In other words, -the case I have cited may be regarded as occupying a sort of middle -position between ordinary cases of muscular action and those perplexing -cases in which the hypnotic subject seems able to influence pulsa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>tion, -circulation, and processes of secretion in the various parts or organs -of his body.</p> - -<p>It must be noted, however, that the phenomena of hypnotism are due -solely to the influence of the imagination. The quasi-scientific -explanations which attributed them to magnetism, electricity, some -subtle animal fluid, some occult force, and so forth, have been as -completely negatived as the supernatural explanation. We have seen that -painted wooden tractors were as effectual as the metal tractors of the -earlier mesmerists; a small disc of card or wood is as effective as -the disc of zinc and copper used by the electro-biologists; and now -it appears that the mystical influence, or what was thought such, of -the operator is no more essential to success than magnetic or electric -apparatus.</p> - -<p>Dr. Noble of Manchester made several experiments to determine this -point. Some among them seem absolutely decisive.</p> - -<p>Thus, a friend of Dr. Noble's had a female servant whom he had -frequently thrown into the hypnotic state, trying a variety of -experiments, many of which Dr. Noble had witnessed. Dr. Noble was at -length told that his friend had succeeded in magnetising her from -another room and without her knowledge, with some other stories even -more marvellous, circumstantially related by eye-witnesses, 'amongst -others by the medical attendant of the family, a most respectable and -intelligent friend' of Dr. Noble's own. As he remained unsatisfied, Dr. -Noble was invited to come and judge for himself, proposing whatever -test he pleased. 'Now had we visited the house,' he says, 'we should -have felt dissatisfied with any result,' knowing 'that the presence -of a visitor or the occurrence of anything unusual was sure to excite -expectation of some mesmeric process.' 'We therefore proposed,' -he proceeds, 'that the experiment should be carried on at our own -residence; and it was made under the following circumstances:—The -gentleman early one evening wrote a note as if on business, -directing it to ourselves. He thereupon summoned the female servant -(the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> mesmeric subject), requesting her to convey the note to its -destination, and to wait for an answer. The gentleman himself, in her -hearing, ordered a cab, stating that if anyone called he was going to -a place named, but was expected to return by a certain hour. Whilst -the female servant was dressing for her errand, the master placed -himself in the vehicle and rapidly arrived at our dwelling. In about -ten minutes after the note arrived, the gentleman in the meantime -being secreted in an adjoining apartment, we requested the young woman -who had been shown into our study, to take a seat whilst we wrote the -answer; at the same time placing the chair with its back to the door -leading into the next room which was left ajar. It had been agreed -that after the admission of the girl into the place where we were, the -magnetiser, approaching the door in silence on the other side, should -commence operations. There, then, was the patient or "subject" placed -within two feet of her magnetiser, a door only intervening, and that -but partially closed; but she, all the while, perfectly free from all -idea of what was going on. We were careful to avoid any unnecessary -conversation with the girl, or even to look towards her, lest we -should raise some suspicion in her own mind. We wrote our letter (as -if in answer) for nearly a quarter of an hour, once or twice only -making an indifferent remark, and on leaving the room for a light to -seal the supposed letter, we beckoned the operator away. No effect -whatever had been produced, although we had been told that two or three -minutes were sufficient, even when mesmerising from the drawing-room, -through walls and apartments, into the kitchen. In our own experiment -the intervening distance had been very much less, and only one solid -substance intervened, and that not completely; but here we suspect was -the difference—<i>the "subject" was unconscious of the magnetism and -expected nothing</i>.'</p> - -<p>In another case Dr. Noble tried the converse experiment with equally -convincing results. Being in company one evening with a young lady -said to be of high mesmeric sus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>ceptibility, he requested and -received permission to test this quality in her. In one of the usual -ways he 'magnetised' her, and having so far satisfied himself, he -'demagnetised' her. He next proceeded to 'hypnotise' her, adopting Mr. -Braid's method of directing the stare at a fixed point. 'The result -varied in no respect from that which had taken place in the foregoing -experiment; the duration of the process was the same, and its intensity -of effect neither greater nor less.' 'De-hypnotisation' again restored -the young lady to herself. 'And now,' says Dr. Noble, 'we requested -our patient to rest quietly at the fire-place, to think of just what -she liked, and to look where she pleased, excepting at ourselves, -who retreated behind her chair, saying that a new mode was about to -be tried, and that her turning round would disturb the process. We -very composedly took up a volume which lay upon a table, and amused -ourselves with it for about five minutes, when on raising our eyes, we -could see by the excited features of other members of the party that -the young lady was once more <i>magnetised</i>. We were informed by those -who had attentively watched her during the progress of our little -experiment, that all had been in every respect just as before. The lady -herself, before she was undeceived, expressed a distinct consciousness -of having <i>felt our unseen passes streaming down the neck</i>.'</p> - -<p>In a similar way, Mr. Bertrand, who was the first (Dr. Carpenter tells -us) to undertake a really scientific investigation of the phenomena -of mesmerism, proved that the supposed effect of a magnetised letter -from him to a female somnambule was entirely the work of her own lively -imagination. He magnetised a letter first, which on receipt was placed -at his suggestion upon the epigastrium of the patient, who was thrown -into the magnetic sleep with all the customary phenomena. He then wrote -another letter, which he did not magnetise, and again the same effect -was produced. Lastly he set about an experiment which should determine -the real state of the case. 'I asked one of my friends,' he says, 'to -write a few lines in my place, and to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> strive to imitate my writing, -so that those who should read the letter should mistake it for mine (I -knew he could do so). He did this; our stratagem succeeded, and the -sleep was produced just as it would have been by one of my own letters.</p> - -<p>It is hardly necessary to say, perhaps, that none of the phenomena -of hypnotism require, as indeed none of them, rightly understood, -suggest, the action of any such occult forces as spiritualists believe -in. On the other hand, I believe that many of the phenomena recorded -by spiritualists as having occurred under their actual observation -are very readily to be explained as phenomena of hypnotism. Of course -I would not for a moment deny that in the great majority of cases -much grosser forms of deception are employed. But in others, and -especially in those where the concentration of the attention for some -time is a necessary preliminary to the exhibition of the phenomena -(which suitable 'subjects' only are privileged to see), I consider the -resulting self-deception as hypnotic.</p> - -<p>We may regard the phenomena of hypnotism in two aspects—first and -chiefly as illustrating the influence of imagination on the functions -of the body; secondly, as showing under what conditions the imagination -may be most readily brought to bear in producing such influence. These -phenomena deserve far closer and at the same time far wider attention -than they have yet received. Doubt has been thrown upon them because -they have been associated with false theories, and in many cases with -fraud and delusion. But, rightly viewed, they are at once instructive -and valuable. On the one hand they throw light on some of the most -interesting problems of mental physiology; on the other they promise to -afford valuable means of curing certain ailments, and of influencing -in useful ways certain powers and functions of the body. All that is -necessary, it should seem, to give hypnotic researches their full -value, is that all association of these purely mental phenomena with -charlatanry and fraud should be abruptly and definitely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> broken off. -Those who make practical application of the phenomena of hypnotism -should not only divest their own minds of all idea that some occult -and as it were extra-natural force is at work, but should encourage no -belief in such force in those on whom the hypnotic method is employed. -Their influence on the patient will not be lessened, I believe, by the -fullest knowledge on the patient's part that all which is to happen to -him is purely natural—that, in fact, advantage is simply to be taken -of an observed property of the imagination to obtain an influence not -otherwise attainable over the body as a whole (as when the so-called -magnetic sleep is to be produced), or over special parts of the body. -Whether advantage might not be taken of other than the curative -influences of hypnotism is a question which will probably have occurred -to some who may have followed the curious accounts given in the -preceding pages. If special powers may be obtained, even for a short -time, by the hypnotised subject, these powers might be systematically -used for other purposes than mere experiment. If, again, the repetition -of hypnotic curative processes eventually leads to a complete and -lasting change in the condition of certain parts or organs of the body, -the repetition of the exercise of special powers during the hypnotic -state may after a while lead to the definite acquisition of such -powers. As it now appears that the hypnotic control may be obtained -without any effort on the part of the operator, the effort formerly -supposed to be required being purely imaginary and the hypnotic state -being in fact readily attainable without any operation whatever, we -seem to recognise possibilities which, duly developed, might be found -of extreme value to the human race. In fine, it would seem that man -possesses a power which has hitherto lain almost entirely dormant, by -which, under the influence of properly-guided imagination, the will -can be so concentrated on special actions that feats of strength, -dexterity, artistic (and even perhaps scientific) skill may be -accomplished by persons who, in the ordinary state, are quite incapable -of such achievements.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="HEREDITARY_TRAITS" id="HEREDITARY_TRAITS"><i>HEREDITARY TRAITS.</i></a></p> - - -<p>In Montaigne's well-known essay on the 'Resemblance of Children to -their Fathers,' the philosopher of Périgord remarks that 'there is -a certain sort of crafty humility that springs from presumption; as -this, for example, that we confess our ignorance in many things, and -are so courteous as to acknowledge that there are in works of nature -some qualities and conditions that are imperceptible to us, and of -which our understanding cannot discern the means and causes; by which -honest declaration we hope to obtain that people shall also believe -us of those that we say we do understand.' 'We need not trouble -ourselves,' he goes on, 'to seek out miracles and strange difficulties; -methinks there are such incomprehensible wonders amongst the things -that we ordinarily see as surpass all difficulties of miracles.' He -applies these remarks to inherited peculiarities of feature, figure, -character, constitution, habits, and so forth. And certainly few of -the phenomena of nature are more wonderful than these, in the sense of -being less obviously referable to any cause which seems competent to -produce them. Many of those natural phenomena which are regarded as -most striking are in this respect not to be compared with the known -phenomena of heredity. The motions of the planets can all be referred -to regular laws; chemical changes are systematic, and their sequence at -least is understood; the phenomena of heat, light, and electricity are -gradually finding interpretation. It is true that all these phenomena -become in a sense as miracles when we en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>deavour to ascertain their -real cause. In their case we can ascertain the 'how,' but in no sense -the 'why.' Gravity is a mastery of mysteries to the astronomer, and -has almost compelled us to believe in that 'action at a distance' -which Newton asserted to be unimaginable by anyone with a competent -power of reasoning about things philosophical. The ultimate cause of -chemical changes is as great a mystery now as it was when the four -elements were believed in. And the nature of the ether itself in which -the undulations of heat, light, and electricity are transmitted is -utterly mysterious even to those students of science who have been most -successful in determining the laws according to which those undulations -proceed. But the phenomena themselves being at once referable (in -our own time at least) to law, have no longer the mysterious and in -a sense miraculous character recognised in them before the laws of -motion, of chemical affinity, of light and heat and electricity, had -been ascertained. It is quite otherwise with the phenomena of heredity. -We know nothing even of the proximate cause of any single phenomenon; -far less of that ultimate cause in which all these phenomena had their -origin. The inheritance of a trait of bodily figure, character, or -manner is a mystery as great as that other and cognate mystery, the -appearance of some seemingly sudden variation in a race which has -for many generations presented an apparently unvarying succession of -attributes, bodily, physical, or mental.</p> - -<p>It need hardly be said that this would not be the place for the -discussion of the problems of heredity and variation, even if in the -present position of science we could hope for any profitable result -from the investigation of either subject. But some of the curious facts -which have been noted by various students of heredity will, I think, -be found interesting; and though not suggesting in the remotest degree -any solution of the real difficulties of the subject, they may afford -some indication of the laws according to which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> parental traits are -inherited, or seemingly sudden variations introduced.</p> - -<p>The commonest, and therefore the least interesting, though perhaps the -most instructive of the phenomena of heredity, are those affecting -the features and the outward configuration of the body. These have -been recognised in all ages and among all nations. A portion of the -Jewish system of legislature was based on a recognition of the law that -children inherit the bodily qualities of the parents. The Greeks noted -the same fact. Among the Spartans, indeed, a system of selection from -among new-born children prevailed, which, though probably intended -only to eliminate the weaker individuals, corresponded closely to -what would be done by a nation having full belief in the efficacy -of both natural and artificial selection, and not troubled with any -strong scruples as to the method of applying their doctrines on such -matters. Among the Romans we find certain families described by their -physical characteristics, as the <i>Nasones</i> or Big-nosed, the <i>Labeones</i> -or Thick-lipped, the <i>Capitones</i> or Big-headed, the <i>Buccones</i> or -Swollen-cheeked. In more recent times similar traits have been -recognised in various families. The Austrian lip and the Bourbon nose -are well-known instances.<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> - -<p>Peculiarities of structure have a double interest, as illustrating both -variation and persistence. We usually find them introduced without any -apparent cause into a family, and afterwards they remain as hereditary -traits, first inherited regularly, then intermittently, and eventually, -in most cases, dying out or becoming so exceptional that their -occurrence is not regarded as an hereditary peculiarity. Montaigne -mentions that in the family of Lepidus, at Rome, there were three, not -successively but by intervals, that were born with the same eye covered -with a cartilage. At Thebes there was a family almost every member of -which had the crown of the head pointed like a lance-head; all whose -heads were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> not so formed being regarded as illegitimate. A better -authenticated case is that of the Lambert family. The peculiarity -affecting this family appeared first in the person of Edward Lambert, -whose whole body, except the face, the palms of the hands, and the -soles of the feet, was covered with a sort of shell consisting of -horny excrescences. He was the father of six children, all of whom, -so soon as they had reached the age of six weeks, presented the same -peculiarity. Only one of them lived. He married, and transmitted the -peculiarity to all his sons. For five generations all the male members -of the Lambert family were distinguished by the horny excrescences -which had adorned the body of Edward Lambert.</p> - -<p>A remarkable instance of the transmission of anomalous characteristics -is found in the case of Andrian Jeftichjew, who, three or four years -ago, was exhibited with his son Fedor Jeftichjew in Berlin and Paris. -They were called in Paris <i>les hommes-chiens</i>, or dog-men, the father's -face being so covered with hair as to present a striking resemblance to -the face of a Skye terrier. Andrian was thus described:—'He is about -fifty-five years of age, and is said to have been the son of a Russian -soldier. In order to escape the derision and the unkind usage of his -fellow-villagers, Andrian in early life fled to the woods, where for -some time he lived in a cave.</p> - -<p>During this period of seclusion he was much given to drunkenness. His -mental condition does not seem to have suffered, however, and he is -on the whole of a kindly and affectionate disposition. It may be of -interest to state that he is an orthodox member of the Russo-Greek -Church, and that, degraded as he is intellectually, he has very -definite notions about heaven and the hereafter. He hopes to introduce -his frightful countenance into the court of heaven, and he devotes all -the money he makes, over and above his outlay for creature comforts, -to purchasing the prayers of a devout community of monks in his native -village, Kostroma, after his mortal career is ended. He is of medium -stature, but very strongly built. His excessive capillary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> development -is not true hair, but simply an abnormal growth of the <i>down</i> or fine -hairs which usually cover nearly the entire surface of the human -body. Strictly speaking, he has neither head-hair, beard, moustache, -eyebrows, nor eyelashes, their place being taken by this singular -growth of long silky down. In colour this is of a dirty yellow; it is -about three inches in length all over the face, and feels like the hair -of a Newfoundland dog. The very eyelids are covered with this long -hair, while flowing locks come out of his nostrils and ears. On his -body are isolated patches, strewed but not thickly with hairs one and -a half to two inches long.' Dr. Bertillon, of Paris, compared a hair -from Andrian's chin with a very fine hair from a man's beard, and found -that the latter was three times as thick as the former; and a hair from -Andrian's head is only one-half as thick as an average human hair. -Professor Virchow, of Berlin, made careful inquiry into the family -history of Andrian Jeftichjew. So far as could be learned, Andrian was -the first in whom this wonderful hirsuteness had been noticed. Neither -his reputed father nor his mother presented any peculiarity of the -kind, and a brother and sister of his, who are still living, are in -no way remarkable for capillary development. The son Fedor, who was -exhibited in company with Andrian, was illegitimate, and about three -years of age. Andrian's legitimate children, a son and a daughter, both -died young. Nothing is known of the former; but the daughter resembled -the father. 'Fedor is a sprightly child,' said the account from which -we have already quoted, 'and appears more intelligent than the father.' -The growth of down on his face is not so heavy as to conceal his -features, but there is no doubt that when the child comes to maturity -he will be at least as hirsute as his parent The hairs are as white -and as soft as the fur of the Angora cat, and are longest at the outer -angles of the eyes. There is a thick tuft between the eyes, and the -nose is well covered. The moustache joins the whiskers on each side, -after the English fashion, and this circumstance gives to accurate -pictures of the child a ludicrous resemblance to a well-fed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> Englishman -of about fifty. As in the father's case, the inside of Fedor's nostrils -and ears has a thick crop of hair.' 'Both father and son are almost -toothless, Andrian having only five teeth, one in the upper jaw and -four in the lower, while the child has only four teeth, all in the -lower jaw. In both cases the four lower teeth are all incisors. To -the right of Andrian's one upper tooth there still remains the mark -of another which has disappeared. That beyond these six teeth the man -never had any others is evident to anyone who feels the gums with the -finger.'</p> - -<p>The deficiency of teeth, accompanied as it is by what is in reality a -deficiency not a redundancy of hair—for Andrian and his son have no -real hair—accords well with Darwin's view, that a constant correlation -exists between hair and teeth. He mentions as an illustration the -deficiency of teeth in hairless dogs. The tusks of the boar, again, are -greatly reduced under domestication, and the reduction is accompanied -by a corresponding diminution of the bristles. He mentions also the -case of Julia Pastrana, a Spanish dancer or opera singer, who had a -thick masculine beard and a hairy forehead, while her teeth were so -redundant that her mouth projected, and her face had a gorilla-like -appearance. It should rather be said that in general those creatures -which present an abnormal development in the covering of their skin, -whether in the way of redundancy or deficiency, present, generally, -perhaps always, an abnormal dental development, as we see in sloths and -armadilloes on the one hand, which have the front teeth deficient, and -in some branches of the whale family on the other, in which the teeth -are redundant either in number or in size. In individual members of the -human family it certainly is not always the case that the development -of the hair and that of the teeth are directly correlated; for some -who are bald when quite young have excellent teeth, and some who have -lost most of their teeth while still on the right side of forty have -excellent hair to an advanced age.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span><a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p> - -<p>Another case, somewhat similar to that of Andrian and his son, is found -in a Burmese family, living at Ava, and first described by Crawford in -1829. Shwe-Maong, the head of the family, was about thirty years old. -His whole body was covered with silky hairs, which attained a length of -nearly five inches on the shoulders and spine. He had four daughters, -but only one of them resembled him. She was living at Ava in 1855, and, -according to the account given by a British officer who saw her there, -she had a son who was hairy like his grandfather, Shwe-Maong. The case -of this family illustrates rather curiously the relation between the -hair and teeth. For Shwe-Maong retained his milk-teeth till he was -twenty years old (when he attained puberty), and they were replaced by -nine teeth only, five in the upper and four in the lower jaw. Eight of -these were incisors, the ninth (in the upper jaw) being a canine tooth.</p> - -<p>Sex-digitism, or the possession of hands and feet with six digits -each, has occurred in several families as a sudden variation from -the normal formation, but after it has appeared has usually been -transmitted for several generations. In the case of the Colburn family -this peculiarity lasted for four generations without interruption, and -still reappears occasionally. In a branch of a well-known Scotch family -sex-digitism—after continuing for three or four generations—has -apparently disappeared; but it still frequently happens that the edge -of the hands on the side of the little finger is partially deformed.</p> - -<p>Hare-lip, albinism, halting, and other peculiarities, commonly reappear -for four or five generations, and are seldom altogether eradicated in -less than ten or twelve.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> - -<p>The tendency to variation shown in the introduction of these -peculiarities, even though they may have been eventually eradicated, is -worth noticing in its bearing on our views respecting the formation of -new and persistent varieties of the human as of other races. It must be -noticed that in the case of the human race the conditions not only do -not favour the continuance of such varieties, but practically forbid -their persistence. It is otherwise with some varieties, at least, of -domestic animals, insomuch that varieties which present any noteworthy -even though accidentally observed advantage have been made practically -persistent; we say practically, because there seems little reason to -doubt that in every case which has hitherto been observed the normal -type would eventually be reverted to if special pains were not taken to -separate the normal from the abnormal form.</p> - -<p>An excellent illustration of the difference between the human race and -a race of animals under domestication, in this particular respect, is -found in the case of the Kelleia family on the one hand, and that of -the Ancon or Otter sheep on the other.</p> - -<p>The former case is described by Réaumur. A Maltese couple named -Kelleia, whose hands and feet were of the ordinary type, had a son -Gratio who had six movable fingers on each hand and six somewhat less -perfect toes on each foot. Gratio Kelleia married a woman possessing -only the ordinary number of fingers and toes. There were four children -of this marriage—Salvator, George, André, and Marie. Salvator had six -fingers and six toes like the father; George and André had each five -fingers and five toes like the mother, but the hands and feet of George -were slightly deformed; Marie had five fingers and five toes, but her -thumbs were slightly deformed. All four children grew up, and married -folk with the ordinary number of fingers and toes. The children of -André alone (who were many) were without exception of the normal type, -like their father. The children of Salvator, who alone was six-fingered -and six-toed like Gratio the grandfather, were four in number; three -of them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> resembled the father, while the other—the youngest—was -of the normal type like his mother and grandmother. As these four -children were the descendants of four grandparents of whom one only was -hexadactylic, we see that the variety had been strong enough in their -case to overcome the normal type in threefold greater strength. But -the strangest part of the story is that relating to George and Marie. -George, who was a pentadactyle, though somewhat deformed about the -hands and feet, was the father of four children: first, two girls, both -purely hexadactylic; next, a girl hexadactylic on the right side of -the body and pentadactylic on the left side; and lastly, a boy, purely -pentadactylic. Marie, a pentadactyle with deformed thumbs, gave birth -to a boy with six toes, and three normally formed children. It will be -seen, however, that the normal type showed itself in greater force than -the variety in the third generation from Gratio: for while one child -of Salvator's, one of George's, three of Marie's, and all of André's -(some seven or eight) were of the normal type—twelve or thirteen -in all—only five, viz., three of Salvator's and two of George's, -presented the variety purely. Three others were more or less abnormally -formed in fingers and toes; but even counting these, the influence of -the variety was shown only in eight of the grandchildren of Gratio, -whereas twelve or thirteen were of the normal type.</p> - -<p>The story of the Ancon or Otter sheep, as narrated by Colonel -David Humphreys in a letter to Sir Joseph Banks, published in the -<i>Philosophical Transactions</i> for 1813, has been thus abridged by -Huxley:—'It appears that one Seth Wright, the proprietor of a farm on -the banks of the Charles River, in Massachusetts, possessed a flock -of fifteen ewes and a ram of the ordinary kind. In the year 1791 one -of the ewes presented her owner with a male lamb differing, for no -assignable reason, from its parents by a disproportionately long body -and short bandy legs; whence it was unable to emulate its relatives in -those sportive leaps over the neighbours' fences in which they were -in the habit of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> indulging, much to the good farmer's vexation. With -the "cuteness" characteristic of their nation, the neighbours of the -Massachusetts farmer imagined it would be an excellent thing if all -his sheep were imbued with the stay-at-home tendencies enforced by -Nature upon the newly-arrived ram; and they advised Wright to kill -the old patriarch of his fold and instal the new Ancon ram in his -place. The result justified their sagacious anticipations.... The -young lambs were almost always either pure Ancons or pure ordinary -sheep. But when sufficient Ancon sheep were obtained to interbreed -with one another, it was found that the offspring were always pure -Ancon. Colonel Humphreys, in fact, states that he was acquainted with -only "one questionable case of a contrary nature." By taking care to -select Ancons of both sexes for breeding from, it thus became easy to -establish an exceedingly well-marked race—so peculiar that even when -herded with other sheep, it was noted that the Ancons kept together. -And there is every reason to believe that the existence of this breed -might have been indefinitely protracted: but the introduction of the -Merino sheep—which were not only very superior to the Ancons in wool -and meat, but quite as quiet and orderly—led to the complete neglect -of the new breed, so that in 1813 Colonel Humphreys found it difficult -to obtain the specimen whose skeleton was presented to Sir Joseph -Banks. We believe that for many years no remnant of it has existed in -the United States.'</p> - -<p>It is easy, as Huxley remarks, to understand why, whereas Gratio -Kelleia did not become the ancestor of a race of six-figured and -six-toed men, Seth Wright's Ancon ram became a nation of long-bodied, -short-legged sheep. If the purely hexadactylic descendants of Gratio -Kelleia, and all the purely hexadactylic members of the Colburn family, -in the third and fourth generations, had migrated to some desert -island, and had been careful not only to exclude all visitors having -the normal number of fingers and toes, but to send away before the -age of puberty all children of their own which might depart in any -degree<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> from the pure hexadactylic type, there can be no doubt that -under favourable conditions the colony would have become a nation -of six-fingered folk. Among such a nation the duodecimal system -of notation would flourish, and some remarkable performers on the -pianoforte, flute, and other instruments, might be looked for; but we -do not know that they would possess any other advantage over their -pentadactylic contemporaries. Seeing that the system of colonising -above described is antecedently unlikely, and that no special advantage -could be derived from the persistence of any hitherto known abnormal -variety of the human race, it is unlikely that for many generations -yet to come we shall hear of six-fingered, hairy-faced, horny-skinned, -or hare-lipped nations. The only peculiarities which have any chance -of becoming permanent are such as, while not very uncommon, stand -in the way of intermarriage with persons not similarly affected. -A similar remark, as will presently appear, applies to mental and -moral characteristics. The law according to which contrast is found -attractive and similitude repugnant, though wide in its range, is not -universal; and there are cases in which resemblance, if it has not -the charm found (under ordinary circumstances) in contrast, is yet a -necessary element in matrimonial alliances.</p> - -<p>The inheritance of constitutional traits comes next to be considered. -It is probably not less frequently observed, and is in several respects -more interesting than the inheritance of peculiarities of bodily -configuration.</p> - -<p>Longevity, which may be regarded as measuring the aggregate -constitutional energy, is well known to be hereditary in certain -families, as is short duration of life in other families. The best -proof that this is the case is found in the action of insurance -companies, in ascertaining through their agents the longevity of the -ancestors of persons proposing to insure their lives. Instances of -longevity during several successive generations are too common to -be worth citing. Cases in which, for generation after generation, a -certain age, far short of the threescore years and ten, has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> not been -passed, even when all the circumstances have favoured longevity, are -more interesting. One of the most curious among these is the case of -the Turgot family, in which the age of fifty-nine had not been for -generations exceeded, to the time when Turgot made the name famous. -At the age of fifty, when he was in excellent health, and apparently -had promise of many years of life, he expressed to his friends his -conviction that the end of his life was near at hand. From that time -forward he held himself prepared for death, and, as we know, he died -before he had completed his fifty-fourth year.</p> - -<p>Fecundity is associated sometimes with longevity, but in other cases it -is as significantly associated with short duration of life. Of families -in which many children are born but few survive, we naturally have -less striking evidence than we have of families in which many children -of strong constitutions are born for several successive generations. -What may be called the fecundity of the short-lived is a quality -commonly leading in no long time to the disappearance of the family -in which it makes its appearance. It is the reverse, of course, with -fecundity in families whose members show individually great vigour of -constitution and high vital power. Ribot mentions several cases of this -sort among the families of the old French <i>noblesse</i>. Thus Anne de -Montmorency—who, despite his feminine name, was certainly by no means -feminine in character (at the Battle of St. Denis, in his sixty-sixth -year, he smashed with his sword the teeth of the Scotch soldier who was -giving him his death-blow) was the father of twelve children. Three of -his ancestors, Matthew I., Matthew II., and Matthew III., had, in all, -eighteen children, of whom fifteen were boys. 'The son and grandson of -the great Condé had nineteen between them, and their great-grandfather, -who lost his life at Jarnac, had ten. The first four Guises reckoned -in all forty-three children, of whom thirty were boys. Achille de -Harley had nine children, his father ten, and his great-grandfather -eighteen.' In the family of the Herschels in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> Hanover and in England, a -similar fecundity has been shown in two generations out of three. Sir -W. Herschel was one of a family of twelve children, of whom five were -sons. He himself did not marry till his fiftieth year, and had only one -son. But Sir John Herschel was the father of eleven children.</p> - -<p>Of constitutional peculiarities those affecting the nervous system -are most frequently transmitted. We do not, however, consider them -at this point, because they are viewed ordinarily rather as they -relate to mental and moral characteristics than as affections of -the body. The bodily affections most commonly transmitted are those -depending on what is called diathesis—a general state or disposition -of the constitution predisposing to some special disease. Such are -scrofula, cancer, tubercular consumption, gout, arthritis, and some -diseases specially affecting the skin. It would not be desirable to -discuss here this particular part of our subject, interesting though -it undoubtedly is. But it may be worth while to note that we have, -in the variety of forms in which the same constitutional bad quality -may present itself, evidence that what is actually transmitted is not -a peculiarity affecting a particular organ, even though in several -successive generations the disease may show itself in the same part of -the body, but an affection of the constitution generally. We have here -an answer to the question asked by Montaigne in the essay from which -we have already quoted. The essay was written soon after he had for -the first time experienced the pangs of renal calculus:—''Tis to be -believed,' he says, 'that I derived this infirmity from my father, for -he died wonderfully tormented' with it; he was 'never sensible of his -disease till the sixty-seventh year of his age, and before that had -never felt any grudging or symptom of it' ... 'but lived till then in -a happy vigorous state of health, little subject to infirmities, and -continued seven years after in this disease, and dyed a very painful -death. I was born about twenty-five years before his disease seized -him, and in the time of his most flourishing and healthful state of -body, his third child in order of birth: where could his propension -to this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> malady lie lurking all that while? And he being so far from -the infirmity, how could that small part of his substance carry away -so great an impression of its share? And how so concealed that, till -five-and-forty years after, I did not begin to be sensible of it? being -the only one to this hour, amongst so many brothers and sisters, and -all of one mother, that was ever troubled with it. He that can satisfie -me in this point, I will believe him in as many other miracles as he -pleases, always provided that, as their manner is, he does not give me -a doctrine much more intricate and fantastic than the thing itself, for -current pay.' When we note, however, that in many cases the children -of persons affected like the elder Montaigne are not affected like -the parents, but with other infirmities, as the tendency to gout, -and <i>vice versâ</i> (a circumstance of which I myself have but too good -reason to be cognisant, a parent's tendency to gout having in my case -been transmitted in the modified but even more troublesome form of -the disease which occasioned Montaigne so much anguish), we perceive -that it is not 'some small part of the substance' which transmits its -condition to the child, but the general state of the constitution. -Moreover, it may be hoped in many cases (which would scarcely be the -case if the condition or qualities of some part of the body only were -transmitted) that the germs of disease, or rather the predisposition -to disease, may be greatly diminished, or even entirely eradicated, by -suitable precautions. Thus persons inheriting a tendency to consumption -have become, in many cases, vigorous and healthy by passing as much -of their time as possible in the open air, by avoiding crowded and -over-heated rooms, taking moderate but regular exercise, judicious -diet, and so forth. We believe that the disease which troubled the -last fifteen years of the life of Montaigne might readily have been -prevented, and the tendency to it eradicated, during his youth.</p> - -<p>Let us turn, however, from these considerations to others more -interesting, though less important, and on the whole perhaps better -suited to these pages.</p> - -<p>The inheritance of tricks or habits is one of the most per<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>plexing -of all the phenomena of heredity. The less striking the habit, the -more remarkable, perhaps, is its persistence as an inherited trait. -Giron de Buzareingues states that he knew a man who, when he lay on -his back, was wont to throw his right leg across the left; one of -this person's daughters had the same habit from her birth, constantly -assuming that position in the cradle, notwithstanding the resistance -offered by the swaddling bands.<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> Darwin mentions another case in -his <i>Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication</i>:—A child -had the odd habit of setting its fingers in rapid motion whenever it -was particularly pleased with anything. When greatly excited, the same -child would raise the hand on both sides as high as the eyes, with the -fingers in rapid motion as before. Even in old age he experienced a -difficulty in refraining from these gestures. He had eight children, -one of whom, a little girl, when four<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> years of age, used to set her -fingers going, and to lift up her hands after the manner of her father. -A still more remarkable case is described by Galton. A gentleman's wife -noticed that when he lay fast asleep on his back in bed he had the -curious trick of raising his right arm slowly in front of his face, -up to his forehead, and then dropping it with a jerk, so that the -wrist fell heavily on the bridge of his nose. The trick did not occur -every night, but occasionally, and was independent of any ascertained -cause. Sometimes it was repeated incessantly for an hour or more. The -gentleman's nose was prominent, and its bridge often became sore from -blows which it received. At one time an awkward sore was produced -that was long in healing, on account of the recurrence, night after -night, of the blows which first caused it. His wife had to remove the -button from the wrist of his night-gown, as it made severe scratches, -and some means were attempted of tying his arm. Many years after -his death, his son married a lady who had never heard of the family -incident. She, however, observed precisely the same peculiarity in her -husband; but his nose, from not being particularly prominent, has never -as yet suffered from the blows. The trick does not occur when he is -half asleep, as, for example, when he is dozing in his arm-chair; but -the moment he is fast asleep, he is apt to begin. It is, as with his -father, intermittent; sometimes ceasing for many nights, and sometimes -almost incessant during a part of every night. It is performed, as it -was with his father, with his right hand. One of his children, a girl, -has inherited the same trick. She performs it, likewise, with the right -hand, but in a slightly modified form; for after raising the arm, she -does not allow the wrist to drop upon the bridge of the nose, but the -palm of her half-closed hand falls over and down the nose, striking it -rather rapidly—a decided improvement on the father's and grandfather's -method. The trick is intermittent in this girl's case also, sometimes -not occurring for periods of several months but sometimes almost -incessantly.</p> - -<p>Strength in particular limbs or muscles is often trans<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>mitted -hereditarily. So also is skill in special exercises. Thus in the north -country there are families of famous wrestlers. Among professional -oarsmen, again, we may note such cases as the Clasper family in the -north, the Mackinneys in the south; while among amateur oarsmen we have -the case of the Playford family, to which the present amateur champion -sculler belongs. In cricket, the Walker family and the Grace family -may be cited among amateurs, the Humphreys among professional players. -Grace in dancing was transmitted for three generations in the Vestris -family. It must, however, be noted that in some of these cases we may -fairly consider that example and teaching have had much to do with the -result. Take rowing for instance. A good oarsman will impart his style -to a whole crew if he rows stroke for them; and even if he only trains -them (as Morrison, for instance, trained the Cambridge crew a few years -ago), he will make good oarsmen of men suitably framed and possessing -ordinary aptitude for rowing. I remember well how a famous stroke-oar -at Cambridge (John Hall, of Magdalen,) imparted to one at least of the -University crew (a fellow-collegian of his, and therefore rowing with -him constantly also in his College boat) so exact an imitation of his -style that one rather dusky evening, when the latter was 'stroking' a -scratch four past a throng of University men, a dispute arose as to -which of the two was really stroke of the four. Anyone who knows how -characteristic commonly is the rowing of any first-class stroke, and -still more anyone who chances to know how peculiar was the style of the -University 'stroke-oar' referred to, will understand how closely his -style must have been adopted, when experienced oarsmen, not many yards -from the passing four, were unable to decide at once which of the two -men were rowing,—even though the evening was dusky enough to prevent -the features of the stroke (whose face was not fully in view at the -moment) from being discerned. Seeing that a first-rate oarsman can thus -communicate his style so perfectly to another, it cannot be regarded as -demonstrably a case of hereditary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> transmission if the Claspers rowed -in the same style as their father, or if the present champion amateur -sculler (making allowances for the change introduced by the sliding -seat) rows very much like his father and his uncle.</p> - -<p>Some peculiarities, such as stammering, lisping, babbling, and the -like, are not easily referable to any special class of hereditary -traits, because it is not clear how far they are to be regarded as -depending on bodily or how far on mental peculiarities. It might seem -obvious that stammering was in most cases uncontrollable by the will, -and babbling might seem as certainly controllable. Yet there are cases -which throw doubt on either conclusion. Thus, Dr. Lucas tells us of -a servant-maid whose loquacity was apparently quite uncontrollable. -She would talk to people till they were ready to faint; and if there -were no human being to listen to her, she would talk to animals and -inanimate objects, or would talk aloud to herself. She had to be -discharged. 'But,' she said to her master, 'I am not to blame; it all -comes from my father. He had the same fault, and it drove my mother -to distraction; and his father was just the same.' Stammering has -been transmitted through as many as five generations. The same has -been noticed of peculiarities of vision. The Montmorency look, a sort -of half squint, affected nearly all the members of the Montmorency -family. The peculiarity called Daltonism, an inability to distinguish -between certain colours of the spectrum, was not so named, as is often -asserted, merely because the distinguished chemist Dalton was affected -by it, but because three members of the same family were similarly -affected. Deafness and blindness are not commonly hereditary where -the parents have lost sight or hearing either by accident or through -illness, even though the illness or accident occur during infancy; but -persons born either blind or deaf frequently if not commonly transmit -the defect to some at least among their offspring. Similar remarks -apply to deaf-mutism.</p> - -<p>The senses of taste and smell must also be included in the list of -those which are affected by transmitted peculiari<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>ties. If we include -the craving for liquor among such peculiarities, we might at once -cite a long list of cases; but this craving must be regarded as -nervo-psychical, the sense of taste having in reality very little to -do with it. It is doubtful how the following hideous instance should -be classed. It is related by Dr. Lucas. 'A man in Scotland had an -irresistible desire to eat human flesh. He had a daughter; although -removed from her father and mother, who were both sent to the stake -before she was a year old, and although brought up among respectable -people, this girl, like her father, yielded to the horrible craving for -human flesh.' He must be an ardent student of physiological science who -regrets that at this stage circumstances intervened which prevented the -world from ascertaining whether the peculiarity would have descended to -the third and fourth generations.</p> - -<p>Amongst the strangest cases of hereditary transmissions are those -relating to handwriting. Darwin cites several curious instances in -his <i>Variation of Plants and Animals under Domestication</i>. 'On what -a curious combination of corporeal structure, mental character, and -training,' he remarks, 'must handwriting depend. Yet everyone must have -noted the occasional close similarity of the handwriting in father and -son, even although the father had not taught the son. A great collector -of franks assured me that in his collection there were several franks -of father and son hardly distinguishable except by their dates.' -Hofacker, in Germany, remarks on the inheritance of handwriting, and it -has been even asserted that English boys when taught to write in France -naturally cling to their English manner of writing. Dr. Carpenter -mentions the following instance as having occurred in his own family, -as showing that the character of the handwriting is independent of -the special teaching which the right hand receives in this art:—'A -gentleman who emigrated to the United States and settled in the back -woods, before the end of last century, was accustomed from time to time -to write long letters to his sister in England, giving an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> account -of his family affairs. Having lost his right arm by an accident, the -correspondence was temporarily kept up by one or other of his children; -but in the course of a few months he learned to write with his left -hand, and before long, the handwriting of the letters thus written came -to be indistinguishable from that of his former letters.'</p> - -<p>I had occasion two or three years ago to consider in an article on -'Strange Mental Feats,' in my <i>Science Byeways</i>, the question of -inherited mental qualities and artistic habits, and would refer the -reader for some remarkable instances of transmitted powers to that -article.<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> Galton in his work on <i>Hereditary Genius</i>, and Ribot in -his treatise on <i>Heredity</i>, have collected many facts bearing on this -interesting question. Both writers show a decided bias in favour of -a view which would give to heredity a rather too important position -among the factors of genius. Cases are cited which seem very little -to the purpose, and multitudes of instances are omitted which oppose -themselves, at a first view at any rate, to the belief that heredity -plays the first part in the genesis of great minds. Nearly all the -greatest names in philosophy, literature, and science, and a great -number of the greatest names in art, stand absolutely alone. We know -nothing achieved by the father or grandfather of Shakspeare, or of -Goethe, or Schiller, or Evans (George Eliot), or Thackeray, or Dickens, -or Huxley. None of Newton's family were in any way distinguished in -mathematical or scientific work; nor do we know of a distinguished -Laplace, or Lagrange, or Lavoisier, or Harvey, or Dalton, or Volta, -or Faraday, besides those who made these names illustrious. As to -general literature, page after page might be filled with the mere -names of those whose ancestry has been quite undistinguished. To say -that among the ancestors of Goethe, Schiller, Byron, and so forth, -certain qualities, virtues or vices, passions or insensibilities to -passion, may be recognised 'among the ancestors of men of science, -certain aptitudes for special subjects or methods of research,' among<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> -the ancestors of philosophers and literary men certain qualities or -capabilities, and that such ancestral peculiarities determined the -poetic, scientific, or literary genius of the descendant, is in reality -to little purpose, for there is probably not a single family possessing -claims to culture in any civilised country among the members of which -individuals might not be found with qualities thus emphasised so to -speak. Such <i>à posteriori</i> reasoning is valueless. If instances could -be so classified that after carefully studying them we could make -even the roughest approach to a guess respecting the cases in which a -family might be expected to produce men of any particular qualities, -there would be some use in these attempts at generalisation; at present -all that can be said is that some mental qualities and some artistic -aptitudes have unquestionably in certain instances been transmitted, -and that on the whole men of great distinction in philosophy, -literature, science, and art, are rather more likely than others to -have among their relations (more or less remote) persons somewhat above -the average in mental or artistic qualities. But it is not altogether -certain that this superiority is even quite so great as it might be -expected to be if hereditary transmission played no part at all in -the matter. For it cannot be denied that a great mathematician's son -has rather a better chance than others of being a mathematician, a -great author's son of being a writer, a great artist's son of being -skilful in art, a great philosopher's son of taking philosophic views -of things. Nearly every son looks forward while still young to the -time when he shall be doing his father's work; nearly every father -hopes while his children are yet young that some at least among them -will follow his pursuits. The fact that so few sons of great men do -follow in their fathers' footsteps shows that, despite the strong -ambition of the son and the anxious hope of the father, the son in the -majority of instances has not had ability even to take a fairly good -position in the work wherein the father has been perhaps pre-eminently -distinguished.</p> - -<p>I have said that certain mental qualities have certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> been -transmitted in some cases. Galton mentions one noteworthy instance -relating to memory. In the family of Porson good memory was so notable -a faculty as to give rise to the byword, 'the Porson memory.' Lady -Hester Stanhope, says the late F. Papillon, 'she whose life was so -full of adventure, gives, as one among many points of resemblance -between herself and her grandfather, her retentive memory. "I have my -grandfather's grey eyes," said she, "and his memory of places. If he -saw a stone on the road, he remembered it; it is the same with myself. -His eye, which was ordinarily dull and lustreless, was lighted up, like -my own, with a dull gleam whenever he was seized with passion."'</p> - -<p>In endeavouring to form an opinion on the law of heredity in its -relation to genius, we must remember that a remark somewhat similar to -one made by Huxley respecting the origin of new species applies to the -origin of a man of genius. Before such a man became celebrated no one -cared particularly to inquire about his ancestry or relations; when -his fame was established, the time for making the inquiry had passed -away. It is quite possible that, if we had exact and full information, -in a great number of cases we might find the position taken up by Mr -Galton and M. Ribot greatly strengthened; it is, however, also possible -that we might find it much weakened, not only by the recognition of a -multitude of cases in which the approach of a great man was in no sort -indicated by scintillations of brightness along the genealogical track, -but by a yet greater number of cases in which families containing -numbers of clever, witty, and learned folks have produced none who -attained real distinction.</p> - -<p>There is an excellent remark in a thoughtful but anonymous paper on -Heredity in the <i>Quarterly Journal of Science</i>, two years or so ago, -which suggests some considerations well worth noting. 'If we look,' -says the writer, 'on the intellect as not a single force but a complex -of faculties, we shall find little to perplex us in the phenomenon of -spontaneity'—that is (in this case), in the appearance of a man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> of -genius in a family not before remarkable in any way. 'Suppose a family -who have possessed some of the attributes of greatness, but who, in -virtue of a principle equally true in psychology and in mechanics, -that "nothing is stronger than its weakest part," has remained in -obscurity. Let a man of this family marry a woman whose faculties are -the complement of his own. It is possible that a child of such a couple -may combine the defects or weaknesses of both parents, and we have -then the case of spontaneous imbecility or criminality. But it is also -possible that he may combine the excellences of both, and burst upon -the world as a spontaneous genius.... Again, we must remember that, -even if we consider the intellect as "one and indivisible," it is far -from being the only faculty needful for the attainment of excellence, -even in the fields of pure science. Combined with it there must be the -moral faculties of patience, perseverance, and concentration. The will -must be strong enough to overcome all distracting temptations, whether -in themselves good or evil. Lastly, there must be constitutional energy -and endurance. Failing these, the man will merely leave among his -friends the conviction that he might have achieved greatness, if——. -We once knew a physician, resident in a small country town, who from -time to time startled his associates by some profound and suggestive -idea, some brilliant <i>aperçu</i>. But a constitutional languor prevented -him from ever completing an investigation, or from leaving the world -one written line.'</p> - -<p>The effect of circumstances also must not be overlooked. It is certain -that some of those who stand highest in the world's repute would have -done nothing to make their names remembered but for circumstances -which either aided their efforts or compelled them to exertion; and -it cannot be doubted, therefore, that many who have been by no means -celebrated have required but favouring opportunities or the spur of -adverse circumstances to have achieved distinction. We note the cases -in which men who have been intended by their parents for the desk or -routine work have fortunately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> been freed for nobler work, to which -their powers have specially fitted them. But we are apt to forget that -for each such case there must be many instances in which no fortunate -chance has intervened. The theory that genius <i>will</i> make its way, -despite all obstacles, is like the popular notion that 'murder will -out,' and other such fancies. We note when events happen which favour -such notions, but we not only do not note—in the very nature of things -it is impossible that we should have the chance of noting—cases -unfavourable to a notion which, after all, is but a part of the general -and altogether erroneous idea that what we think ought to be, will be. -That among millions of men in a civilised community, trained under -multitudinous conditions, for diverse professions, trades, and so -forth, exposed to many vicissitudes of fortune, good and bad, there -should be men from time to time—</p> - -<p style="margin-left:30%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who break their birth's invidious bar,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And grasp the skirts of happy chance,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And breast the blows of circumstance,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And grapple with their evil star,</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>is no truer proof of the general theory that genius will make its mark, -despite circumstance, than is the occasional occurrence of strange -instances in which murder has been detected despite seemingly perfect -precautions.</p> - -<p>It must, however, be in a general sense admitted that mental powers, -like bodily powers, are inherited. If the ancestry of men of genius -could be traced, we should in each case probably find enough, in the -history of some line at least along which descent could be traced, to -account for the possession of special powers, and enough in the history -of that and other lines of descent to account for the other qualities -or characteristics which, combined with those special powers, gave to -the man's whole nature the capacity by which he was enabled to stand -above the average level of his fellow-men. We might, with knowledge at -once wider and deeper than we actually possess of the various families<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> -of each nation, and their relationships, predict in many cases, not -that any given child would prove a genius, but that some one or other -of a family would probably rise to distinction. To predict the advent -of a man of great genius as we predict the approach of an eclipse or a -transit, will doubtless never be in men's power; but it is conceivable -that at some perhaps not very remote epoch, anticipations may be formed -somewhat like those which astronomers are able to make respecting the -recurrence of meteoric showers at particular times and seasons, and -visible in particular regions. Already we know so much as this, that -in certain races of men only can special forms of mental energy, like -special bodily characteristics, be expected to appear. It may well be -that hereafter such anticipations may be limited to special groups of -families.</p> - -<p>When we pass from mental to moral qualities, we find ourselves in -the presence of problems which could not be thoroughly dealt with in -these pages. The general question, how far the moral characteristics -of each person born into the world depends on those of the parents, or -more generally of the ancestry, is one involving many considerations -which, perhaps unfortunately, have been associated with religious -questions. And apart from this, the answers to this question have been -found to have a very wide range—from the opinion of those who (like -Miss Martineau) consider that our characters, even where they seem -to undergo changes resulting from the exercise of will, are entirely -due to inheritance, to the view of those who consider, like Heinroth, -that no moral characteristic can possibly be regarded as inherited -in such sort as to modify either responsibility for evil-doing or -credit for well-doing. Probably most will be content to accept a view -between these extremes, without too nicely considering how far moral -responsibility is affected by the influence of inherited tendencies.</p> - -<p>There are, however, some illustrations relating to exceptional habits, -which may be mentioned here without bringing in the general question.</p> - -<p>I have not referred to insanity in speaking of inherited<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> mental -qualities, because insanity must be regarded as a disease of the moral -rather than of the mental nature. Its origin may be in the mind, as -the origin of mental diseases is in the brain, that is, is in the -body; but the principal manifestations of insanity, those which must -guide us in determining its true position, are unquestionably those -relating to moral habitudes. Insanity is not always, or at least not -always demonstrably hereditary. Esquirol found among 1,375 lunatics 337 -unquestionable cases of hereditary transmission. Guislain and others -regard hereditary lunacy as including, roughly, one-fourth of the cases -of insanity. Moreau and others hold that the proportion is greater. It -appears, however, that mental alienation is not the only form in which -the insanity of an ancestor may manifest itself. Dr. Morel gives the -following instructive illustration of the 'varied and odd complications -occurring in the hereditary transmission of nervous disease.' He -attended four brothers belonging to one family. The grandfather of -these children had died insane; their father had never been able to -continue long at anything; their uncle, a man of great intellect and a -distinguished physician, was noted for his eccentricities. Now these -four children, sprung from one stock, presented very different forms -of physical disorder. One of them was a maniac, whose wild paroxysms -occurred periodically. The disorder of the second was melancholy -madness; he was reduced by his stupor to a merely automatic condition. -The third was characterised by an extreme irascibility and suicidal -disposition. The fourth manifested a strong liking for art; but he was -of a timorous and suspicious nature. This story seems in some degree to -give support to the theory that genius and mental aberration are not -altogether alien; that, in fact,</p> - -<p style="margin-left:30%;"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Great wit to madness nearly is allied,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And thin partitions do their bounds divide.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Of the hereditary transmission of idiotcy we naturally have not the -same kind of evidence. Madness often, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> not generally, comes on or -shows itself late in life, whereas idiotcy is not often developed in -the adult. Insanity is the diseased or weakened condition of a mind -possessing all the ordinary thinking faculties; idiotcy implies that -some of these faculties are altogether wanting. It has been asserted, -by the way, that idiotcy is a product of civilisation. The civilised -'present, as peoples,' says Dr. Duncan, 'indications of defective vital -force, which are not witnessed among those human beings that live in -a state of nature. There must be something rotten in some parts of -our boasted civilisation: and not only a something which has to do -with our psychology, but a great deal more with our power of physical -persistence. It is a fact that the type of the perfect minded, just -above the highest idiots, or the simpletons, is more distinguishable -amongst the most civilised of the civilised than among those who are -the so-called children of nature. Dolts, boobies, stupids, <i>et hoc -genus omne</i>, abound in young Saxondom; but their representatives are -rare amongst the tribes that are slowly disappearing before the white -man.' But it seems barely possible that the difference may be due to -the care with which civilised communities interfere to prevent the -elimination of idiot infants by the summary process of destroying them. -The writer from whom I have just quoted refers to the fact that, even -under the Roman Empire, as during the Republic, idiots were looked upon -as 'useless entities by the practical Roman.' They had no sanctity in -his eyes, and hence their probable rarity; doubtless the unfortunate -children were neglected, and there is much reason for believing that -they were 'exposed.' 'A congenital idiot soon begins to give trouble,' -proceeds Dr. Duncan, 'and to excite unusual attention; and, moreover, -unless extra care is given to it, death is sure to ensue in early -childhood.' May not idiot children in savage communities have an even -worse chance of survival than under the Roman Empire? and may not -dolts, boobies, and stupids, <i>et hoc genus omne</i>, among savages, have -such inferior chances in the infantine and later in the adult struggle -for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> existence, that we may explain thus the comparative rarity of -these varieties in savage communities? It certainly does not seem to -have been proved as yet that civilisation <i>per se</i> is favourable to the -development of insanity.</p> - -<p>The liking for strong drink, as is too well known, is often -transmitted. It is remarked by Dr. Howe that 'the children of drunkards -are deficient in bodily and vital energy, and are predisposed by their -very organisation to have cravings for alcoholic stimulants. If they -pursue the course of their fathers, which they have more temptation -to follow and less power to avoid than the children of the temperate, -they add to their hereditary weakness, and increase the tendency to -idiotcy or insanity in their constitution; and this they leave to their -children after them.' Whatever opinion we may form on the general -question of responsibility for offences of commission or of omission, -on this special point all who are acquainted with the facts must -agree, admitting that in some cases of inherited craving for alcoholic -stimulants the responsibility of those who have failed and fallen in -the struggle has been but small. 'The fathers have eaten sour grapes, -and the children's teeth are set on edge.' Robert Collyer of Chicago, -in his noble sermon 'The Thorn in the Flesh,' has well said, 'In the -far-reaching influences that go to every life, and away backward as -certainly as forward, children are sometimes born with appetites -fatally strong in their nature. As they grow up the appetite grows with -them, and speedily becomes a master, the master a tyrant; and by the -time he arrives at manhood, the man is a slave. I heard a man say that -for eight-and-twenty years the soul within him had had to stand like -an unsleeping sentinel, guarding his appetite for strong drink. To be -a man at last under such a disadvantage, not to mention a saint, is as -fine a piece of grace as can well be seen. There is no doctrine that -demands a larger vision than this of the depravity of human nature. Old -Dr. Mason used to say that "as much grace as would make John a saint, -would hardly keep Peter from knocking a man down."'</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> - -<p>There are some curious stories of special vices transmitted from -parent to child, which, if true, are exceedingly significant, to say -the least.<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> Gama Machado relates that a lady with whom he was -acquainted, who possessed a large fortune, had a passion for gambling -and passed whole nights at play. 'She died young,' he proceeds, 'of a -pulmonary complaint. Her eldest son who was in appearance the image -of his mother, had the same passion for play. He died of consumption -like his mother, and at the same age; his daughter who resembled him, -inherited the same tastes, and died young.' Hereditary predisposition -to theft, murder, and suicide, has been demonstrated in several cases. -But the world at large is naturally indisposed to recognise congenital -tendency to crime as largely diminishing responsibility for offences -or attempted offences of this kind. So far as the general interests -of the community are concerned, the demonstrated fact that a thief or -murderer has <i>inherited</i> his unpleasant tendency should be a <i>raison de -plus</i> for preventing the tendency from being transmitted any farther. -In stamping out the hereditary ruffian or rascal by life imprisonment, -we not only get rid of the 'grown serpent' but of the worm which</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 30%;">Hath nature that in time would venom breed.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> - -<p>An illustration of the policy at least (we do not say the justice) -of preventive measures in such cases, is shown in the case of a -woman in America, of whom the world may fairly say what Father Paul -remarked to gentle Alice Brown; it 'never knew so criminal a family as -hers.' A young woman of remarkably depraved character, infested, some -seventy years since, the district of the Upper Hudson. At one stage -of her youth she narrowly, and somewhat unfortunately, escaped death. -Surviving, however, she bore many children, who in turn had large -families, insomuch that there are now some eighty direct descendants, -of whom one-fourth are convicted criminals, whilst the rest are -drunkards, lunatics, paupers, and otherwise undesirable members of the -community.</p> - -<p>With facts such as these before us, we cannot doubt that in whatever -degree variability may eliminate after awhile peculiar mental or moral -tendencies, these are often transmitted for many generations before -they die out. If it be unsafe to argue that the responsibility of -those inheriting special characteristics is diminished, the duties of -others towards them may justly be considered to be modified. Other -duties than the mere personal control of tendencies which men may -recognise in themselves are also introduced. If a man finds within -himself an inherent tendency towards some sin, which yet he utterly -detests, insomuch that while the spirit is willing the flesh is weak -or perchance utterly powerless, he must recognise in his own life a -struggle too painful and too hopeless to be handed down to others. -As regards our relations to families in which criminal tendencies -have been developed, either through the negligence of those around -(as in certain dens in London where for centuries crime has swarmed -and multiplied), or by unfortunate alliances, we may 'perceive here -a divided duty.' It has been remarked that 'we do not set ourselves -to train tigers and wolves into peaceful domestic animals; we seek to -extirpate them,' and the question has been asked, 'why should we act -otherwise with beings, who, if human in form,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> are worse than wild -beasts?' 'To educate the son of a garotter or a "corner-man" into an -average Englishman,' may be 'about as promising a task as to train -one of the latter into a Newton or a Milton.' But we must not too -quickly despair of a task which may be regarded as a duty inherited -from those who in past generations neglected it. There is no hope of -the reversion of tiger or wolf to less savage types, for, far back as -we can trace their ancestry, we find them savage of nature. With our -criminal families the case is not so utterly hopeless. Extirpation -being impossible (though easily talked of) without injustice which -would be the parent of far greater troubles even than our criminal -classes bring upon us, we should consider the elements of hope which -the problem unquestionably affords. By making it the manifest interest -of our criminal population to scatter, or, failing that, by leaving -them no choice in the matter, the poison in their blood may before many -generations be eradicated, not by wide-spreading merely, but because -of the circumstance that only the better sort among them would have -(when scattered) much chance of rearing families as well as of escaping -imprisonment.</p> - - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> It is said by Ribot that of all the features the nose is -the one which heredity preserves best.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Shakspeare, who was bald young (and, so far as one -can judge from his portraits, had a good set of teeth), suggests a -correlation between hairiness and want of wit, which is at least -likely to be regarded by those who 'wear his baldness while they're -young' as a sound theory. 'Why,' asks Antipholus of Syracuse, 'is Time -such a niggard of hair, being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement?' -'Because,' says Dromio of Syracuse, 'it is a blessing that he bestows -on beasts; and what he hath scanted men in hair he hath given them in -wit.'</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> While penning the above lines I have been reminded of an -experience of my own, which I had never before thought of as connected -with the subject of heredity; yet it seems not unlikely that it may be -regarded as a case in point. During the infancy of my eldest son it -so chanced that the question of rest at night, and consequently the -question of finding some convenient way of keeping the child quiet, -became one of considerable interest to me. Cradle-rocking was effective -but carried on in the usual way prevented my own sleep, though causing -the child to sleep. I devised, however, a way of rocking the cradle -with the foot, which could be carried on in my sleep, after a few -nights' practice. Now it is an odd coincidence (only, perhaps) that the -writer's next child, a girl, had while still an infant a trick which I -have noticed in no other case. She would rock herself in the cradle by -throwing the right leg over the left at regular intervals, the swing of -the cradle being steadily kept up for many minutes, and being quite as -wide in range as a nurse could have given. It was often continued when -the child was asleep. -</p> -<p> -Since writing the above, I have learned from my eldest daughter, the -girl who as a child had the habit described, that a recent little -brother of hers, one of twins, and remarkably like her, had the same -habit, rocking his own cradle so vigorously as to disturb her in the -next room with the noise. These two only of twelve children have had -this curious habit; but as this child is thirteen years younger than -she is, the force of the coincidence in point of time is to some degree -impaired.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> See my <i>Science Byeways</i>, p. 337 <i>et seq.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> The following statement from the researches of -Brown-Sequard seems well worth noting in this connection:—'In the -course of his masterly experimental investigations into the functions -of the nervous system he discovered that, after a particular lesion -of the spinal cord of guinea-pigs, a slight pinching of the skin of -the face would throw the animal into a kind of epileptic convulsion. -That this artificial epilepsy should be constantly producible in -guinea-pigs, and not in any other animals experimented on, was in -itself sufficiently singular; and it was not less surprising that the -tendency to it persisted after the lesion of the spinal cord seemed -to have been entirely recovered from. But it was far more wonderful -that the offspring of these epileptic guinea-pigs showed the same -predisposition, without having been themselves subjected to any lesion -whatever; whilst no such tendency showed itself in any of the large -number of young bred by the same accurate observer from parents that -had not thus been operated on.'</p></div></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> - -<p class="ph2"><a name="BODILY_ILLNESS_AS_A_MENTAL_STIMULANT" id="BODILY_ILLNESS_AS_A_MENTAL_STIMULANT"><i>BODILY ILLNESS AS A MENTAL STIMULANT.</i></a></p> - - -<p>During special states of disease the mind sometimes develops faculties -such as it does not possess when the body is in full health. Some of -the abnormal qualities thus exhibited by the mind seem strikingly -suggestive of the possible acquisition by the human race of similar -powers under ordinary conditions. For this reason, though we fear -there is no likelihood at present of any practical application of the -knowledge we may obtain on this subject, it seems to me that there is -considerable interest in examining the evidence afforded by the strange -powers which the mind occasionally shows during diseases of the body, -and especially during such diseases as are said, in unscientific but -expressive language, to lower the tone of the nervous system.</p> - -<p>We may begin by citing a case which seems exceedingly significant. Miss -H. Martineau relates that a congenital idiot, who had lost his mother -when he was less than two years old, when dying, 'suddenly turned -his head, looked bright and sensible, and exclaimed, in a tone never -heard from him before, "Oh my mother! how beautiful!" and sank down -again—dead.' Dr. Carpenter cites this as a case of abnormal memory, -illustrating his thesis that the basis of recollection 'may be laid at -a very early period of life.' But the story seems to contain a deeper -meaning. The poor idiot not only recalled a long-past time, a face -that he had not seen for years except in dreams, but he gained for a -moment a degree of intelligence which he had not pos<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>sessed when in -health. The quality of his brain was such, it appears, that with the -ordinary activity of the circulation, the ordinary vitality of the -organ, mental action was uncertain and feeble; but when the circulation -had all but ceased, when the nervous powers were all but prostrate, the -feeble brain, though it may have become no stronger actually, became -relatively stronger, in such sort that for the time specified, a mere -moment before dissolution, the idiot became an intelligent being.</p> - -<p>A somewhat similar case is on record in which an insane person, during -that stage of typhus fever in which sane persons are apt to become -delirious, became perfectly sane and reasonable, his insanity returning -with returning health. Persons of strongest mind in health are often -delirious for a short time before death. Since, then, the idiot in the -same stage of approaching dissolution may become intelligent, while -the insane may become sane under the conditions which make the sane -become delirious, we recognise a relationship between the mental and -bodily states which might be of considerable use in the treatment of -mental diseases. It may well be that conditions of the nervous system -which are to be avoided by persons of normal mental qualities may be -advantageously superinduced in the case of those of abnormally weak or -abnormally violent mind. It is noteworthy that different conditions -would seem to be necessary for the idiotic and for the insane, if -the cases cited sufficed to afford basis for generalisation. For the -idiot of Miss Martineau's story became intelligent during the intense -depression of the bodily powers immediately preceding dissolution, -whereas the insane person became sane during that height of fever when -delirium commonly makes its appearance.</p> - -<p>Sir H. Holland mentions a case which shows that great bodily depression -may affect a person of ordinary clear and powerful mind. 'I descended -on one and the same day,' he says, 'two very deep mines in the Hartz -Mountains, remaining some hours under ground in each. While in the -second mine, and exhausted both from fatigue and inanition,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> I felt the -utter impossibility of talking longer with the German Inspector who -accompanied me. Every German word and phrase deserted my recollection; -and it was not until I had taken food and wine, and been some time at -rest, that I regained them again.'</p> - -<p>A change in the mental condition is sometimes a sign of approaching -serious illness, and is felt to be so by the person experiencing it. -An American writer, Mr. Butterworth, quotes the following description -given by a near relative of his who was suffering from extreme nervous -debility. 'I am in constant fear of insanity,' she said, 'and I wish -I could be moved to some retreat for the insane. I understand my -condition perfectly; my reason does not seem to be impaired; but I can -think of <i>two things at the same time</i>. This is an indication of mental -unsoundness, and is a terror to me. I do not seem to have slept at all -for the last six months. If I sleep, it must be in a succession of -vivid dreams that destroy all impression of somnolence. Since I have -been in this condition I seem to have a very vivid impression of what -happens to my children who are away from home, and I am often startled -to hear that these impressions are correct. I seem to have also a -certain power of anticipating what one is about to say, and to read -the motives of others. I take no pleasure in this strange increase of -mental power; it is all unnatural. I cannot live in this state long, -and I often wish I were dead.'</p> - -<p>It must, however, be remembered that persons who are in a state of -extreme nervous debility, not only possess at times abnormal mental -qualities, but are also affected morally. As Huxley has well remarked -of some stories bearing on spiritualism, they come from persons -who can hardly be trusted even according to their own account of -themselves. Mr. Butterworth's relation described a mental condition -which, even if quite correctly pictured as she understood it, may yet -be explained without believing that any very marvellous increase had -taken place in her mental powers. Among the vivid impressions which -she constantly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> had of what might be happening to her children away -from home, it would have been strange if some had not been correct. -The power of anticipating what others were about to say is one which -many imagine they have, mistaking the occasional coincidence between -their guesses and what has been next said, for indications of a power -which in reality they do not possess. And so also with regard to the -motives of others. Many are apt, especially when out of health, to -guess at others' motives, sometimes rightly, but oftener very wrongly, -yet always rightly in their own belief, no matter what evidence may -presently appear to the contrary.</p> - -<p>The case cited by Mr. Butterworth affords evidence rather of the -unhealthy condition of the patient's mind than of abnormal powers, -except as regards the power of thinking of two things at the same -time, which we may fairly assume was not ordinarily possessed by its -relative. It is rather difficult to define such a power, however. -Several persons have apparently possessed the power, showing it by -doing two things at the same time which both appear to require thought, -and even close attention. Julius Cæsar, for example, could write on one -subject and dictate on another simultaneously. But in reality, even in -cases such as these, the mind does not think of two things at once. It -simply takes them in turn, doing enough with each, in a short time, a -mere instant, perhaps, to give work to the pen or to the voice, as the -case may be, for a longer time. When Cæsar was writing a sentence, he -was not necessarily thinking of what he was writing. He had done the -thinking part of the work before; and was free, while continuing the -mere mechanical process of writing, to think of matter for dictation -to his secretary. So also while he was speaking he was free to think -of matter for writing. If, indeed, the thought for each sentence of -either kind had occupied an appreciable time, there would have been -interruptions of his writing, if not of his dictation (dictation is -not commonly a continuous process under any circumstances, even when -shorthand writers take down the words). But a practised<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> writer or -speaker can in a moment form a sentence which shall occupy a minute in -writing and several seconds in speaking.</p> - -<p>I certainly do not myself claim the power of thinking of two things -at once,—nay, I believe that no one ever had or could have such a -power: yet I find it perfectly easy, when lecturing, to arrange the -plan for the next ten minutes' exposition of a scientific subject, and -to adopt the words themselves for the next twenty seconds or so, while -continuing to speak without the least interruption. I can also work out -a calculation on the black-board while continuing to speak of matters -outside the subject of the calculation. It is more a matter of habit -than an indication of any mental power, natural or acquired, to speak -or write sentences; even of considerable length, after the mind has -passed on to other matters. In a similar way some persons can write -different words with the right and left hands, and this, too, while -speaking of other matters. (I have seen this done by Professor Morse, -the American naturalist, whose two hands added words to the diagrams he -had drawn while his voice dealt with other parts of the drawing: to add -to the wonder, too, he wrote the words indifferently from right to left -or from left to right.) In reality the person who thus does two things -at once is no more thinking of two things at once than a clock is, when -the striking and the working machinery are both in action at the same -time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span><a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></p> - -<p>As an illustration of special mental power shown in health, by a person -whose mental condition in illness we shall consider afterwards, Sir -Walter Scott may be mentioned. The account given by his amanuensis -has seemed surprising to many, unfamiliar with the nature of literary -composition (at least after long practice), but is in reality such as -anyone who writes much can quite readily understand, or might even have -known must necessarily be correct. 'His thoughts,' says the secretary -to whom Scott dictated his <i>Life of Napoleon Buonaparte</i>, 'flowed -easily and felicitously, without any difficulty to lay hold of them -or to find appropriate language' (which, by the way, is more than all -would say who had read Scott's <i>Life of Buonaparte</i>, and certainly more -than can be said of his secretary, unless it really was a familiar -experience with him to be unable to lay hold of his thoughts). 'This -was evident by the absence of all solicitude (<i>miseria cogitandi</i>) -from his countenance. He sat in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> his chair, from which he rose now and -then, took a volume from the book-case, consulted it, and restored it -to the shelf—all without intermission in the current of ideas, which -continued to be delivered with no less readiness than if his mind had -been wholly occupied with the words he was uttering. It soon became -apparent to me, however, that he was carrying on two distinct trains -of thought, one of which was already arranged and in the act of being -spoken, while at the same time he was in advance, considering what -was afterwards to be said. This I discovered' (he should rather have -said, 'this I was led to infer') 'by his sometimes introducing a word -which was wholly out of place—<i>entertained</i> instead of <i>denied</i>, for -example—but which I presently found to belong to the next sentence, -perhaps four or five lines further on, which he had been preparing at -the very moment when he gave me the words of the one that preceded -it.' In the same way I have often unconsciously substituted one word -for another in lecturing, the word used always belonging to a later -sentence than the word intended to be used. I have noticed also this -peculiarity, that when a substitution of this kind has been once made, -an effort is required to avoid repeating the mistake, even if it be -not repeated quite unconsciously to the end of the discourse. In this -way, for example, I once throughout an entire lecture used the word -'heavens' for the word 'screen' (the screen on which lantern pictures -were shown). A similar peculiarity may be noticed with written errors. -Thus in my treatise on a scientific subject, in which the utmost care -had been given to minute points of detail, I once wrote 'seconds' for -'minutes' throughout several pages—in fact, from the place where -first the error was made, to the end of the chapter. (See the <i>first</i> -edition of my <i>Transits of Venus</i>, pp. 131-136, noting as an additional -peculiarity that the whole object of the chapter in which this mistake -was made was to show how many minutes of difference existed between the -occurrence of certain events.)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> - -<p>An even more curious instance of a mistake arising from doing one -thing while thinking of another occurred to me fourteen years ago. I -was correcting the proof-sheets of an astronomical treatise in which -occurred these words: 'Calling the mean distance of the earth 1, -Saturn's mean distance is 9·539; again, calling the earth's period -1, Saturn's mean period is 29·457:—now what relation exists between -these numbers 9·539 and 29·457 and their powers? The first is less -than the second, but the square of the first is plainly greater than -the second; we must therefore try higher powers, &c. &c.' The passage -was quite correct as it stood, and if the two processes by which I was -correcting verbal errors and following the sense of the passage had -been really continuous processes of thought, unquestionably the passage -would have been left alone. If the passage had been erroneous and had -been simply left in that condition the case would have been one only -too familiar to those who have had occasion to correct proofs. But -what I actually did was deliberately to make nonsense of the passage -while improving the sound of the second sentence. I made it run, -'the first is less than the second, but the square of the first is -plainly greater than the square of the second,' the absurdity of which -statement a child would detect. If the first proof in its correct form, -with the incorrect correction carefully written down in the margin, -had not existed when, several months later, the error was pointed out -in the <i>Quarterly Journal of Science</i>, I should have felt sure that -I had written the words wrongly at the outset. For blunders such as -this are common enough. But that I should deliberately have taken a -correctly worded sentence and altered it into utter absurdity I could -not, but for the evidence, have believed to be possible. The case -plainly shows that not only may two things be done at once when the -mind, nevertheless, is thinking only of one, but that something may be -done which suggests deliberate reflection when in reality the mind is -elsewhere or not occupied at all. For in this case both the processes -on which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> I was engaged were manifestly carried on without thought, -one being purely mechanical and the other, though requiring thought if -properly attended to, being so imperfectly effected as to show that no -thought was given to it.</p> - -<p>To return to Sir Walter Scott. It is known but too well that during -the later years of his life there came with bodily prostration a great -but not constant failure of his mental powers. Some of the phenomena -presented during this part of his career are strikingly illustrative of -abnormal mental action occurring even at times when the mental power -is on the whole much weakened. <i>The Bride of Lammermoor</i>, though not -one of the best of Scott's novels, is certainly far above such works -as <i>Count Robert of Paris</i>, <i>The Betrothed</i>, and <i>Castle Dangerous</i>. -Its popularity may perhaps be attributed chiefly to the deep interest -of the 'ower true tale' on which it is founded: but some of the -characters are painted with exceeding skill. Lucy herself is almost -a nonentity, and Edgar is little more than a gloomy, unpleasant man, -made interesting only by the troubles which fall on him. But Caleb -Balderstone and Ailsie Gourlay stand out from the canvas as if alive; -they are as lifelike and natural, yet as thoroughly individualised -as Edie Ochiltree and Meg Merrilies. The novel neither suggested -when it first appeared, nor has been regarded even after the facts -became known, as suggesting that Scott, when he wrote it, was in bad -health. Yet it was produced under pressure of severe illness, and when -Scott was at least in this sense unconscious, that nothing of what -he said and did in connection with the work was remembered when he -recovered. 'The book,' says James Ballantyne, 'was not only written, -but published, before Mr. Scott was able to rise from his bed; and he -assured me that when it was first put into his hands in a complete -shape, <i>he did not recollect one single incident, character, or -conversation it contained</i>! He did not desire me to understand, nor did -I understand, that his illness had erased from his memory the original -incidents of the story, with which he had been acquainted from his -boyhood. These<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> remained rooted where they had ever been; or, to speak -more explicitly, he remembered the general facts of the existence of -the father and mother, of the son and daughter, of the rival lovers, -of the compulsory marriage, and the attack made by the bride upon the -hapless bridegroom, with the general catastrophe of the whole. <i>All -these things he recollected</i>, just as he did before he took to his bed; -<i>but he literally recollected nothing else</i>—not a single character -woven by the romancer, not one of the many scenes and points of humour, -not <i>anything with which he was himself connected</i>, as the writer of -the work.</p> - -<p>Later, when Scott was breaking down under severe and long-continued -labour, and first felt the approach of the illness which ultimately -ended in death, he experienced strange mental phenomena. In his diary -for February 17, 1829, he notes that on the preceding day, at dinner, -though in company with two or three old friends, he was haunted by 'a -sense of pre-existence,' a confused idea that nothing that passed was -said for the first time; that the same topics had been discussed, and -that the same persons had expressed the same opinions before. 'There -was a vile sense of a want of reality in all that I did or said.'</p> - -<p>Dr. Reynolds related to Dr. Carpenter a case in which a Dissenting -minister, who was in apparently sound health, was rendered apprehensive -of brain-disease—though, as it seemed, without occasion—by a lapse -of memory similar to that experienced by Sir Walter Scott. He 'went -through an entire pulpit service on a certain Sunday morning with the -most perfect consistency—his choice of hymns and lessons, and his -<i>extempore</i> prayer being all related to the subject of his sermon. On -the following Sunday morning he went through the introductory part of -the service in precisely the same manner—giving out the same hymns, -reading the same lessons, and directing the <i>extempore</i> prayer in the -same channel. He then gave out the same text and preached the very same -sermon as he had done on the previous Sunday. When he came down from -the pulpit, it was found that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> had not the smallest remembrance of -having gone through precisely the same service on the previous Sunday; -and when he was assured of it, he felt considerable uneasiness lest -his lapse of memory should indicate some impending attack of illness. -None such, however, supervened; and no <i>rationale</i> can be given of -this curious occurrence, the subject of it not being liable to fits -of "absence of mind" and not having had his thoughts engrossed at the -time by any other special pre-occupation.' It is possible that the -explanation here is the simple one of mere coincidence. Whether this -explanation is available or not would depend entirely on the question -whether the preacher's memory was ordinarily trustworthy or not, -whether in fact he would remember the arrangements, prayers, sermon, -&c., he had given on any occasion. These matters becoming, after long -habit, almost automatic, it might very well happen that the person -going through such duties would remember them no longer and no better -than one who had been present when they were performed, and who had -not paid special attention to them. That if he had thus unconsciously -carried out his duties on one Sunday he should (being to this degree -forgetful) conduct them in precisely the same way on the next Sunday, -would rather tend to show that his mental faculties were in excellent -working order than the reverse. Wendell Holmes tells a story which -effectively illustrates my meaning; and he tells it so pleasantly (as -usual) that I shall quote it unaltered. 'Sometimes, but rarely,' he -says, 'one may be caught making the same speech twice over, and yet be -held blameless. Thus a certain lecturer' (Holmes himself, doubtless), -'after performing in an inland city, where dwells a <i>littératrice</i> -of note, was invited to meet her and others over the social tea-cup. -She pleasantly referred to his many wanderings in his new occupation. -"Yes," he replied, "I am like the huma, the bird that never lights, -being always in the cars, as he is always on the wing." Years elapsed. -The lecturer visited the same place once more for the same purpose. -Another social cup after the lecture, and a second<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> meeting with the -distinguished lady. "You are constantly going from place to place," -she said. "Yes," he answered, "I am like the huma," and finished the -sentence as before. What horror when it flashed over him that he had -made this fine speech, word for word, twice over! Yet it was not true, -as the lady might perhaps have fairly inferred, that he had embellished -his conversation with the huma daily during that whole interval of -years. On the contrary, he had never once thought of the odious fowl -until the recurrence of precisely the same circumstances brought up -precisely the same idea.' He was not in the slightest degree afraid -of brain-disease. On the contrary, he considered the circumstance -indicative of good order in the mental mechanism. 'He ought to have -been proud,' says Holmes, speaking for him, and meaning no doubt that -he <i>was</i> proud, 'of the accuracy of his mental adjustments. <i>Given -certain factors, and a sound brain should always evolve the same fixed -product with the certainty of Babbage's calculating machine.</i>'</p> - -<p>Somewhat akin to the unconscious recurrence of mental processes -after considerable intervals of time is the tendency to imitate the -actions of others as though sharing in their thoughts, and according -to many <i>because</i> mind acts upon mind. This tendency, though not -always associated with disease, is usually a sign of bodily illness. -Dr. Carpenter mentions the following singular case, but rather as -illustrating generally the influence of suggestions derived from -external sources in determining the current of thought, than as showing -how prone the thoughts are to run in undesirable currents when the -body is out of health:—'During an epidemic of fever, in which an -active delirium had been a common symptom, it was observed that many -of the patients of one particular physician were possessed by a strong -tendency to throw themselves out of the window, whilst no such tendency -presented itself in unusual frequency in the practice of others. The -author's informant, Dr. C., himself a distinguished professor in the -university, explained the tendency of what had occurred within his own -knowledge;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> he having been himself attacked by the fever, and having -been under the care of this physician, his friend and colleague, Dr. -A. Another of Dr. A.'s patients whom we shall call Mr. B., seems to -have been the first to make the attempt in question; and impressed -with the necessity of taking due precautions, Dr. A. then visited Dr. -C., <i>in whose hearing</i> he gave directions to have the windows properly -secured, as Mr. B. had attempted to throw himself out. Now Dr. C. -distinctly remembers, that although he had not previously experienced -any such desire, it came upon him with great urgency as soon as ever -the idea was thus suggested to him; his mind being just in that state -of incipient delirium which is marked by the temporary dominance of -some one idea, and by the want of volitional power to withdraw the -attention from it. And he deemed it probable that, as Dr. A. went on to -Mr. D., Mr. E., &c., and gave similar directions, a like desire would -be excited in the minds of all those who might happen to be in the same -impressible condition.' The case is not only interesting as showing -how the mind in disease receives certain impressions more strongly -than in health, and in a sense may thus be said to possess for the -time an abnormal power, but it affords a useful hint to doctors and -nurses, who do not always (the latter indeed scarcely ever) consider -the necessity of extreme caution when speaking about their patients and -in their presence. It is probable that a considerable proportion of the -accidents, fatal and otherwise, which have befallen delirious patients -might be traced to incautious remarks made in their hearing by foolish -nurses or forgetful doctors.</p> - -<p>In some cases doctors have had to excite a strong antagonistic feeling -against tendencies of this kind. Thus Zerffi relates that an English -physician was once consulted by the mistress of a ladies' school where -many girls had become liable to fits of hysterics. He tried several -remedies, but in vain. At last, justly regarding the epidemic as -arising from the influence of imagination on the weaker girls (one -hysterical girl having infected the others), he determined to exert<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> -a stronger antagonistic influence on the weak minds of his patients. -He therefore remarked casually to the mistress of the school, in the -hearing of the girls, that he had now tried all methods but one, which -he would try, as a last resource, when next he called—'the application -of a red-hot iron to the spine of the patients so as to quiet their -nervously-excited systems.' 'Strange to say,' remarks Zerffi—meaning, -no doubt, 'it is hardly necessary to say that'—'the red-hot iron was -never applied, for the hysterical attacks ceased as if by magic.'</p> - -<p>In another case mentioned by Zerffi, a revival mania in a large school -near Cologne was similarly brought to an abrupt end. The Government -sent an inspector. He found that the boys had visions of Christ, the -Virgin, and departed saints. He threatened to close the school if -these visions continued, and thus to exclude the students from all the -prospects which their studies afforded them. 'The effect was as magical -as the red-hot iron remedy—the revivals ceased as if by magic.'</p> - -<p>The following singular cases are related in Zimmermann's <i>Solitude</i>:—A -nun, in a very large convent in France, began to mew like a cat. At -last all the nuns began to mew together every day at a certain time, -and continued mewing for several hours together. This daily cat-concert -continued, until the nuns were informed that a company of soldiers -was placed by the police before the entrance to the convent, and that -the soldiers were provided with rods with which they would whip the -nuns until they promised not to mew any more,' ... 'In the fifteenth -century, a nun in a German convent fell to biting her companions. In -the course of a short time all the nuns of this convent began biting -each other. The news of this infatuation among the nuns soon spread, -and excited the same elsewhere; the biting mania passing from convent -to convent through a great part of Germany. It afterwards visited the -nunneries of Holland, and even spread as far as Rome.' No suggestion -of bodily disease is made in either case. But anyone who considers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> -how utterly unnatural is the manner of life in monastic communities -will not need the evidence derived from the spread of such preposterous -habits to be assured that in convents the perfectly sane mind in a -perfectly healthy body must be the exception rather than the rule.</p> - -<p>The dancing mania, which spread through a large part of Europe in the -fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, although it eventually attacked -persons who were seemingly in robust health, yet had its origin in -disease. Dr. Hecker, who has given the most complete account we have -of this strange mania, in his <i>Epidemics of the Middle Ages</i>, says -that when the disease was completely developed the attack commenced -with epileptic convulsions. 'Those affected fell to the ground -senseless, panting and labouring for breath. They foamed at the -mouth, and suddenly springing up began their dance amidst strange -contortions. They formed circles hand in hand, and appearing to have -lost all control over their senses continued dancing, regardless of the -bystanders, for hours together, in wild delirium, until at length they -fell to the ground in a state of exhaustion. They then complained of -extreme oppression, and groaned as if in the agonies of death, until -they were swathed in clothes bound tightly round their waists; upon -which they again recovered, and remained free from complaint until -the next attack.... While dancing they neither saw nor heard, being -insensible to external impressions through the senses; but they were -haunted by visions, their fancies conjuring up spirits, whose names -they shrieked out; and some of them afterwards asserted that they felt -as if they had been immersed in a stream of blood, which obliged them -to leap so high. Others during the paroxysm saw the heavens open, -and the Saviour enthroned with the Virgin Mary, according as the -religious notions of the age were strangely and variously reflected -in their imaginations.' The epidemic attacked people of all stations, -but especially those who led a sedentary life, such as shoemakers and -tailors; yet even the most robust peasants finally yielded to it. They -'abandoned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> their labours in the fields as if they were possessed by -evil spirits, and those affected were seen assembling indiscriminately -from time to time, at certain appointed places, and unless prevented -by the lookers-on, continued to dance without intermission, until -their very last breath was expended. Their fury and extravagance of -demeanour so completely deprived them of their senses, that many -of them dashed their brains out against the walls and corners of -buildings, or rushed headlong in rapid rivers, where they found a -watery grave. Roaring and foaming as they were, the bystanders could -only succeed in restraining them by placing benches and chairs in their -way, so that by the high leaps they were thus tempted to take, their -strength might be exhausted. As soon as this was the case they fell, -as it were, lifeless to the ground, and by very slow degrees recovered -their strength. Many there were who even with all this exertion had not -expended the violence of the tempest which raged within them; but awoke -with newly revived powers, and again and again mixed with the crowd of -dancers; until at length the violent excitement of their disordered -nerves was allayed by the great involuntary exertion of their limbs, -and the mental disorder was calmed by the exhaustion of the body. The -cure effected by these stormy attacks was in many cases so perfect, -that some patients returned to the factory or plough, as if nothing -had happened. Others, on the contrary, paid the penalty of their folly -by so total a loss of power, that they could not regain their former -health, even by the employment of the most strengthening remedies.'</p> - -<p>It may be doubted, perhaps, by some whether such instances as these -illustrate so much the state to which the mind is reduced when the body -is diseased, as the state to which the body is reduced when the mind -is diseased, though, as we have seen, the dancing mania when fully -developed followed always on bodily illness. In the cases we now have -to deal with, the diseased condition of the body was unmistakable.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hemans on her deathbed said that it was impossible for imagination -to picture or pen to describe the delightful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> visions which passed -before her mind. They made her waking hours more delightful than those -passed in sleep. It is evident that these visions had their origin -in the processes of change affecting the substance of the brain as -the disease of the body progressed. But it does not follow that the -substance of the brain was undergoing changes necessarily tending -to its ultimate decay and dissolution. Quite possibly the changes -were such as might occur under the influence of suitable medicinal -or stimulant substances, and without any subsequent ill effects. -Dr. Richardson, in an interesting article on ether-drinking and -extra-alcoholic intoxication (<i>Gentleman's Magazine</i> for October), -makes a remark which suggests that the medical men of our day look -forward to the discovery of means for obtaining some such influence -over the action of the brain. After describing the action of methylic -and ethylic ethers in his own case, he says: 'They who have felt -this condition, who have lived as it were in another life, however -transitorily, are easily led to declare with Davy that "nothing -exists but thoughts! the universe is composed of impressions, ideas, -pleasures, and pains!" I believe it is so, and that we might by -scientific art, and there is such an art, learn to live altogether in -a new sphere of impressions, ideas, pleasures, and pains.' But stay,' -he adds, as if he had said too much, 'I am anticipating, unconsciously, -something else that is in my mind. The rest is silence; I must return -to the world in which we now live, and which all know.'</p> - -<p>Mr. Butterworth mentions the case of the Rev. William Tennent, of -Freehold, New Jersey, as illustrative of strange mental faculties -possessed during disease. Tennent was supposed to be far gone in -consumption. At last, after a protracted illness, he seemingly died, -and preparations were made for his funeral. Not only were his friends -deceived, but he was deceived himself, for he thought he was dead, and -that his spirit had entered Paradise. 'His soul, as he thought, was -borne aloft to celestial altitudes, and was enraptured by visions of -God and all the hosts of Heaven.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> He seemed to dwell in an enchanted -region of limitless light and inconceivable splendour. At last an -angel came to him and told him that he must go back. Darkness, like an -overawing shadow, shut out the celestial glories; and, full of sudden -horror, he uttered a deep groan. This dismal utterance was heard by -those around him, and prevented him from being buried alive, after all -the preparations had been made for the removal of the body.'</p> - -<p>We must not fall into the mistake of supposing, however, as many seem -to do, that the visions seen under such conditions, or by ecstatics, -really present truths of which the usual mental faculties could not -become cognisant. We have heard such cases as the deathbed visions of -Mrs. Hemans, and the trance visions of Tennent, urged as evidence in -favour of special forms of doctrine. We have no thought of attacking -these, but assuredly they derive no support from evidence of this -sort. The dying Hindoo has visions which the Christian would certainly -not regard as heaven-born. The Mahomedan sees the plains of Paradise, -peopled by the houris of his heaven, but we do not on that account -accept the Koran as the sole guide to religious truth. The fact is, -that the visions pictured by the mind during the disease of the body, -or in the ecstatic condition, have their birth in the mind itself, -and take their form from the teachings with which that mind has been -imbued. They may, indeed, seem utterly unlike those we should expect -from the known character of the visionary, just as the thoughts of a -dying man may be, and often are, very far removed from the objects -which had occupied all his attention during the later years of his -life. But if the history of the childhood and youth of an ecstatic -could be fully known, or if (which is exceedingly unlikely) we could -obtain a strictly truthful account of such matters from himself, we -should find nearly every circumstance of his visions explained, or at -least an explanation suggested. For, after all, much which would be -necessary to exactly show the origin of all he saw, would be lost, -since<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> the brain retains impressions of many things of which the -conscious memory has entirely passed away.</p> - -<p>The vivid picturing of forgotten events of life is a familiar -experience of the opium-eater. Thus De Quincey says: 'The minutest -incidents of childhood or forgotten scenes of later years, were often -revived. I could not be said to recollect them, for if I had been told -of them when waking, I should not have been able to acknowledge them as -part of my past experience. But placed as they were before me in dreams -like intuitions, and clothed in all their evanescent circumstances and -accompanying feelings, I recognised them instantaneously.' A similar -return of long-forgotten scenes and incidents to the mind may be -noticed, though not to the same degree, when wine has been taken in -moderate quantity after a long fast.</p> - -<p>The effects of hachisch are specially interesting in this connection, -because, unless a very powerful dose has been taken, the hachischin -does not wholly lose the power of introspection, so that he is able -afterwards to recall what has passed through his mind when he was under -the influence of the drug. Now Moreau, in his interesting <i>Etudes -Psychologiques</i> (<i>Du Hachich et d'Aliénation Mentale</i>), says that the -first result of a dose sufficient to produce the <i>hachisch fantasia</i> -is a feeling of intense happiness. 'It is really <i>happiness</i> which is -produced by the hachisch; and by this simply an enjoyment entirely -moral, and by no means sensual as we might be induced to suppose. This -is surely a very curious circumstance; and some remarkable inferences -might be drawn from it; this, for instance, among others—that every -feeling of joy and gladness, even when the cause of it is exclusively -moral—that those enjoyments which are least connected with material -objects, the most spiritual, the most ideal, may be nothing else than -sensations purely physical, developed in the interior of the system, -as are those procured by hachisch. At least so far as relates to that -of which we are internally conscious, there is no distinction between -these two orders of sensations, in spite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> of the diversity in the -causes to which they are due; for the hachisch-eater is happy, not like -the gourmand or the famished man when satisfying his appetite, or the -voluptuary in gratifying his amative desires, but like him who hears -tidings which fill him with joy, like the miser counting his treasures, -the gambler who is successful at play, or the ambitious man who is -intoxicated with success.'</p> - -<p>My special object, however, in noting the effects of opium and -hachisch, is rather to note how the mental processes or faculties -observed during certain states of disease may be produced artificially, -than to enter into the considerations discussed by Dr. Moreau. It is -singular that while the Mohamedan order of Hachischin (or Assassins) -bring about by the use of their favourite drug such visions as -accompany the progress of certain forms of disease, the Hindoo devotees -called the Yogi are able to produce artificially the state of mind and -body recognised in cataleptic patients. The less-advanced Yogi can -only enter the state of abstraction called reverie; but the higher -orders can simulate absolute inanition, the heart apparently ceasing -to beat, the lungs to act, and the nerves to convey impressions to -the brain, even though the body be subjected to processes which would -cause extreme torture under ordinary conditions. 'When in this state,' -says Carpenter, 'the Yogi are supposed to be completely possessed by -Brahma, "the supreme soul," and to be incapable of sin in thought, -word, or deed.' It has been supposed that this was the state into which -those entered who in old times were resorted to as oracles. But it has -happened that in certain stages of disease the power of assuming the -death-like state has been possessed for a time. Thus Colonel Townsend, -who died in 1797, we read, had in his last sickness the extraordinary -power of apparently dying and returning to life again at will. 'I found -his pulse sink gradually,' says Dr. Cheyne, who attended him, 'so that -I could not feel it by the most exact or nice touch. Dr. Raymond could -not detect the least motion of the heart, nor Dr. Skrine the least soil -of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> breath upon the bright mirror held to the mouth. We began to -fear he was actually dead. He then began to breathe softly.' Colonel -Townsend repeated the experiment several times during his illness, and -could always render himself insensible at will.</p> - -<p>Lastly, I may mention a case, which, however, though illustrating -in some degree the influence of bodily illness on the mind, shows -still more strikingly how the mind may influence the body—that of -Louise Lateau, the Belgian peasant. This girl had been prostrated by -a long and exhausting illness, from which she recovered rapidly after -receiving the sacrament. This circumstance made a strong impression -on her mind. Her thoughts dwelt constantly on the circumstances -attending the death of Christ. At length she noticed that, on every -Friday, blood came from a spot in her left side. 'In the course of a -few months similar bleeding spots established themselves on the front -and back of each hand, and on the upper surface of each foot, while -a circle of small spots formed in the forehead, and the hæmorrhage -from these recurred every Friday, sometimes to a considerable amount. -About the same time, fits of ecstasy began to occur, commencing every -Friday between eight and nine in the morning, and ending about six -in the evening; interrupting her in conversation, in prayer, or in -manual occupations. This state,' says Dr. Carpenter, 'appears to have -been intermediate between that of the biologised and that of the -hypnotised subject; for whilst as unconscious as the latter of all -sense-impressions, she retained, like the former, a recollection of -all that had passed through her mind during the ecstasy. She described -herself as suddenly plunged into a vast flood of bright light, from -which more or less distinct forms began to evolve themselves; and she -then witnessed the several scenes of the Passion successively passing -before her. She minutely described the cross and the vestments, the -wounds, the crown of thorns about the head of the Saviour, and gave -various details regarding the persons about the cross, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> disciples, -holy women, Jews and Roman soldiers. And the progress of her vision -might be traced by the succession of actions she performed at various -stages of it: most of these movements were expressive of her own -emotions, whilst regularly about three in the afternoon she extended -her limbs in the form of a cross. The fit terminated with a state of -extreme physical prostration; the pulse being scarcely perceptible, the -breathing slow and feeble, and the whole surface bedewed with a cold -perspiration. After this state had continued for about ten minutes, a -return to the normal condition rapidly took place.'</p> - -<p>There seems no reason for supposing that there was any deceit on the -part of Louise Lateau herself, though that she was self-deceived no -one can reasonably doubt. Of course many in Belgium, especially the -more ignorant and superstitious (including large numbers of the clergy -and of religious orders of men and women), believed that her ecstasies -were miraculous, and no doubt she believed so herself. But none of the -circumstances observed in her case, or related by her, were such as -the physiologist would find any difficulty in accepting or explaining. -Her visions were such as might have been expected in a person of her -peculiar nervous organisation, weakened as her body had been by long -illness, and her mind affected by what she regarded as her miraculous -recovery. As to the transudation of blood from the skin, Dr. Tuke, in -his 'Illustrations of the Influence of the Mind upon the Body in Health -and Disease' (p. 267), shows the phenomenon to be explicable naturally. -It is a well-authenticated fact, that under strong emotional excitement -blood escapes through the perspiratory ducts, apparently through the -rupture of the walls of the capillary passages of the skin.</p> - -<p>We see, then, in Louise Lateau's case, how the mind affected by disease -may acquire faculties not possessed during health, and how in turn the -mind thus affected may influence the body so strangely as to suggest to -ignorant or foolish persons the operation of supernatural agencies.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> - -<p>The general conclusion to which we seem led by the observed -peculiarities in the mental faculties during disease is, that the -mind depends greatly on the state of the body for the co-ordination -of its various powers. In health, these are related in what may be -called the normal manner. Faculties capable of great development -under other conditions exist in moderate degree only, while probably, -either consciously or unconsciously, certain faculties are held in -control by others. But during illness, faculties not ordinarily used -suddenly or very rapidly acquire undue predominance, and controlling -faculties usually effective are greatly weakened. Then for a while -the mental capacity seems entirely changed. Powers supposed not to -exist at all (for of mental faculties, as of certain other qualities, -<i>de non existentibus et de non apparentibus eadem est ratio</i>) seem -suddenly created, as if by a miracle. Faculties ordinarily so strong -as to be considered characteristic seem suddenly destroyed, since they -no longer produce any perceptible effect. Or, as Brown-Sequard says, -summing up the results of a number of illustrative cases described in -a course of lectures delivered in Boston: 'It would seem that the mind -is largely dependent on physical conditions for the exercise of its -faculties, and that its strength and most remarkable powers, as well as -its apparent weakness, are often most clearly shown and recognised by -some inequality of action in periods of disturbed and greatly impaired -health.'</p> - - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Since the above was written I have noticed a passage in -Dr. Carpenter's <i>Mental Physiology</i>, p. 719, bearing on the matter I -have been dealing with:—'The following statement recently made to me -by a gentleman of high intelligence, the editor of a most important -provincial newspaper, would be almost incredible, if cases somewhat -similar were not already familiar to us:—'I was formerly,' he said, -'a reporter in the House of Commons; and it several times happened -to me that, having fallen asleep from sheer fatigue towards the -end of a debate, I had found, on awaking after a short interval of -entire unconsciousness, that I had continued to note down correctly -the speaker's words.' 'I believe,' he added, 'that this is not an -uncommon experience among Parliamentary reporters.' The reading aloud -with correct emphasis and intonation, or the performance of a piece -of music, or (as in the case of Albert Smith) the recitation of a -frequently repeated composition, whilst the conscious mind is <i>entirely -engrossed</i> in its own thoughts and feelings, may be thus accounted -for without the supposition that the mind is actively engaged in two -different operations at the same moment, which would seem tantamount to -saying that there are two egos in the same organism.' An instance in -my own experience seems even more remarkable than the reporter's work -during sleep, for he had but to continue a mechanical process, whereas -in my case there must have been thought. Late one evening at Cambridge -I began a game of chess with a fellow-student (now a clergyman, and -well known in chess circles). I was tired after a long day's rowing, -but continued the game to the best of my ability, until at a certain -stage I fell asleep, or rather fell into a waking dream. At any rate -all remembrance of what passed after that part of the game had entirely -escaped me when I awoke or returned to consciousness about three in -the morning. The chessboard was there, but the men were not as when -the last conscious move was made. The opponent's king was checkmated. -I supposed my opponent had set the men in this position either as a -joke or in trying over some end game. But I was assured that the game -had continued to the end, and that I had won, apparently playing as if -fully conscious! Of course I cannot certify this of my own knowledge.</p></div></div> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> - -<p class="ph2"><a name="DUAL_CONSCIOUSNESS" id="DUAL_CONSCIOUSNESS"><i>DUAL CONSCIOUSNESS.</i></a></p> - - -<p>Rather more than two years ago I considered in the pages of 'Science -Byways' the theory originally propounded by Sir Henry Holland, but -then recently advocated by Dr. Brown-Sequard, of New York, that we -have two brains, each perfectly sufficient for the full performance -of mental functions. I did not for my own part either advocate or -oppose that theory, but simply considered the facts which had been -urged in support of it, or which then occurred to me as bearing upon -it, whether for or against. I showed, however, that some classes of -phenomena which had been quoted in support of the theory seemed in -reality opposed to it, when all the circumstances were considered. For -example, Brown-Sequard had referred to some of those well-known cases -in which during severe illness a language forgotten in the patient's -ordinary condition had been recalled, the recollection of the language -enduring only while the illness lasted. I pointed to a case in which -there had not been two mental conditions only, as indicated by the -language of the patient, but three; the person in question having in -the beginning of his illness spoken English only, in the middle of his -illness French only, and on the day of his death Italian only (the -language of his childhood). The interpretation of that case, and of -others of a similar kind, must, I remarked, be very different from that -which Brown-Sequard assigned, perhaps correctly, 'to cases of twofold -mental life.' A case of the last-named kind has recently been discussed -in scientific circles, which seems to me to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> bear very forcibly on the -question whether Holland's theory of a dual brain is correct. I propose -briefly to describe and examine this case, and some others belonging to -the same class, two of which were touched upon in my former essay, but -slightly only, as forming but a small part of the evidence dealt with -by Brown-Sequard, whose arguments I was then considering. I wish now to -deal, not with the question of the duality of the brain, but with the -more general question of dual or intermittent consciousness.</p> - -<p>Among the cases dealt with by Brown-Sequard was that of a boy at -Notting Hill, who had two mental lives. Neither life presented -anything specially remarkable in itself. The boy was a well-mannered -lad in his abnormal as well as in his normal condition,—or one might -almost say (as will appear more clearly after other cases have been -considered) that the <i>two</i> boys were quiet and well-behaved. But the -two mental lives were entirely distinct. In his normal condition the -boy remembered nothing which had happened in his abnormal condition; -and <i>vice versâ</i>, in his abnormal condition he remembered nothing which -had happened in his normal condition. He changed from either condition -to the other in the same manner. 'The head was seen to fall suddenly, -and his eyes closed, but he remained erect if standing at the time, or -if sitting he remained in that position (if talking, he stopped for a -while, and if moving, he stopped moving); and after a minute or two his -head rose, he started up, opened his eyes, and was wide awake again.' -While the head was drooped he appeared as if either sleeping or falling -asleep. He remained in the abnormal state for a period which varied -between one hour and three hours; it appears that every day, or nearly -every day, he fell once into his abnormal condition.</p> - -<p>This case need not detain us long; but there are some points in it -which deserve more attention than they seem to have received from Dr. -Brown-Sequard. It is clear that if the normal and abnormal mental lives -of this boy had been entirely distinct, then in the abnormal condition -he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> have been ignorant and—in those points in which manners -depend on training—ill-mannered. He would have known only, in this -condition, what he had learned in this condition; and as only about -a tenth part of his life was passed in the abnormal condition, and -presumably that portion of his life not usually selected as a suitable -time for teaching him, the abnormal boy would of necessity have been -much more backward in all things which the young are taught than the -normal boy. As nothing of this kind was noted, it would appear probable -that the boy's earlier years were common to both lives, and that his -unconsciousness of his ordinary life during the abnormal condition -extended only to those parts of his ordinary life which had passed -since these seizures began. Unfortunately, Brown-Sequard's account does -not mention when this had happened.</p> - -<p>It does not appear that the dual brain theory is required so far -as this case is concerned. The phenomena seem rather to suggest a -peculiarity in the circulation of the brain corresponding in some -degree to the condition probably prevailing during somnambulism or -hypnotism, though with characteristic differences. It may at least -be said that no more valid reason exists for regarding this boy's -case as illustrating the distinctive duality of the brain than for so -regarding some of the more remarkable cases of somnambulism; for though -these differ in certain respects from the boy's case, they resemble -it in the circumstances on which Brown Sequard's argument is founded. -Speaking generally of hypnotism,—that is, of somnambulism artificially -produced,—Dr. Carpenter says, 'In hypnotism, as in ordinary -somnambulism, no remembrance whatever is preserved, in the waking -state, of anything that may have occurred during its continuance; -although the previous train of thought may be taken up and continued -uninterruptedly on the next occasion when hypnotism is induced.' In -these respects the phenomena of hypnotism precisely resemble those of -dual consciousness as observed in the boy's case. In what follows, we -observe features of divergence. Thus 'when the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> mind is not excited -to activity by the stimulus of external impressions, the hypnotised -subject appears to be profoundly asleep; a state of complete torpor, -in fact, being usually the first result of the process just described, -and any subsequent manifestation of activity being procurable only by -the prompting of the operator. The hypnotised subject, too, rarely -opens his eyes; his bodily movements are usually slow; his mental -operations require a considerable time for their performance; and there -is altogether an appearance of heaviness about him which contrasts -strongly with the comparatively wide-awake air of him who has not -passed beyond the ordinary biological state.'</p> - -<p>It would not be easy to find an exact parallel to the case of the -two-lived boy in any recorded instance of somnambulism. In fact, it -is to be remembered that recorded instances of mental phenomena are -all selected for the very reason that they are exceptional, so that it -would be unreasonable to expect them closely to resemble each other. -One case, however, may be cited, which in certain points resembles the -case of Dr. Brown-Sequard's patient. It occurred within Dr. Carpenter's -own experience. A young lady of highly nervous temperament suffered -from a long and severe illness, characterised by all the most marked -forms of hysterical disorder. In the course of this illness came a -time when she had a succession of somnambulistic seizures. 'The state -of somnambulism usually supervened in this case in the waking state, -instead of arising, as it more commonly does, out of the conditions -of ordinary sleep. In this condition her ideas were at first entirely -fixed upon one subject—the death of her only brother, which had -occurred some years previously. To this brother she had been very -strongly attached; she had nursed him in his last illness; and it was -perhaps the return of the anniversary of his death, about the time -when the somnambulism first occurred, that gave to her thoughts that -particular direction. She talked constantly of him, retraced all the -circumstances of his illness, and was unconscious of anything that was -said to her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> which had not reference to this subject.... Although her -eyes were open, she recognised no one in this state,—not even her own -sister, who, it should be mentioned, had not been at home at the time -of her brother's last illness.' (It will presently appear, however, -that she was able to recognise those who were about her during these -attacks, since she retained ill-feeling against one of them; moreover, -the sentences which immediately follow suggest that the sense of sight -was not dormant.) 'It happened on one occasion, that when she passed -into this condition, her sister, who was present, was wearing a locket -containing some of their deceased brother's hair. As soon as she -perceived this locket she made a violent snatch at it, and would not -be satisfied until she had got it into her possession, when she began -to talk to it in the most endearing and even extravagant terms. Her -feelings were so strongly excited on this subject, that it was deemed -prudent to check them; and as she was inaccessible to all entreaties -for the relinquishment of the locket, force was employed to obtain -it from her. She was so determined, however, not to give it up, and -was so angry at the gentle violence used, that it was found necessary -to abandon the attempt, and having become calmer after a time, she -passed off into ordinary sleep. Before going to sleep, however, she -placed the locket under her pillow, remarking, "Now I have hid it -safely, and they shall not take it from me." On awaking in the morning -she had not the slightest consciousness of what had passed; but the -impression of the excited feelings still remained, for she remarked to -her sister, 'I cannot tell what it is that makes me feel so, but every -time that S. comes near me I have a kind of shuddering sensation;' -the individual named being a servant, whose constant attention to her -had given rise to a feeling of strong attachment on the side of the -invalid, but who had been the chief actor in the scene of the previous -evening. This feeling wore off in the course of a day or two. A few -days afterwards the somnambulism again returned; and the patient being -upon her bed at the time, immediately<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> began to search for the locket -under her pillow.' As it had been removed in the interval, 'she was -unable to find it, at which she expressed great disappointment, and -continued searching for it, with the remark, "It <i>must</i> be there—I -put it there myself a few minutes ago, and no one can have taken it -away." In this state the presence of S. renewed her previous feelings -of anger; and it was only by sending S. out of the room that she could -be calmed and induced to sleep. The patient was the subject of many -subsequent attacks, in every one of which the anger against S. revived, -until the current of thought changed, no longer running exclusively -upon what related to her brother, but becoming capable of direction -by <i>suggestions</i> of various kinds presented to her mind, either in -conversation, or, more directly, through the several organs of sense.'</p> - -<p>I have been particular in quoting the above account, because it appears -to me to illustrate well, not only the relation between the phenomena -of dual consciousness and somnambulism, but the dependence of either -class of phenomena on the physical condition. If it should appear that -dual consciousness is invariably associated with some disorder either -of the nervous system or of the circulation, it would be impossible, -or at least very difficult, to maintain Brown-Sequard's explanation of -the boy's case. For one can hardly imagine it possible that a disorder -of the sort should be localised so far as the brain is concerned, while -in other respects affecting the body generally. It so chances that the -remarkable case recently dealt with by French men of science forms a -sort of connecting link between the boy's case and the case just cited. -It closely resembles the former in certain characteristic features, -while it resembles the latter in the evidence which it affords of -the influence of the physical condition on the phenomena of double -consciousness. The original narrative by M. Azam is exceedingly prolix; -but it has been skilfully condensed by Mr. H.J. Slack, in the pages of -a quarterly journal of science. I follow his version in the main.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> - -<p>The subject of the disorder, Felida X., was born in Bordeaux in 1843. -Until the age of thirteen she differed in no respect from other -girls. But about that time symptoms of hysterical disorder presented -themselves, and although she was free from lung-disease, she was -troubled with frequent spitting of blood. After this had continued -about a year, she for the first time manifested the phenomena of -double consciousness. Sharp pains attacked both temples, and in a -few moments she became unconscious. This lasted ten minutes, after -which she opened her eyes, and entered into what M. Azam calls her -second state, in which she remained for an hour or two, after which -the pains and unconsciousness came on again, and she returned to her -ordinary condition. At intervals of about five or six days, such -attacks were repeated; and her relations noticed that her character -and conduct during her abnormal state were changed. Finding also that -in her usual condition she remembered nothing which had passed when -she was in the other state, they thought she was becoming idiotic; -and presently called in M. Azam, who was connected with a lunatic -asylum. Fortunately, he was not so enthusiastic a student of mental -aberration as to recognise a case for the lunatic asylum in every -instance of phenomenal mental action. He found Felida intelligent, but -melancholy, morose, and taciturn, very industrious, and with a strong -will. She was very anxious about her bodily health. At this time the -mental changes occurred more frequently than before. Nearly every day, -as she sat with her work on her knees, a violent pain shot suddenly -through her temples, her head dropped upon her breast, her arms fell -by her side, and she passed into a sort of sleep, from which neither -noises, pinches, nor pricks could awaken her. This condition lasted -now only two or three minutes. 'She woke up in quite another state, -smiling gaily, speaking briskly, and trilling (<i>fredonnant</i>) over her -work, which she recommenced at the point where she left it. She would -get up, walk actively, and scarcely complained of any of the pains -she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> had suffered from so severely a few minutes before. She busied -herself about the house, paid calls, and behaved like a healthy young -girl of her age. In this state she remembered perfectly all that had -happened in her two conditions.' (In this respect her case is distinct -from both the former, and is quite exceptional. In fact, the inclusion -of the consciousness of both conditions during the continuance of one -condition only, renders her case not, strictly speaking, one of double -consciousness, the two conditions not being perfectly distinct from -each other.) 'In this second life, as in the other, her moral and -intellectual faculties, though different, were incontestably sound. -After a time (which in 1858 lasted three or four hours), her gaiety -disappeared, the torpor suddenly ensued, and in two or three minutes -she opened her eyes and re-entered her ordinary life, resuming any work -she was engaged in just where she left off. In this state she bemoaned -her condition, and was quite unconscious of what had passed in the -previous state. If asked to continue a ballad she had been singing, she -knew nothing about it, and if she had received a visitor, she believed -she had seen no one. The forgetfulness extended to everything which -happened during her second state, and not to any ideas or information -acquired before her illness.' Thus her early life was held in -remembrance during both her conditions, her consciousness in these two -conditions being in this respect single; in her second or less usual -condition she remembered also all the events of her life, including -what had passed since these seizures began; and it was only in her -more usual condition that a portion of her life was lost to her—that, -namely, which had passed during her second condition. In 1858 a new -phenomenon was noticed as occasionally occurring—she would sometimes -wake from her second condition in a fit of terror, recognising no one -but her husband. The terror did not last long, however; and during -sixteen years of her married life, her husband only noticed this terror -on thirty occasions.</p> - -<p>A painful circumstance preceding her marriage somewhat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> forcibly -exhibited the distinction between her two states of consciousness. -Rigid in morality during her usual condition, she was shocked by the -insults of a brutal neighbour, who told her of a confession made to -M. Azam during her second condition, and accused her of shamming -innocence. The attack—unfortunately, but too well founded as far as -facts were concerned—brought on violent convulsions, which required -medical attendance during two or three hours. It is important to -notice the difference thus indicated between the character of the -personalities corresponding to her two conditions. 'Her moral -faculties,' says M. Azam, 'were incontestably sound in her second life, -though different,'—by which, be it understood, he means simply that -her sense of right and wrong was just during her second condition, -not, of course, that her conduct was irreproachable. She was in this -condition, as in the other, altogether responsible for her actions. -But her power of self-control, or rather perhaps the relative power of -her will as compared with tendencies to wrong-doing, was manifestly -weaker during her second condition. In fact, in one condition she -was oppressed and saddened by pain and anxiety, whereas in the other -she was almost free from pain, gay, light-hearted, and hopeful. Now -I cannot altogether agree with Mr. Slack's remark, that if, during -her second state, 'she had committed a robbery or an assassination, -no moral responsibility could have been assumed to rest upon her with -any certainty, by any one acquainted with her history,' for her moral -faculties in her second condition being incontestably sound, she was -clearly responsible for her actions while in that condition. But -certainly, the question of punishment for such an offence would be not -a little complicated by her twofold personality. To the woman in her -ordinary condition, remembering nothing of the crime committed (on the -supposition we are dealing with), in her abnormal condition, punishment -for that crime would certainly seem unjust, seeing that her liability -to enter into that condition had not in any degree depended on her own -will. The drunkard who, waking in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> the morning with no recollection -of the events of the past night, finds himself in gaol for some crime -committed during that time, although he may think the punishment he has -to endure severe measure for a crime of which in his ordinary condition -he is incapable, knows at least that he is responsible for placing -himself under that influence which made the crime possible. Supposing -even he had not had sufficient experience of his own character when -under the influence of liquor, to have reason to fear he might be -guilty of the offence, he yet perceives that to make intoxication -under any circumstances an excuse for crime would be most dangerous -to the community, and that he suffers punishment justly. But the case -of dual consciousness is altogether different, and certainly where -responsibility exists under both conditions, while yet impulse and the -restraining power of will are differently related in one and the other -condition, the problem of satisfying justice is a most perplexing one. -Here are in effect two different persons residing in one body, and it -is impossible to punish one without punishing the other also. Supposing -justice waited until the abnormal condition was resumed, then the -offender would probably recognise the justice of punishment; but if the -effects of the punishment continued until the usual condition returned, -a person would suffer who was conscious of no crime. If the offence -were murder, and if capital punishment were inflicted, the ordinary -individuality, innocent entirely of murder, would be extinguished along -with the first, a manifest injustice. As Huxley says of a similar case, -'the problem of responsibility is here as complicated as that of the -prince-bishop, who swore as a prince and not as a bishop. 'But, your -highness, if the prince is damned, what will become of the bishop?' -said the peasant.'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span><a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></p> - -<p>It does not appear to me that there is in the case of Felida X. any -valid reason for regarding the theory of two brains as the only -available explanation. It is a noteworthy circumstance, that the pains -preceding each change of condition affected both sides of the head. -Some modification of the circulation seems suggested as the true -explanation of the changes in condition, though the precise nature -of such modification, or how it may have been brought about, would -probably be very difficult to determine. The state of health, however, -on which the attacks depended seems to have affected the whole body of -the patient, and the case presents no features suggesting any lateral -localisation of the cerebral changes.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, the case of Sergeant F. (a few of the circumstances -of which were mentioned in my essay entitled 'Have we two Brains?'), -seems to correspond with Dr. Holland's theory, though that theory is -far from explaining all the circumstances. The man was wounded by -a bullet which fractured his <i>left</i> parietal bone, and his <i>right</i> -arm and leg were almost immediately paralysed. When he recovered -consciousness three weeks later, the <i>right</i> side of the body was -completely paralysed, and remained so for a year. These circumstances -indicate that the cause of the mischief still existing lay in the shock -which the left side of the brain received when the man was wounded. -The right side may have learned (as it were) to exercise the functions -formerly belonging to the left side, and thus the paralysis affecting -the right side until this had happened may have passed away. These -points are discussed in the essay above named, however, and need not -here detain us. Others which were not then dealt with may now be -noted with advantage. We would specially note some which render it -doubtful whether in the abnormal condition the man's brain acts at all, -whether in fact his condition, so far as consciousness was concerned, -is not similar to that of a frog deprived of its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> brain in a certain -well-known experiment. (This appears to be the opinion to which -Professor Huxley inclines, though, with proper scientific caution, he -seems disposed to suspend his judgment.) The facts are very singular, -whatever the explanation may be.</p> - -<p>In the normal condition, the man is what he was before he was -wounded—an intelligent, kindly fellow, performing satisfactorily the -duties of a hospital attendant. The abnormal state is ushered in by -pains in the forehead, as if caused by the constriction of a band of -iron. In this state the eyes are open and the pupils dilated. (The -reader will remember Charles Reade's description of David Dodd's eyes, -'like those of a seal.') The eyeballs work incessantly, and the jaws -maintain a chewing motion. If the man is <i>en pays de connaissance</i>, -he walks about as usual; but in a new place, or if obstacles are set -in his way, he stumbles, feels about with his hands, and so finds his -way. He offers no resistance to any forces which may act upon him, -and shows no signs of pain if pins are thrust into his body by kindly -experimenters. No noise affects him. He eats and drinks apparently -without tasting or smelling his food, accepting assafœtida or -vinegar as readily as the finest claret. He is sensible to light -only under certain conditions. But the sense of touch is strangely -exalted (in all respects apparently except as to sensations of pain or -pleasure), taking in fact the place of all the other senses. I say the -sense of touch, but it is not clear whether there is any real sensation -at all. The man appears in the abnormal condition to be a mere machine. -This is strikingly exemplified in the following case, which I translate -directly from Dr. Mesnet's account:—'He was walking in the garden -under a group of trees, and his stick, which he had dropped a few -minutes before, was placed in his hands. He feels it, moves his hand -several times along the bent handle of the stick, becomes watchful, -seems to listen, suddenly he calls out, "Henry!" then, "There they are! -there are at least a score of them! join us two, we shall manage it." -And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> then putting his hand behind his back as if to take a cartridge, -he goes through the movement of loading his weapon, lays himself -flat on the grass, his head concealed by a tree, in the posture of a -sharpshooter, and with shouldered weapon follows all the movements of -the enemy whom he fancies he sees at a short distance.' This, however, -is an assumption: the man cannot in this state <i>fancy</i> he sees, unless -he has at least a recollection of the sensation of sight, and this -would imply cerebral activity. Huxley, more cautious, says justly -that the question arises 'whether the series of actions constituting -this singular pantomime was accompanied by the ordinary states of -consciousness or not? Did the man dream that he was skirmishing? or was -he in the condition of one of Vaucanson's automata—a mechanism worked -by molecular changes in his nervous system? The analogy of the frog -shows that the latter assumption is perfectly justifiable.'</p> - -<p>The pantomimic actions just related corresponded to what probably -happened a few moments before the man was wounded; but this human -automaton (so to call him, without theorising as to his actual -condition) goes through other performances. He has a good voice, and -was at one time a singer in a <i>café</i>. 'In one of his abnormal states he -was observed to begin humming a tune. He then went to his room, dressed -himself carefully, and took up some parts of a periodical novel which -lay on his bed, as if he were trying to find something. Dr. Mesnet, -suspecting that he was seeking his music, made up one of these into a -roll and put it into his hand. He appeared satisfied, took up his cane -and went downstairs to the door. Here Dr. Mesnet, turned him round, and -he walked quite contentedly in the opposite direction, towards the room -of the <i>concierge</i>. The light of the sun shining through a window now -happened to fall upon him, and seemed to suggest the footlights of the -stage on which he was accustomed to make his appearance. He stopped, -opened his roll of imaginary music, put himself into the attitude of a -singer, and sung, with perfect execu<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>tion, three songs, one after the -other. After which he wiped his face with his handkerchief and drank, -without a grimace, a tumbler of strong vinegar and water which was put -into his hand.'</p> - -<p>But the most remarkable part of the whole story is that which follows. -'Sitting at a table in one of his abnormal states, Sergeant F. took -up a pen, felt for paper and ink, and began to write a letter to his -general, in which he recommended himself for a medal on account of -his good conduct and courage.' (Rather a strange thing, by the way, -for a mere automaton to do.) 'It occurred to Dr. Mesnet to ascertain -experimentally how far vision was concerned in this act of writing. He -therefore interposed a screen between the man's eyes and his hands; -under these circumstances, F. went on writing for a short time, but the -words became illegible, and he finally stopped, without manifesting -any discontent. On the withdrawal of the screen, he began to write -again where he had left off. The substitution of water for ink in the -inkstand had a similar result. He stopped, looked at his pen, wiped it -on his coat, dipped it in the water, and began again with a similar -result. On another occasion, he began to write upon the topmost of -ten superimposed sheets of paper. After he had written a line or two, -this sheet was suddenly drawn away. There was a slight expression of -surprise, but he continued his letter on the second sheet exactly as if -it had been the first. This operation was repeated five times, so that -the fifth sheet contained nothing but the writer's signature at the -bottom of the page. Nevertheless, when the signature was finished, his -eyes turned to the top of the blank sheet, and he went through the form -of reading what he had written—a movement of the lips accompanying -each word; moreover, with his pen, he put in such corrections as were -needed, in that part of the blank page which corresponded with the -position of the words which required correction in the sheets which had -been taken away. If the five sheets had been transparent, therefore, -they would, when superposed, have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> formed a properly written and -corrected letter. Immediately after he had written his letter, F. got -up, walked down to the garden, made himself a cigarette, lighted and -smoked it. He was about to prepare another, but sought in vain for his -tobacco-pouch, which had been purposely taken away. The pouch was now -thrust before his eyes and put under his nose, but he neither saw nor -smelt it; when, however, it was placed in his hand, he at once seized -it, made a fresh cigarette, and ignited a match to light the latter. -The match was blown out, and another lighted match placed close before -his eyes, but he made no attempt to take it; and if his cigarette was -lighted for him, he made no attempt to smoke. All this time his eyes -were vacant, and neither winked nor exhibited any contraction of the -pupil.'</p> - -<p>These and other similar experiments are explained by Dr. Mesnet (and -Professor Huxley appears to agree with him) by the theory that F. 'sees -some things and not others; that the sense of sight is accessible to -all things which are brought into relation with him by the sense of -touch, and, on the contrary, insensible to all things which lie outside -this relation.' It seems to me that the evidence scarcely supports -this conclusion. In every case where F. appears to see, it is quite -possible that in reality he is guided entirely by the sense of touch. -All the circumstances accord much better with this explanation than -with the theory that the sense of sight was in any way affected. Thus -the sunlight shining through the window must have affected the sense of -touch, and in a manner similar to what F. had experienced when before -the footlights of the stage, where he was accustomed to appear as a -singer. In this respect there was a much closer resemblance between -the effect of sunlight and that of the light from footlights, than in -the circumstances under which both sources of light affect the sense -of sight. For in one case the light came from above, in the other from -below; the heat would in neither case be sensibly localised. Again, -when a screen was interposed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> between his eyes and the paper on which -he was writing, he probably became conscious of its presence in the -same way that a blind man is conscious of the presence of objects near -him, even (in some cases) of objects quite remote, by some subtle -effects discernible by the sense of touch excited to abnormal relative -activity in the absence of impressions derived from the sense of -sight. It is true that one might have expected him to continue writing -legibly, notwithstanding the interposed screen; but the consciousness -of the existence of what in his normal condition would effectually -have prevented his writing legibly, would be sufficient to explain -his failure. If, while in full possession of all our senses, the -expectation of failure quite commonly causes failure, how much more -likely would this be to happen to a man in F.'s unfortunate abnormal -condition. The sense of touch again would suffice to indicate the -presence of water instead of ink in his pen when he was writing. I -question whether the difference might not be recognised by any person -of sensitive touch after a little practice; but certainly a blind -man, whose sense of touch was abnormally developed, would recognise -the difference, as we know from experiments which have indicated even -greater delicacy of perception than would be required for this purpose. -The experiment with superposed sheets of paper is more remarkable than -any of the others, but certainly does not suggest that light makes -any impression upon Sergeant F. It proves, in fact, so far as any -experiment could prove such a point, that the sense of touch alone -regulates the man's movements. Unconscious of any change (because, -after the momentary surprise produced by the withdrawal of the paper, -he still found he had paper to write on), he continued writing. He -certainly did not in this case, as Dr. Mesnet suggests, see all things -which are brought into relation with him by the sense of touch; for if -he had, he would not have continued to write when he found the words -already written no longer discernible.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> - -<p>On the whole, it appears reasonable to conclude, as Professor Huxley -does, that though F. may be conscious in his abnormal state, he may -also be a mere automaton for the time being. The only circumstance -which seems to oppose itself very markedly to the latter view is the -letter-writing. Everything else that this man did was what he had -already done prior to the accident. If it could be shown that the -letters written in his abnormal state were transcripts, not merely -<i>verbatim et literatim</i>, but exact in every point, of some which he -had written before he was wounded, then a strong case would be made -out for the automaton theory. Certainly, few instances have come under -the experience of scientific men where a human being has so closely -resembled a mere machine as this man appears to do in his abnormal -condition.</p> - -<p>The moral nature of F. in his abnormal condition is for this reason -a matter of less interest than it would be, did he show more of the -semblance of conscious humanity. Still it is worthy of notice, that, -whereas in his normal condition he is a perfectly honest man, in -his abnormal state 'he is an inveterate thief, stealing and hiding -away whatever he can lay hands on with much dexterity, and with an -absolutely absurd indifference as to whether the property is his own or -not.'</p> - -<p>It will be observed that the cases of dual consciousness thus far -considered, though alike in some respects, present characteristic -divergences. In that of the boy at Norwood, the two characters were -very similar, so far as can be judged, and each life was distinct -from the other. The next case was only introduced to illustrate the -resemblance in certain respects between the phenomena of somnambulism -and those of double or rather alternating consciousness. The woman -Felida X. changed markedly in character when she passed from one state -to the other. Her case was also distinguished from that of the boy by -the circumstance that in one state she was conscious of what had passed -in the other, but while in this other state was unconscious of what -had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> passed in the former. Lastly, in Sergeant F.'s case we have to -deal with the effect of an injury to the brain, and find a much greater -difference between the two conditions than in the other cases. Not only -does the man change in character, but it may justly be said that he is -little more than an animal, even if he can be regarded as more than a -mere automaton while in the abnormal condition. We find that a similar -variety characterises other stories of double consciousness. Not only -are no two cases closely alike, but no case has been noted which has -not been distinguished by some very marked feature from all others.</p> - -<p>Thus, although in certain respects the case we have next to consider -resembles very significantly the case of Sergeant F., it also has a -special significance of its own, and may help us to interpret the -general problem presented to us by the phenomena of dual consciousness. -I abridge, and in some respects simplify, the account given by Dr. -Carpenter in his interesting treatise on <i>Mental Physiology</i>. Comments -of my own are distinguished from the abridged narrative by being placed -within brackets:—</p> - -<p>A young woman of robust constitution had narrowly escaped drowning. -She was insensible for six hours, and continued unwell after being -restored to animation. Ten days later she was seized with a fit of -complete stupor, which lasted four hours; when she opened her eyes she -seemed to recognise no one, and appeared to be utterly deprived of -the senses of hearing, taste, and smell, as well as of the power of -speech. Sight and touch remained, but though movements were excited -and controlled by these senses, they seemed to arouse no ideas in her -mind. In fact, her mental faculties seemed entirely suspended. Her -vision at short distances was quick, and the least touch startled her; -but unless she was touched or an object were placed where she could not -help seeing it, she took no notice of what was passing around her. [It -does not appear to me certain that at this stage of her illness she -<i>saw</i> in the ordinary sense of the word; the sense of touch may alone<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> -have been affected, as it certainly is affected to some degree by any -object so placed that <i>it could not but be seen by a short-sighted -person</i>. But it is clear that later the sense of sight was restored, -supposing, which is not perhaps probable, that it was ever lost in -the early stage.] She did not even know her own mother, who attended -constantly upon her. Wherever she was placed she remained. Her appetite -was good, but [like F.] she ate indifferently whatever she was fed -with, and took nauseous medicines as readily as agreeable food. Her -movements were solely of the automatic kind. Thus, she swallowed food -put into her mouth, but made no effort to feed herself. Yet when her -mother had conveyed the spoon [in the patient's hand] a few times to -her mouth, the patient continued the operation. It was necessary, -however, to repeat this lesson every time she was fed, showing the -complete absence of memory. 'The very limited nature of her faculties, -and the automatic life she was leading, appear further evident from the -following particulars. One of her first acts on recovering from the -fit had been to busy herself in picking the bedclothes; and as soon -as she was able to sit up and be dressed, she continued the habit by -incessantly picking some portion of her dress. She seemed to want an -occupation for her fingers, and accordingly part of an old straw bonnet -was given to her, which she pulled into pieces with great minuteness; -she was afterwards bountifully supplied with roses: she picked off the -leaves, and then tore them up into the smallest particles imaginable. -A few days subsequently, she began forming upon the table, out of -those minute particles, rude figures of roses, and other common garden -flowers; she had never received any instructions in drawing. Roses -not being so plentiful in London, waste paper and a pair of scissors -were put into her hand, and for some days she found an occupation in -cutting the paper into shreds; after a time these cuttings assumed rude -shapes and figures, and more particularly the shapes used in patchwork. -At length she was supplied with proper materials for patchwork, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> -after some initiatory instruction, she took to her needle and to this -employment in good earnest. She now laboured incessantly at patchwork -from morning till night, and on Sundays and week-days, for she knew no -difference of days; nor could she be made to comprehend the difference. -She had no remembrance from day to day of what she had been doing on -the previous day, and so every morning commenced <i>de novo</i>. Whatever -she began, that she continued to work at while daylight lasted; -manifesting no uneasiness for anything to eat or drink, taking not the -slightest heed of anything which was going on around her, but intent -only on her patchwork.' From this time she began to improve, learning -like a child to register ideas. She presently learned worsted-work, -and showed delight in the harmony of colours and considerable taste in -selecting between good and bad patterns. After a while she began to -devise patterns of her own. But she still had no memory from day to day -of what she had done, and unless the unfinished work of one day was set -before her on the next, she would begin something new.</p> - -<p>And now, for the first time, ideas derived from her life before her -illness seemed to be awakened within her. When pictures of flowers, -trees, and animals were shown her, she was pleased; but when she -was shown a landscape in which there was a river or a troubled sea, -she became violently agitated, and a fit of spasmodic rigidity and -insensibility immediately followed. The mere sight of water in motion -made her shudder. Again, from an early stage of her illness she had -derived pleasure from the proximity of a young man to whom she had been -attached. At a time when she did not remember from one hour to another -what she was doing, she would anxiously await his evening visit, and -be fretful if he failed to pay it. When, during her removal to the -country, she lost sight of him, she became unhappy and suffered from -frequent fits; on the other hand, when he remained constantly near her, -she improved in health, and early associations were gradually awakened.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> - -<p>At length a day came when she uttered her first word in this her second -life. She had learned to take heed of objects and persons around her; -and on one occasion, seeing her mother excessively agitated, she became -excited herself, and suddenly, yet hesitatingly, exclaimed, 'What's the -matter?' After this she began to articulate a few words. For a time she -called every object and person 'this,' then gave their right names to -wild flowers (of which she had been passionately fond when a child), -and this 'at a time when she exhibited not the least recollection of -the "old familiar friends and places" of her childhood.' The gradual -expansion of her intellect was manifested chiefly at this time in signs -of emotional excitement, frequently followed by attacks of spasmodic -rigidity and insensibility.</p> - -<p>It was through the emotions that the patient was restored to the -consciousness of her former self. She became aware that her lover -was paying attention to another woman, and the emotion of jealousy -was so strongly excited, that she had a fit of insensibility which -resembled her first attack in duration and severity. But it restored -her to herself. 'When the insensibility passed off, she was no longer -spell-bound. The veil of oblivion was withdrawn; and, as if awakening -from a sleep of twelve months' duration, she found herself surrounded -by her grandfather, grandmother, and their familiar friends and -acquaintances. She awoke in the possession of her natural faculties and -former knowledge; but without the slightest remembrance of anything -which had taken place in the year's interval, from the invasion of -the first fit to the [then] present time. She spoke, but she heard -not; she was still deaf, but being able to read and write as formerly, -she was no longer cut off from communication with others. From this -time she rapidly improved, but for some time continued deaf. She soon -perfectly understood by the motion of her lips what her mother said; -they conversed with facility and quickness together, but she did not -understand the language of the lips of a stranger. She was completely -unaware of the change<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> in her lover's affections which had taken -place in her state of second consciousness; and a painful explanation -was necessary. This, however, she bore very well; and she has since -recovered her previous bodily and mental health.</p> - -<p>There is little in this interesting narrative to suggest that the -duality of consciousness in this case was in any way dependent on the -duality of the brain. During the patient's abnormal condition, the -functions of the brain [proper] would seem to have been for a time -in complete abeyance, and then to have been gradually restored. One -can perceive no reason for supposing that the shock she had sustained -would affect one side rather than the other side of the brain, nor why -her recovery should restore one side to activity and cause the side -which (on the dual brain hypothesis) had been active during her second -condition to resume its original activity. The phenomena appear to -suggest that in some way the molecular arrangement of the brain matter -became modified during her second condition; and that when the original -arrangement was restored all recognisable traces of impressions -received while the abnormal arrangement lasted were obliterated. As Mr. -Slack presents one form of this idea, 'the grey matter of the brain may -have its molecules arranged in patterns somewhat analogous to those -of steel filings under the influence of a magnet, but in some way the -direction of the forces—or vibrations—may be changed in them. The -pattern will then be different.' We know certainly that thought and -sensation depend on material processes,—chemical reactions between -the blood and the muscular tissues. Without the free circulation of -blood in the brain, there can be neither clear thought nor ready -sensation. With changes in the nature of the circulation come changes -in the quality of thought and the nature of sensation, and with them -the emotions are changed also. Such changes affect all of us to some -degree. It may well be that such cases as we have been dealing with are -simply instances of the exaggerated operation of causes with which we -are all familiar; and it may also be that in the exaggera<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>tion itself -of these causes of change lies the explanation of the characteristic -peculiarity of cases of dual consciousness,—the circumstances, namely, -that either the two states of consciousness are absolutely distinct -one from the other, or that in one state only are events remembered -which happened in the other, no recollection whatever remaining in this -latter state of what happened in the other, or, lastly, that only faint -impressions excited by some intense emotion experienced in one state -remain in the other state.</p> - -<p>It seems possible, also, that some cases of another kind may find -their explanation in this direction, as, for instance, cases in which, -through some strange sympathy, the brain of one person so responds to -the thoughts of another that for the time being the personality of the -person thus influenced may be regarded as in effect changed into that -of the person producing the influence. Thus, in one singular case cited -by Dr. Carpenter, a lady was 'metamorphosed into the worthy clergyman -on whose ministry she attended, and with whom she was personally -intimate. I shall never forget,' he says, 'the intensity of the -lackadaisical tone in which she replied to the matrimonial counsels of -the physician to whom he (she) had been led to give a long detail of -his (her) hypochondriacal symptoms: "A wife for a dying man, doctor." -No <i>intentional</i> simulation could have approached the exactness of the -imitation alike in tone, manners, and language, which spontaneously -proceeded from the idea with which the fair subject was possessed, -that she herself experienced all the discomforts whose detail she had -doubtless frequently heard from the real sufferer.' The same lady, at -Dr. Carpenter's request, mentally 'ascended in a balloon and proceded -to the North Pole in search of Sir John Franklin, whom she found alive, -and her description of his appearance and that of his companions was -given with an inimitable expression of sorrow and pity.'</p> - -<p>It appears to us that very great interest attaches to the researches -made by Prof. Barrett into cases of this kind, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> that it is in -this direction we are to look for the explanation of many mysterious -phenomena formerly regarded as supernatural, but probably all -admitting (at least all that have been properly authenticated) of -being interpreted so soon as the circumstances on which consciousness -depends shall have been determined. Thus the following account of -experiments made at the village school in Westmeath seem especially -suggestive: 'Selecting some of the village children, and placing them -in a quiet room, giving each some small object to look at steadily, -he found one amongst the number who readily passed into a state of -reverie. In that state the subject could be made to believe the most -extravagant statements, such as that the table was a mountain, a -chair a pony, a mark on the floor, an insuperable obstacle. The girl -thus mesmerised passed on the second occasion into a state of deeper -sleep or trance, wherein no sensation whatever was experienced, unless -accompanied by pressure on the eyebrows of the subject. When the -pressure of the fingers was removed, the girl fell back in her chair -utterly unconscious of all around, and had lost all control over her -voluntary muscles. On reapplying the pressure, though her eyes remained -closed, she sat up and answered questions readily, but the manner in -which she answered them, her acts and expressions, were capable of -wonderful diversity, by merely altering the place on the head where the -pressure was applied. So sudden and marked were the changes produced -by a movement of the fingers, that the operation seemed very like -playing on some musical instrument. On a third occasion the subject, -after passing through these, which have been termed the biological -and phrenological states, became at length keenly and wonderfully -sensitive to the voice and acts of the operator. It was impossible for -the latter to call the girl by her name, however faintly and inaudibly -to those around, without at once eliciting a prompt response. If the -operator tasted, smelt, or touched anything, or experienced any sudden -sensation of warmth or cold, a corresponding effect was produced on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> -the subject, though nothing was said, nor could the subject have seen -what had occurred to the operator. To be assured of this he bandaged -the girl's eyes with great care, and the operator having gone behind -the girl to the other end of the room, he watched him and the girl, and -repeatedly assured himself of this fact.' Thus far, Professor Barrett's -observations, depending in part on what the operator experienced, may -be open to just so much doubt as may affect our opinion of the veracity -of a person unknown; but in what follows we have his own experience -alone to consider. 'Having mesmerised the girl himself, he took a card -at random from a pack which was in a drawer in another room. Glancing -at the card to see what it was, he placed it within a book, and in that -state brought it to the girl. Giving her the closed book, he asked -her to tell him what he had put within its leaves. She held the book -close to the side of her head, and said, 'I see something inside with -red spots on it; and she afterwards said there were five red spots on -it. The card was the five of diamonds. The same result occurred with -another card; and when an Irish bank-note was substituted for the card, -she said, 'Oh, now I see a number of heads—so many that I cannot -count them.' He found that she sometimes failed to guess correctly, -asserting that the things were dim; and she could give no information -of what was within the book unless he had previously known what it -was himself. More remarkable still, he asked her to go in imagination -to Regent Street, in London, and tell him what shops she had seen. -The girl had never been out of her remote village, but she correctly -described to him Mr. Ladd's shop, of which he happened to be thinking, -and mentioned the large clock that overhangs the entrance to Beak -Street. In many other cases he convinced himself that the existence of -a distinct idea in his own mind gave rise to an image of the idea (that -is, to a corresponding image) on the mind of the subject; not always -a clear image, but one that could not fail to be recognised as a more -or less distorted reflection of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> his own thought.' It is important to -notice the limit which a scientific observer thus recognised in the -range of the subjects' perception. It has been stated that subjects -in this condition have been able to describe occurrences not known to -any person, which yet have been subsequently verified. Although some -narratives of the kind have come from persons not likely to relate -what they <i>knew</i> to be untrue, the possibility of error outweighs the -probability that such narratives can really be true. There is a form -of unconscious cerebration by which untruthful narratives come to be -concocted in the mind. For instance, Dr. Carpenter heard a scrupulously -conscientious lady asseverate that a table 'rapped' when nobody was -within a yard of it; but the story was disproved by the lady herself, -who found from her note-book, recording what really took place, that -the hands of six persons rested on the table when it rapped. And apart -from the unconscious fiction-producing power of the mind, there is -always the possibility, nay, often the extreme probability, that the -facts of a case may be misunderstood. Persons may be supposed to know -nothing about an event who have been conscious of its every detail; -nay, a person may himself be unconscious of his having known, and in -fact of his really knowing, of a particular event. Dual consciousness -in this particular sense is a quite common experience, as, for -instance, when a story is told us which we receive at first as new, -until gradually the recollection dawns upon us and becomes momentarily -clearer and clearer, not only that we have heard it before, but of the -circumstances under which we heard it, and even of details which the -narrator from whom a few moments before we receive it as a new story -has omitted to mention.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span><a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></p> - -<p>The most important of all the questions depending on dual consciousness -is one into which I could not properly enter at any length in these -pages—the question, namely, of the relation between the condition of -the brain and responsibility, whether such responsibility be considered -with reference to human laws or to a higher and all-knowing tribunal. -But there are some points not wanting in interest which may be here -more properly considered.</p> - -<p>In the first place it is to be noticed that a person who has passed -into a state of abnormal consciousness, or who is in the habit of doing -so, can have no knowledge of the fact in his normal condition except -from the information of others. The boy at Norwood might be told of -what he had said and done while in his less usual condition, but so -far as any experience of his own was concerned, he might during all -that time have been in a profound sleep. Similarly of all the other -cases. So that we have here the singular circumstance to consider, that -a person may have to depend on the information of others respecting -his own behaviour—not during sleep or mental aberration or ordinary -absence of mind—but (in some cases at least) while in possession of -all his faculties and unquestionably responsible for his actions. Not -only might a person find himself thus held responsible for actions -of which he had no knowledge, and perhaps undeservedly blamed or -condemned, but he might find himself regarded as untruthful because of -his perfectly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> honest denial of all knowledge of the conduct attributed -to him. If such cases were common, again, it would not improbably -happen that the simulation of dual consciousness would become a -frequent means of attempting to evade responsibility.</p> - -<p>Another curious point to be noticed is this. Supposing one subject -to alternations of consciousness were told that in his abnormal -condition he suffered intense pain or mental anguish in consequence -of particular actions during his normal state, how far would he be -influenced to refrain from such actions by the fear of causing pain -or sorrow to his 'double,' a being of whose pains and sorrows, nay, -of whose very existence, he was unconscious? In ordinary life a man -refrains from particular actions which have been followed by unpleasant -consequences, reasoning, in some cases, 'I will not do so-and-so, -because I suffered on such and such occasions when I did so' (we set -religious considerations entirely on one side by assuming that the -particular actions are not contrary to any moral law), in others, 'I -will not do so-and-so because my so doing on former occasions has -caused trouble to my friend A or B:' but it is strange to imagine any -one reasoning, 'I will not do so-and-so because my so doing on former -occasions has caused my second self to experience pain and anguish, -of which I myself have not the slightest recollection.' A man may -care for his own well-being, or be unwilling to bring trouble on his -friends, but who is that second self that his troubles should excite -the sympathy of his fellow-consciousness? The considerations here -touched on are not so entirely beyond ordinary experience as might be -supposed. It may happen to any man to have occasion to enter into an -apparently unconscious condition during which in reality severe pains -may be suffered by another self, though on his return to his ordinary -condition no recollection of those pains may remain, and though to all -appearance he has been all the time in a state of absolute stupor; and -it may be a reasonable question, not perhaps whether he or his double -shall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> suffer such pains, but whether the body which both inhabit will -suffer while he is unconscious, or while that other consciousness comes -into existence. That this is no imaginary supposition is shown by -several cases in Abercrombie's treatise on the 'Intellectual Powers.' -Take, for instance, the following narrative:—'A boy,' he tells us, 'at -the age of four suffered fracture of the skull, for which he underwent -the operation of the trepan. He was at the time in a state of perfect -stupor, and after his recovery retained no recollection either of the -accident or of the operation. At the age of fifteen, however, during -the delirium of fever, he gave his mother an account of the operation, -and the persons who were present at it, with a correct description of -their dress, and other minute particulars. He had never been observed -to allude to it before; and no means were known by which he could -have acquired the circumstances which he mentioned.' Suppose one day -a person in the delirium of fever or under some other exciting cause -should describe the tortures experienced during some operation, when, -under the influence of anæsthetics, he had appeared to all around to be -totally unconscious, dwelling in a special manner perhaps on the horror -of pains accompanied by utter powerlessness to shriek or groan, or even -to move; how far would the possibilities suggested by such a narrative -influence one who had a painful operation to undergo, knowing as he -would quite certainly, that whatever pains his <i>alter ego</i> might have -to suffer, not the slightest recollection of them would remain in his -ordinary condition?</p> - -<p>There is indeed almost as strange a mystery in unconsciousness as there -is in the phenomena of dual consciousness. The man who has passed for -a time into unconsciousness through a blow, or fall, or fit, cannot -help asking himself like Bernard Langdon in that weird tale, Elsie -Venner, 'Where was the mind, the soul, the thinking principle all that -time?' It is irresistibly borne in upon him that he has been dead for -a time. As Holmes reasons, 'a man is stunned by a blow and becomes -unconscious,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> another gets a harder blow and it kills him. Does he -become unconscious too? If so, <i>when</i>, and <i>how does he come to his -consciousness</i>? The man who has had a slight and moderate blow comes -to himself when the immediate shock passes off and the organs begin to -work again, or when a bit of the skull is "pried" up, if that happens -to be broken. Suppose the blow is hard enough to spoil the brain and -stop the play of the organs, what happens then?' So far as physical -science is concerned, there is no answer to this question; but physical -science does not as yet comprehend all the knowable, and the knowable -comprehends not all that has been, is, and will be. What we know and -can know is nothing, the unknown and the unknowable are alike infinite.</p> - - - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Should any doubt whether these conditions of dual -existence are a reality (a doubt, however, which the next case dealt -with in the text should remove), we would remind them that a similar -difficulty unmistakably existed in the case of Eng and Chang, the -Siamese twins. It would have been almost impossible to inflict any -punishment on one by which the other would not have suffered, and -capital punishment inflicted on one would have involved the death of -the other.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> An instance of the sort turns up in Pope's correspondence -with Addison, and serves to explain a discrepancy between Tickell's -edition of the <i>Spectator</i> and the original. In No. 253, Addison had -remarked that none of the critics had taken notice of a peculiarity in -the description of Sisyphus lifting his stone up the hill, which is -no sooner carried to the top of it but it immediately tumbles to the -bottom. 'This double motion,' says Addison, 'is admirably described -in the numbers of those verses. In the four first it is heaved up by -several spondees intermixed with proper breathing places, and at last -trundles down in a continual line of dactyls.' On this Pope remarks: -'I happened to find the same in Dionysius of Halicarnassus's Treatise, -who treats very largely upon these verses. I know you will think fit to -soften your expression, when you see the passage, which you must needs -have read, though it be since slipt out of your memory.' These words, -by the way, were the last (except 'I am, with the utmost esteem, &c.') -ever addressed by Pope to Addison. It was in this letter that Pope -with sly malice asked Addison to look over the first two books of his -(Pope's) translation of Homer.</p></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="ph2"><a name="ELECTRIC_LIGHTING" id="ELECTRIC_LIGHTING"><i>ELECTRIC LIGHTING.</i></a></p> - - -<p>Although we certainly have no reason to complain of the infrequency -of attempts in newspapers, &c., as well as in scientific journals, to -explain the principles on which electric lighting depends, it does -not seem that very clear ideas are entertained on this subject by -unscientific persons. Nor is this, perhaps, to be wondered at, when -we observe that in nearly all the explanations which have appeared, -technical expressions are quite freely used, while those matters -about which the general reader especially desires information are -passed over as points with which every one is familiar. Now, without -going quite so far as to say that there is no exaggeration in the -picture presented some time back in <i>Punch</i>, of one who asked whether -the electric fluid was 'anything like beer, for instance,' I may -confidently assert that the very vaguest notions are entertained by -nine-tenths of those who hear about the electric light, respecting -the nature of electricity. Of course, I am not here referring to the -doubts and difficulties of electricians on this subject. It is well -known that Faraday, after a life of research into electrical phenomena, -said that when he had studied electricity for a few years he thought -he understood much, but when he had nearly finished his observational -work he found he knew nothing. In the sense in which Faraday spoke, the -most advanced students of science must admit that they know nothing -about electricity. But the greater number of those who read about -the electric light are not familiar even with electrical phenomena, -as distinguished from the inter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>pretation of such phenomena. I am -satisfied that there is no exaggeration in a passage which appeared -recently in the 'Table Talk' of the <i>Gentleman's Magazine</i>, describing -an account of the electric light as obtained from some new kind of gas, -carried in pipes from central reservoirs, and chiefly differing from -common gas in this, that the heat resulting from its consumption melted -ordinary burners, so that only burners of carbon or platinum could be -safely employed.</p> - -<p>I do not propose here to discuss, or even to describe (in the proper -sense of the word) the various methods of electric lighting which -have been either used or suggested. What I wish to do is to give a -simple explanation of the general principles on which illumination by -electricity depends, and to consider the advantages which this method -of illumination appears to promise or possess.</p> - -<p>Novel as the idea of using electricity for illuminating large spaces -may appear to many, we have all of us been long familiar with the -fact that electricity is capable of replacing the darkness of night -by the light of broad day over areas far larger than those which our -electricians hope to illuminate. The lightning flash makes in an -instant every object visible on the darkest night, not only in the -open air, but in the interior of carefully darkened rooms. Nay, even -if the shutters of a room are carefully closed and the room strongly -illuminated, the lightning flash can yet be clearly recognised. -And it must be remembered that though the suddenness of the flash -makes us the more readily perceive it (under such circumstances, for -instance), yet its short duration diminishes its apparent intensity. -This may appear a contradiction in terms, but is not so in reality. The -perception that there has been a sudden lighting up of the sky or of a -room, is distinct from the recognition of the actual intensity of the -illumination thus momentarily produced. Now it is quite certain that -the eye cannot assign less than a twenty-fifth of a second or so to the -duration of the lightning flash, for, as Newton long since showed, the -retina<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> retains the sensation of light for at least this interval after -the light has disappeared. It is equally certain, from Wheatstone's -experiments, that the lightning flash does not actually endure for the -100,000th part of a second. Adopting this last number, though it falls -far short of the truth—the actual duration being probably less than -1,000,000th of a second—we see that so far as the eye is concerned, an -amount of light which was really emitted during the 100,000th part of -a second is by the eye judged to have been emitted during an interval -4,000 times as long. It is certain, then, that the eye's estimate of -the intensity of the illumination resulting from a lightning flash is -far short of the truth. This is equally true even in those cases where -lightning is said to be for awhile continuous. If the flashes for a -time succeed each other at less intervals than a twenty-fifth of a -second, the illumination will appear continuous. But it is not really -so. To be so, the flashes should succeed each other at the rate of at -least 100,000, and probably of more than 1,000,000 per second.</p> - -<p>While the lightning flash shows the brilliancy which the electric -illumination can attain, it shows also the intense heat resulting from -the electric discharge. This might, indeed, be inferred simply from the -brilliancy of the light, since we know that this brilliancy can only be -due to the intense heat to which the particles along the track of the -electric flash have been raised. But it is shown in a more convincing -manner to ordinary apprehension by the effects which the lightning -flash produces where—in the common way of speaking—it strikes. The -least fusible substances are melted. Effects are produced also which, -though at first not seemingly attributable to intense heat, yet in -reality can be no otherwise explained. Thus, when the trunk of a tree -is torn into fragments by the lightning stroke, though the tree is -scorched and blackened, a small amount of heat would account for that -particular effect, while the destruction of the tree seems attributable -to mechanical causes. It is, indeed, from effects such as these that -the idea of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> fall of thunderbolts has doubtless had its origin, -the notion being that some material substance has struck the body thus -shattered or destroyed. In reality, however, such destructive effects -are due entirely to the intense heat excited during the passage of -the electricity. Thus, in the case of a tree destroyed by lightning, -the shattering of boughs and trunk results from the sudden conversion -of the moisture of the tree (that is, the moisture present in the -substance of the tree) into steam, a change accompanied of course by -great and sudden expansion. The tree is as certainly destroyed by the -effects of heat as is a boiler which has burst, though in each case the -expansive power of steam directly works the mischief.</p> - -<p>It is the more useful for our present purpose thus to note at the -outset both the illuminating and the heating power of the lightning -flash (or rather of the electric discharge), because, as will presently -be seen, the electric light, while in all cases depending on intensity -of heat, may either be obtained in the form of a series of flashes -succeeding each other so quickly as to be to all intents and purposes -continuous, or from the incandescence of some suitable substance in the -path of the electric current.</p> - -<p>Let us now consider briefly the general nature of electrical phenomena, -or at least of those electrical phenomena which are related to our -present subject.</p> - -<p>Formerly, when light was supposed to be a material emanation, and -heat was regarded as an actual fluid, electricity was in like manner -regarded as some subtle fluid which could be generated or dispersed -in various ways. At present, it is safer to speak of electricity -as a state or condition of matter. If it were not that some very -eminent electricians (and one especially whose eminence as a practical -electrician is very great) are said to believe still that there is such -a thing as an electric fluid, we should have simply asserted that in -the present position of scientific research, with the known velocity -at which the so-called electric current flows, and the known relations -between<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> electricity, heat, and light, the theory of an electric fluid -is altogether untenable. It will suffice, however, under the actual -circumstances, to speak simply of electrical properties, without -expressing any definite opinion respecting their interpretation.</p> - -<p>A certain property, called electricity, is excited in any substance by -any cause affecting the condition of the substance, whether that cause -be mechanical, chemical, thermal, or otherwise. No change can take -place in the physical condition of any body without the generation of -a greater or less amount of electricity, although in far the greater -number of cases there may be no obvious evidence of the fact, while in -many cases no evidence may be obtainable even by the use of the most -delicate scientific tests.</p> - -<p>I have spoken here of the generation of a greater or less amount of -electricity, but in reality it would be more correct to speak simply -of a change in the electrical condition of the substance. Electricians -speak of positive and negative electricity as though there actually -were two distinct forms of this peculiar property of matter. But it -may be questioned whether it would not be more correct to speak of -electricity as we do of heat. We might speak of cold as negative heat -precisely as electricians give the name of negative electricity to a -relative deficiency of what they call positive electricity; but in -the case of heat and cold it is found more convenient, and is more -correct, to speak of different degrees of one and the same quality. The -difficulty in the case of electricity is that at present science has -no means of deciding whether positive or negative electricity has in -reality the better claim to be regarded as absolute electricity. Making -comparison between electrical and thermal relations, the process which -we call the generation of positive electricity may in reality involve -the dispersion of absolute electricity, and so correspond to cooling, -not to heating. In this case the generation of what we call negative -electricity would in reality be the positive process. However, it is -not necessary to discuss this point, nor can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> any error arise from the -use of the ordinary method of expression, so long as we carefully hold -in remembrance that it is only employed for convenience, and must not -be regarded as scientifically precise.</p> - -<p>Electricity may be excited, as I have said, in many ways. With the -ordinary electrical machine it is excited by the friction of a glass -disc or cylinder against suitable rubbers of leather and silk. The -galvanic battery developes electricity by the chemical action of acid -solutions on metal plates. We may speak of the electricity generated -by a machine as frictional electricity, and of that generated by -a galvanic battery as voltaic electricity; in reality, however, -these are not different kinds of electricity, but one and the same -property developed in different ways. The same also is the case with -magnetic electricity, of which I shall presently have much to say: -it is electricity produced by means of magnets, but is in no respect -different from frictional or voltaic electricity. Of course, however, -it will be understood that for special purposes one method of producing -electricity may be more advantageously used than another. Just as heat -produced by burning coal is more convenient for a number of purposes -than heat produced by burning wood, though there is no scientific -distinction between coal-produced heat and wood-produced heat, so for -some purposes voltaic electricity is more convenient than frictional -electricity, though there is no real distinction between them.</p> - -<p>Every one knows that when by means of an ordinary electrical machine -electricity has been generated in sufficient quantity and under -suitable conditions to prevent its dispersion, a spark of intense -brilliancy and greater or less length, according to the amount of -electricity thus collected, can be obtained when some body, not -similarly electrified, is brought near to what is called the conductor -of the machine. The old-fashioned explanation, still repeated in many -of our books, ran somewhat as follows:—'The positive electricity of -the conductor decomposes the neutral<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> or mixed fluid of the body, -attracting the negative fluid and repelling the positive. When the -tension of the opposite electricities is great enough to overcome the -resistance of the air, they re-combine, the spark resulting from the -heat generated in the process of their combination.' This explanation -is all very well; but it assumes much that is in reality by no means -certain, or even likely. All we <i>know</i> is, that whereas before the -spark is seen the electrical conditions of the conductor and the object -presented to it were different, they are no longer different after the -flashing forth of the spark. It is as though a certain line (straight, -crooked, or branched) in the air had formed a channel of communication -by which electricity had passed, either from the conductor to the -object or from the object to the conductor,—or <i>possibly</i> in both -directions, two different kinds of electricity existing (before -the flash) in the conductor and the object, as the old-fashioned -explanation assumes.<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> Again, we know that the passage of electricity -along the air-track supposing there really is such a passage, but in -any case the observed change in the relative electrical conditions of -the conductor and the object, is accompanied by the generation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> of an -intense heat along the aërial track where the spark is seen.</p> - -<p>In the case of electricity generated by means of a galvanic battery, -we do not note the same phenomena unless the battery is a strong one. -We have in such a battery a steady source of electricity, but unless -the battery is powerful, the electricity is of low intensity, and -not competent to produce the most striking phenomena of frictional -electricity. For instance, voltaic electricity, as used in telegraphic -communication, is far weaker than that obtained from even a small -electrical machine. What is called the positive extremity of the -battery neither gives a spark, nor attracts light bodies. The same -is true of the other, or negative extremity. The difference of the -condition of these extremities can only be ascertained by delicate -tests—the deflections of the needle, in fact, by which telegraphic -communications are made, may in reality be regarded as the indications -of a very delicate electro-cope.</p> - -<p>But when the strength of a galvanic battery is sufficiently great, -or, in other words, when the total amount of chemical action brought -into play to generate electricity is sufficient, we obtain voltaic -electricity not only surpassing in intensity what can be obtained from -electrical machines, but capable of producing spark after spark in a -succession so exceedingly rapid that the light is to all intents and -purposes continuous.</p> - -<p>Without considering the details of the construction of a galvanic -battery, which would occupy more space than can here be spared, and -even with fullest explanation would scarcely be intelligible (except to -those already familiar with the subject), unless illustrations unsuited -to these pages were employed, let us consider what we have in the case -of every powerful galvanic battery, on whatever system arranged. We -have a series of simple batteries, each consisting of two plates of -different metal placed in dilute acid. Whereas, in the case of a simple -battery, however, the two different metals are connected together by -wires to let the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> electric current pass (the current ceasing to pass -when the wires are disconnected), in a compound battery, in which (let -us say) the metals are zinc and copper, the zinc of one battery is -connected with the copper of the next, the zinc of this with the copper -of another, and so on, the wire <i>to</i> the copper of the first battery -and the wire <i>from</i> the zinc of the last battery being free, and -forming what are called the poles of the compound battery—the former -the positive pole, the later the negative pole.<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> When these free -wires are connected, the current of electricity passes, when they are -disconnected the current ceases to pass, unless the break between them -is such only that the electricity can, as it were, force its way across -the gap. When the wires are connected, so that the current flows, it -is as though there were a channel for some fluid which flowed readily -and easily along the channel. When the circuit is absolutely broken, -it is as though such a channel were dammed completely across. If, -however, while the poles are not connected by copper wires or by other -freely conducting substances, yet the gap is such as the electricity -can pass over, the case may be compared to the partial interruption -of a channel at some spot where, though the fluid which passes freely -along the channel is not able to move so freely; it can yet force its -way along, with much disturbance and resistance. Just as at such a part -of the course of a liquid stream—say, a river—we find, instead of -the quiet flow observed elsewhere, a great noise and tumult, so, where -the current of electricity is not able to pass readily we perceive -evidence of resistance in the generation of much heat and light (if the -resistance is great enough).</p> - -<p>It will be observed that I have spoken in the preceding paragraph -of the passage of a current along the wire connecting the two poles -of a powerful electric battery, or along<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> any substance connecting -those poles which possesses the property of being what is called a -good conductor of electricity. But the reader is not to assume that -there is such a current, or that it is known to flow either from the -positive to the negative pole, or from negative to positive pole; or, -again, that, as some have suggested, there are two currents which flow -simultaneously in opposite directions. We speak conventionally of the -current, and for convenience we speak as though some fluid really -made its way (when the circuit is complete) from the positive to the -negative pole of the compound battery. But the existence of such a -current, or of any current at all, is purely hypothetical. I should -be disposed, for my own part, to believe that the motion is of the -nature of wave-motion, with no actual transference of matter, at least -when the circuit is complete. According to this view, where resistance -takes place we might conceive that the waves are converted into -rollers or breakers, according to the nature of the resistance—actual -transference of matter taking place through the action of these changed -waves, just as waves which have traversed the free surface of ocean -without carrying onward whatever matter may be floating on the surface, -cast such matter ashore when, by the resistance of the shoaling bottom -or of rocks, they become converted either into rollers or into breakers.</p> - -<p>I may also notice, with regard to good conductors and bad conductors -of electricity, that they may be compared to substances respectively -transparent and opaque for light-waves, or again, to substances which -allow heat to pass freely or the reverse. Just as light-waves fail to -illuminate a transparent body, and heat-waves fail to warm a body which -allows them free passage, so electricity-waves (if electricity really -is undulatory, as I imagine) fail to affect any substance along which -they travel freely. But as light-waves illuminate an opaque substance, -and heat-waves raise the temperature of a substance which impedes -their progress, so waves of electricity, when their course is impeded, -produce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> effects which are indicated to us by the resulting heat and -light.</p> - -<p>A powerful galvanic battery is capable of producing light of intense -brilliancy. For this purpose, instead of taking sparks between the -two metallic poles, each of these is connected with a piece of carbon -(which is nearly as good a conductor as the metal), and the sparks are -taken between these two pieces of carbon, usually set so that the one -connected with the negative pole is virtually above the one connected -with the positive pole, and at a distance of a tenth of an inch from -each other or more, according to the strength of the battery. Across -this gap between the carbons an arc of light is seen, which in reality -results from a series of electric sparks following each other in rapid -succession. This arc, called the voltaic arc, is brilliant, but it is -not from this arc that the chief part of the light comes. The ends -of the carbon become intensely bright, being raised to a white heat. -Both the positive and negative carbons are fiercely heated, but the -positive is heated most. As (ordinarily) both carbons are thus heated -in the open air, combustion necessarily takes place, though it is to be -noticed that the lustre of the carbons is not due to combustion, and -would remain undiminished if combustion were prevented. The carbons -are thus gradually consumed, the positive nearly twice as fast as -the negative. If they are left untouched, this process of combustion -soon increases the distance between them till it exceeds that which -the electricity can pass over. Then the light disappears, the current -ceasing to flow. But by bringing the carbon points near to each other -(they must, indeed, be made to touch for an instant), the current is -made to flow again, and the light is restored.</p> - -<p>The following remarks by M.H. Fontaine (translated by Dr. Higgs) may -help to explain the nature of the voltaic arc:—'In truth, the voltaic -arc is a portion of the electric circuit possessing the properties of -all other parts of the same circuit. The molecules swept away from -point to point (that is, from one carbon end to the other) 'constitute<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> -between these points a mobile chain, more or less conductive, and -more or less heated, according to the intensity of the current and -the nature and separation of the electrodes' (that is, the quality -and distance apart of the carbon or other substances between which -the arc is formed). 'These things happen exactly as if the electrodes -were united by a metallic wire or carbon rod of small section' (so as -to make the resistance to the current great), 'which is but saying -that the light produced by the voltaic arc and that obtained by -incandescence arise from the same cause—that is, the heating of a -resisting substance interposed in the circuit.'</p> - -<p>The intensity of the light from the voltaic arc and the carbon points -varies with circumstances, but depends chiefly on the amount of -electricity generated by the battery. A fair idea of its brilliancy, -as compared with all other lights, will be gained from the following -statements:—If we represent the brightness of the sun at noon on a -clear day as 1,000, the brightness of lime glowing under the intense -heat of the oxy-hydrogen flame is about 7; that of the electric -light obtained with a battery of 46 elements (Bunsen's), 235. With a -battery of 80 elements the brightness is only 238. (These results were -obtained in experiments by Fizeau and Foucault.) The intensity does not -therefore increase much with the number of the component elements after -a certain number is passed. But it increases greatly with the surface, -for the experimenters found that with a battery of 46 elements, each -composed of 3, with their zinc and copper respectively united to form -one element of triple surface, the brightness became 385, or more than -one-third of the midday brightness of the sun (that is, the apparent -intrinsic lustre of his disc's surface), and 55 times the brightness of -the oxy-hydrogen lime-light.</p> - -<p>Another way of obtaining an intense heat and light from the electric -current generated by a strong battery is to introduce into the -electric circuit a substance of small conducting power, and capable -of sustaining an intense heat without disintegration, combustion, or -melting. Platinum<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> has been used for this purpose. If the conductive -power of copper be represented by 100, that of platinum will be -represented by 18 only. Thus the resistance experienced by a current in -passing through platinum is relatively so great, that if the current -is strong the platinum becomes intensely heated, and shines with a -brilliant light. A difficulty arises in using this light practically, -from the circumstance that when the strength of the current reaches a -certain point, the platinum melts, and the circuit being thus broken, -the light immediately goes out.</p> - -<p>The use of galvanic batteries to generate an electric current strong -enough for the production of a brilliant light, is open to several -objections, especially on the score of expense. It may, indeed, be -safely said that if no other way of obtaining currents of sufficient -intensity had ever been devised, the electric light would scarcely -have been thought of for purposes of general illumination, however -useful in special cases. (In the electric lighting of the New Opera -House at Paris, batteries are used.) The discovery by Orsted that an -electric current can make iron magnetic, and the series of discoveries -by Faraday, in which the relation between magnetism and electricity -was explained, made electric lighting practically possible. One of -these shows that if a properly insulated wire coil is rapidly rotated -in front of a fixed permanent magnet (or of a set of such magnets), -currents will be induced in the coil, which may be made to produce -either alternating currents or currents in one direction only, in wire -conductors. An instrument for generating electric currents in this way, -by rapidly rotating a coil in front of a series of powerful permanent -magnets fixed symmetrically around it, is called a magneto-electric -machine. Another method, now generally preferred, depends on the -rotation of a coil in front of an electro-magnet; that is, of a bar -of soft iron (bent in horseshoe form), which can be rendered magnetic -by the passage of an electric current through a coil surrounding it. -The rapid rotation of the coil in front of the soft iron generates -a weak current, because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> iron always has some traces of magnetism -in it, especially if it has once been magnetised. This weak current -being caused to traverse the coil surrounding the soft iron increases -its magnetism, so that somewhat stronger currents are produced in -the revolving coil. These carried round the soft iron still further -increase its magnetism, and so still further strengthen the current. -In this way coil and magnet act and react on each other, until from -the small effects due to the initial slight magnetism of the iron, -both coil and the magnet become, so to speak, saturated. Machines -constructed on this principle are called dynamo-electric machines, -because the generation of electricity depends on the dynamical force -employed in rapidly rotating the coils.</p> - -<p>We need not consider here the various forms which magneto-electric -and dynamo-electric machines have received. It is sufficient that -the reader should recognise how we obtain an electric current of -great intensity in one case from mechanical action and permanent -magnetism,<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> and in the other from mechanical action and the mere -residue of magnetism always present in iron.</p> - -<p>In the cases here considered it is in reality the sudden presentation -of the coil (twice at each rotation) before the positive and negative -poles of the magnet, which induces a momentary but intense current -of electricity. The rotation being exceedingly rapid, these currents -succeed each other with sufficient rapidity to be appreciably -continuous. A similar principle is involved in the use of what is -called the inductive coil, except that in this case the sudden -beginning and ceasing of a current in one coil (and not magnetic -action) induces a momentary but strong current: matters are so arranged -that the current induced by the starting of the inducing current, -immediately causes this to cease; while the current induced by the -cessation of the inducing current immediately causes this current -to begin again: so that by a self-acting process we have a constant -series of in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>tense induced currents, succeeding each other with great -rapidity, so as to be practically continuous, as with those produced by -magneto-electric and dynamo-electric machines.</p> - -<p>All that I have said about the voltaic arc, the incandescence -resulting from resistance to the current's flow, and so forth, in -relation to electricity generated by galvanic batteries, applies to -electricity generated by induction coils, or by magneto-electric and -by dynamo-electric machines. Only it is to be noticed that in some of -these machines the currents alternate in direction with each revolution -of the swiftly turning coil, in others the currents are always in the -same direction, and in yet others the currents may be made to alternate -or not, as may be most convenient.</p> - -<p>We have now to consider how light suitable for purposes of illumination -may be obtained from the electric current. Hitherto we have considered -only light such as might be used for special purposes, where a bright -and very intense light was required, where expense and complexity of -construction might not be open to special objections, and where in -general the absolute steadiness of the light was not an essential -point. But those who have seen the electric light used even by the -most experienced manipulators for the illustration of lectures will -know that the light as so obtained, though of intense brilliancy, is -altogether unsuited for purposes of ordinary illumination.</p> - -<p>If we consider a few of the methods which have been devised for -overcoming the difficulties inherent in the problem of electric -lighting, the reader will recognise at once the nature of these -difficulties, and the probability of their being effectually overcome -in the future, for though much has been done, much yet remains to be -done in mastering them.</p> - -<p>Let us consider first the Jablochkoff candle, the invention of which -brought about, in July 1877, the first great fall in the value of gas -property.</p> - -<p>The Jablochkoff candle consists of two carbons placed side by side -(instead of one above the other in a vertical line). Thus placed, -with a slight interval between them, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> carbon rods would allow the -passage of the electric current at the place of nearest approach, and -therefore of least resistance to its passage. A variable and imperfect -illumination would result. M. Jablochkoff, however, interposes between -the separate carbon rods a slip of plaster of Paris, which is a -non-conducting material. The upper points of the carbon rods are thus -the only parts at which the current can cross. They are connected by -a little bridge of carbon, which is necessary for the starting of the -light—just as in the case of the ordinary electric light, the two -carbons must, in order to start the light, be brought into contact. -When the current flows, the small bridge of carbon connecting the two -points is presently consumed, but the arc between the points is still -maintained: for the plaster becomes vitrified by the intense heat of -the two carbon points on each side, and melts down as the carbons are -consumed. If the light is in any way put out, however, a small piece of -carbon must be set again, to form a bridge between the carbon points. -Throughout the burning of the Jablochkoff candle the fused portion -of the insulating layer forms a conducting bridge between the carbon -points; and hence there is a considerable loss of electric force -(probably about thirty per cent.), which in the ordinary arrangement -would increase the intensity of the light. The great advantage of the -candle consists in the circumstance that throughout its consumption -the carbon ends are at a constant distance from each other without any -mechanical or other arrangement being necessary to maintain them in due -position.</p> - -<p>One point should be noticed here. In the ordinary arrangement of carbon -points, the positive carbon, as we have already said, is much more -intensely heated, and consumes twice as fast as the negative carbon. -Now, if one carbon of the Jablochkoff candle were connected with the -positive, and the other with the negative pole of the battery or of a -machine, the former side would consume twice as fast as the latter, and -the two points would no longer remain at the same horizontal level, -which is essential to the proper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> burning of the Jablochkoff candle. -By using a machine which produces alternating currents, M. Jablochkoff -obviates this difficulty, the carbons being alternately positive and -negative (in extremely rapid succession), and therefore consuming at -the same rate.</p> - -<p>The Jablochkoff candle lasts only about an hour and a half. But four, -six, or more candles may be used in the same globe or lantern, and -automatic arrangements adopted to cause a fresh candle to be ignited at -the moment when its predecessor is burnt out.</p> - -<p>In Paris and elsewhere (as in Holborn, for instance), each Jablochkoff -lamp is enclosed in an opal glass globe. Mr. Hepworth remarks on this, -that in his opinion the use of the opal globe is a mistake, as it -shuts off quite 50 per cent. of the light without any corresponding -advantage, except the correction of the glare. 'This wasteful -disadvantage will no doubt be remedied in the future,' he says, by -the use of some less dense medium. 'Mr. Shoolbred states that from a -series of careful photometric experiments carried out by the municipal -authorities with the Jablochkoff lights, each naked light is found to -possess a maximum intensity of 300 candles. With the opal globe this -was reduced to 180 candles, showing a loss of 40 per cent., while -during the darker periods through which the light passed the light -was as low as 90 candles. It may be mentioned here that Mr. Van der -Weyde, who has long used the electric light for photographic purposes, -has given much attention to the important problem of rendering the -electric light available as an illuminator without wasting it, and yet -without throwing the rays directly upon the object to be illuminated. -The rays are intercepted by an opal disc about four inches in diameter, -and the whole body of the rays is gathered up by a concave reflector -(lined with a white material), and thrown out in a flood of pure white -light, in which the most delicate shades of tint are discernible. He -can use any form of electric candle in this way. Only it should be -noticed, before the employment of his method is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> advocated for street -illumination, that there is a difference between the problems which -the photographer and the street-lighter have to solve. The Jablochkoff -candle, for instance, must be screened on all sides, and even above, -when used to illuminate the streets. If its direct light is allowed -to escape in any direction, there will be a mischievous and unsightly -beam, and from every point along the path of the beam, the intensely -bright light of the candle will be directly visible. Again: it is -essential that whatever substance is used to screen the light should -be dense enough to cause the whole globe to seem uniformly bright or -nearly so. The only modification which seems available (when these -essential points have been secured) is that the tint of the globe -should be such as to correct any colour which the light may be found to -have in injurious excess. We may, however, remark that the objection -which has been often raised against the colour of the electric light -can hardly be just—the injury to the eyes in certain cases arising -probably from the strong contrast between the light and the background -on which it is projected. For, as to colour, the electric light -derived either from the glowing carbon or from incandescent metal is -appreciably the same as sunlight.</p> - - - -<p>The Rapieff burner, employed in the 'Times' office, consists of four -carbon pencils, arranged thus <img src="images/illus06.jpg" alt="symbol" /> -(except that the two v's are not in the same plane, but in planes at -right angles to each other). The spark crosses the space between the -points of the v's, and arrangements are made for keeping the two points -at the right distance from each other, and also for keeping the ends -of the two pencils which form each point in their proper position. If -the current is from any cause interrupted, an automatic arrangement is -adopted to allow the current to pass to the other lamps in the same -circuit. There are six lamps in circuit at the 'Times' office; and M. -Rapieff has exhibited as many as ten. The advantages claimed for this -light are the following:—'First, its production by any description -of dynamo-electric machine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> with either alternating or continuous -currents; secondly, great diversibility and complete independence -of the several lights, and long duration without change of carbons; -and lastly, the extreme facility with which any ordinary workman or -servant can renew the carbons when necessary, without extinguishing -the lights.' The last-named advantage results, it need hardly perhaps -be said, from the use of two carbons to form each point. One can be -removed, the other remaining to keep the voltaic arc intact until a -new carbon has been substituted for its fellow; then it in turn can be -replaced by a new carbon, the new carbon already inserted keeping the -voltaic arc intact.</p> - -<p>The six lamps at the 'Times' office thoroughly illuminate the room, and -give light for working the eight Walter presses used in printing the -paper. The light has been thus used since the middle of last October, -and it is said that other rooms in the building are shortly to be -illuminated in the same manner. 'Each lamp is enclosed in an opal globe -of about four inches in diameter, and so little heat is given off, that -the hand can be placed on the globe without inconvenience, even after -the light has been burning for some time.'</p> - -<p>In the Wallace lamp there are two horizontal plates of carbon, about -nine inches in diameter, instead of mere carbon points. When the -current is passing, these carbon plates are separated by a suitable -small distance which remains unchanged. The electric arc, being started -at the point along the edge of the carbons where there is least -resistance to the passage of the current, gradually passes along the -edge of the carbons as combustion goes on, changing the position of -the place of nearest approach and consequently of least resistance. -The light will thus burn for many hours (even for a hundred with large -carbon plates), and any number of lights up to ten can be worked from -the machine. The objection to the Wallace lamp is, that the light does -not remain at one point, but travels along the whole extent of the -carbons. It will not be easy to design<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> a glass shade which will be -suitable for a light thus changing in position.</p> - -<p>The Werdermann regulator is on an entirely new plan; but it has not yet -been submitted to the test of practical working outside the laboratory. -The positive carbon, which is lowest, ends in a sharp point, which -strangely enough retains its figure, while the carbon burns away at -the rate of about two inches per hour. The negative carbon is a block -having its under side, against which the positive carbon presses, -slightly convex. The positive carbon is pressed steadily against the -negative by the action of a weight. The increased resistance to the -passage of the current, at the sharp point of the positive carbon, -generates sufficient heat to produce a powerful light. The light -resembles a steadily radiant star, but 'with all its softness and -purity of tint, it is so intense, that adjacent gas-flames are thrown -on the wall as transparent shadows.' The light will last for fifteen -hours without attention, the positive carbon rod being used in lengths -of three feet. The carbon block hardly undergoes any change. When the -lamp has been burning a long time, a slight depression can be seen -at the place where the positive carbon touches it, but by shifting -the carbon in its holder this is easily remedied. Mr. Werdermann -lately exhibited a row of ten small lamps burning side by side at the -same time. 'The two wires from the machine,' says Mr. Hepworth, were -carried one on either side of this row of lamps, branch wires being led -from them for the service of each lamp. Mr. Werdermann says that his -perfected lamps will be furnished with keys, by which the current can -be turned on or off, as in the case of gas. We may say in fact, that -in the nature of its connections and various arrangements, it ("the -Werdermann lamp") most nearly comes up in convenience to the use of -gas.'</p> - -<p>We do not yet know certainly what arrangement Mr. Edison employs to -obtain the light of which so much has been heard. It is asserted that -his light is obtained from the incandescence of an alloy of iridium and -platinum,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> which will bear without fusion a heat<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> of 5,000 degrees -Fahrenheit. It would be unsafe, however, to assume that this account is -trustworthy, or to infer (as we might in the case of almost any other -inventor), that such being the nature of his plan, it could lead to no -result of practical value. As has been well remarked by a contemporary -writer, whatever Edison's invention may be, 'it is certain to be -something to command respect, even if it does not quite come up to the -glowing accounts which have reached us in advance.'</p> - -<p>The following passage from one of these accounts, which appeared in the -'New York Herald,' will be read with interest, and may be accepted as -trustworthy so far as it goes. 'The writer last night saw the invention -in operation in Mr. Edison's laboratory. The inventor was deep in -experimental researches. What he called the apparatus consisted of a -small metal stand placed on the table. Surrounding the light was a -small glass globe. Near by was a gas jet burning low. The Professor -looked up from his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> work, to greet the reporter, and in reply to a -request to view the invention, waved his hand towards the light, with -the exclamation, "There she is!" The illumination was such as would -come from a brilliant gas jet surrounded with ground glass, only that -the light was clearer and more brilliant. "Now I extinguish it and -light the gas, and you can see the difference," said Mr. Edison, and -he touched the spring. Instantly all was darkness. Then he turned on -the gas. The difference was quite perceptible. The light from the gas -appeared in comparison tinted with yellow. In a moment, however, the -eye had become accustomed to it, and the yellowish tint disappeared. -Then the Professor turned on the electric light, giving the writer the -opportunity of seeing both, side by side. The electric light seemed -much softer; a continuous view of it for three minutes did not pain -the eye; whereas looking at the gas for the same length of time caused -some little pain and confusion of sight. One of the noticeable features -of the light, when fully turned on, was that all the colours could -be distinguished as readily as by sunlight. "When do you expect to -have the invention completed, Mr. Edison?" asked the reporter. "The -substance of it is all right now," he answered, putting the apparatus -away and turning on the gas. "But there are the usual little details -that must be attended to before it goes to the people. For instance, we -have got to devise some arrangement for registering a sort of meter, -and again, there are several different forms that we are experimenting -on now, in order to select the best." "Are the lights to be all of the -same degree of brilliancy?" asked the reporter. "All the same!" "Have -you come across any serious difficulties in it as yet?" "Well, no," -replied the inventor, "and that's what worries me, for in the telephone -I found about a thousand;<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> and so in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> quadruplex. I worked on -both over two years before I overcame them."'</p> - -<p>Other methods, as the Sawyer-Man system, and the Brush system, need not -at present detain us, as little is certainly known respecting them. In -the former it is said that the light is obtained from an incandescent -carbon pencil, within a space containing nitrogen and no oxygen, so -that there is no combustion. In the latter the carbon points are placed -as in the ordinary electric lamp, but are so suspended in the clasp of -a regulator, that they burn 14 inches of carbon without adjustment, the -carbons lasting eight hours, and producing a flood of intense white -light, estimated as equivalent to 3,000 candles.</p> - -<p>I have little space to consider the cost of electric lighting, even -if the question were one which could be suitably dealt with in these -pages. Opinions are very much divided as to the relative cost of -lighting by gas and by electricity; but the balance of opinion seem to -be in favour of the belief that in America and France certainly, and -probably in this country, where gas is cheap, electric lighting will -on the whole be as cheap as lighting by gas. It should be noticed, -in making a comparison between this country and others in which coal -is dearer, that the cheapness of coal here, though favourable in the -main to gas illumination, is also favourable, though in less degree -(relatively) to electric lighting. Machines for generating electricity -can be worked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> more cheaply here than in America. Nay, it has even -been found advantageous in some cases to use a gas engine to generate -electricity. Thus Mr. Van der Weyde used an Otto gas engine driven -at the cost of 6<i>d.</i> an hour for gas, to produce the light which he -exhibited publicly on the night of November 9. So that the cheapness of -gas may make the electric light cheaper. Then it is to be remembered -that important though the question of cost is, it is far from being -all-important. The advantages of electric lighting for many purposes, -as in public libraries, in cases where many persons work together -under conditions rendering the vitiation of the air by gas lighting -exceedingly mischievous, and in cases where the recognition of delicate -differences of tint or texture is essential, must far more than -compensate for some slight difference in cost. The possibility (shown -by actual experience to be real) of employing natural sources of power -to drive machines for generating electricity, is another interesting -element of the subject, but could not be properly dealt with save in -greater space than this here available.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="ph3">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> It is supposed by many, that when the spark is long -enough we can note the direction in which it travels; and observations -of the motion of lightning from the earth to the cloud have been -collected, as showing that the usually observed direction of the flash -is sometimes reversed. In reality, no one has ever seen a lightning -flash travel either one way or the other. If the attention is fixed -on the storm cloud, as usual when a lightning storm is watched, every -flash appears to pass from the cloud to the earth. If, on the contrary, -at the moment when the attention is fixed on some terrestrial object -the lightning flashes near that particular object, the flash will seem -to pass from the object to the cloud. In either case the motion is -apparent only. If there is motion at all, the passage of the electric -spark occupies less than the 100,000th part of a second, and of course -it is utterly impossible that any eye could tell at which end of its -track the flash first appeared. In every case the flash seems to travel -from the end to which attention was more nearly directed. The apparent -motion corresponds to the chance direction of the eye.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> The extremity of the wire connected with the metal least -affected by the acid solution is called the positive pole, that of the -wire connected with the metal most affected by the solution is called -the negative pole.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> So called, though in reality the best magnets gradually -lose force.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> My occasional use of the word 'heat' where in scientific -writing 'temperature' would be the word used, has exposed me to -peevish, not to say petulant comments from Professor P.G. Tait, who -has denounced half the mathematical world for using the word 'force,' -in the sense in which Newton used it, and has spoken of an eminent -physicist as one deserving universal execration and opprobrium for -not explaining, when speaking of work done against gravity, that -terrestrial gravity was meant, and not gravity on the sun, or Jupiter, -or Mars, or anywhere in the heavens above or in the earth beneath, -but only at the earth's surface. Where there is no risk of confusion, -the word 'heat' may be used either to signify temperature, as when -in ordinary speech and writing we talk of blood-heat, fever-heat, -summer-heat, and so forth. Science, indeed, very properly forbids -the use of the word in any sense save one. But outside the pages of -scientific treatises, there is no inaccuracy in using a word in a sense -popularly attributed to it, when no mistake can possibly arise. No one -can suppose, when I speak of a heat of so many degrees Fahrenheit or -Centigrade, that I mean anything but such and such a degree of heat, -any more than if I spoke of the intense heat of that <i>savant entêté</i>, -Professor P.G. Tait, any one would imagine that I referred to his -calorific condition.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> The comments made by one of Mr. Edison's assistants -on this point are interesting and instructive. 'Mr. Batchelor, the -Professor's assistant, who here joined in the conversation,' proceeds -the report of the <i>Herald</i>, 'said, "Many a time Mr. Edison sat down -almost on the point of giving up the telephone as a lost job; but at -the last moment, he would see light." "Of all things that we have -discovered, this is about the simplest," continued Mr. Edison, "and the -public will say so when it is explained. We have got it pretty well -advanced now, but there are some few improvements I have in my mind. -You see, it has got to be so fixed that it cannot get out of order. -Suppose when one light only is employed it got out of order once a -year, where two were used it would get out of order twice a year, and -where a thousand were used you can see there would be much trouble in -looking after them. Therefore, when the light leaves the laboratory, I -want it to be in such a shape that it cannot get out of order at all, -except of course by some accident."'</p></div></div> - -<p class="ph5" style="margin-top: 5em;"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">PRINTED BY</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">SPOTTISWOODE AND CO. LTD., NEW-STREET SQUARE</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">LONDON</span><br /> -</p> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="center">Transcribers Note:<br /> -Original spelling has been retained.</p></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Rough Ways Made Smooth, by Richard A. 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