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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..1273f79 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55546 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55546) diff --git a/old/55546-0.txt b/old/55546-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 271da16..0000000 --- a/old/55546-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,17335 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Progress of the Century, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Progress of the Century - -Author: Various - -Release Date: September 14, 2017 [EBook #55546] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROGRESS OF THE CENTURY *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - - -In the Plain Text version of this eBook, molecular structures in the -Chemistry chapter will display correctly only when a fixed-width font -is used. Other special situations in that chapter are discussed in the -Transcriber’s Notes at the end of this eBook. - - - - - THE PROGRESS - OF THE - CENTURY - - BY ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE; PROF. WILLIAM RAMSAY; PROF. WILLIAM MATTHEW - FLINDERS-PETRIE; SIR JOSEPH NORMAN LOCKYER; EDWARD CAIRD; WILLIAM - OSLER; W. W. KEEN; PROF. ELIHU THOMSON; PRESIDENT THOMAS CORWIN - MENDENHALL; SIR CHARLES WENTWORTH DILKE; CAPTAIN ALFRED T. MAHAN; - ANDREW LANG; THOMAS C. CLARKE; CARDINAL JAMES GIBBONS; REV. ALEXANDER - V. G. ALLEN; PROF. RICHARD J. H. GOTTHEIL; PROF. GOLDWIN SMITH - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK AND LONDON - HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - 1901 - - - - - Copyright, 1901, by HARPER & BROTHERS. - - Copyright, 1901, by THE SUN PRINTING AND PUBLISHING ASSOCIATION. - - _All rights reserved._ - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - EVOLUTION. BY ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE, LL.D., D.C.L., F.R.S 3 - - CHEMISTRY. BY PROF. WILLIAM RAMSAY, PH.D., F.R.S., F.C.S., - OFFICER OF THE LEGION OF HONOR 33 - - ARCHÆOLOGY. BY PROF. WILLIAM MATTHEW FLINDERS-PETRIE, D.C.L., - LL.D., EDWARDS PROFESSOR OF EGYPTOLOGY, UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, - LONDON 73 - - ASTRONOMY. BY SIR JOSEPH NORMAN LOCKYER, C.B., F.R.S., - DIRECTOR OF SOLAR PHYSICS OBSERVATORY, SOUTH KENSINGTON 105 - - PHILOSOPHY. BY EDWARD CAIRD, LL.D., D.C.L., PROFESSOR OF - MORAL PHILOSOPHY, GLASGOW 145 - - MEDICINE. BY WILLIAM OSLER, LL.D., PROFESSOR OF MEDICINE AND - PHYSICIAN TO HOSPITAL, JOHNS HOPKINS MEDICAL SCHOOL 173 - - SURGERY. BY W. W. KEEN, M.D., LL.D., F.R.C.S. (HON.), - PROFESSOR OF THE PRINCIPLES OF SURGERY AND OF CLINICAL - SURGERY, JEFFERSON MEDICAL COLLEGE, PHILADELPHIA 217 - - ELECTRICITY. BY PROF. ELIHU THOMSON, A.M., PH.D., CHEVALIER - AND OFFICER OF THE LEGION OF HONOR 265 - - PHYSICS. BY PRESIDENT THOMAS CORWIN MENDENHALL, PH.D., D.SC., - LL.D., MEMBER NATIONAL ACADEMY OF SCIENCE 303 - - WAR. BY THE RIGHT HON. SIR CHARLES WENTWORTH DILKE, LL.M. 333 - - NAVAL SHIPS. BY CAPTAIN ALFRED T. MAHAN, LATE U.S.N., D.C.L., - LL.D. 355 - - LITERATURE. BY ANDREW LANG, HON. FELLOW MERTON COLLEGE, - OXFORD 389 - - ENGINEERING. BY THOMAS C. CLARKE. PAST PRESIDENT OF THE - AMERICAN SOCIETY OF CIVIL ENGINEERS 421 - - RELIGION: - - CATHOLICISM. BY CARDINAL JAMES GIBBONS 455 - - PROTESTANTISM. BY REV. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN, PROFESSOR OF - CHURCH HISTORY IN THE EPISCOPAL THEOLOGICAL SCHOOL AT - CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 477 - - THE JEWS AND JUDAISM. BY PROFESSOR RICHARD J. H. GOTTHEIL 498 - - FREE-THOUGHT. BY PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH 539 - - - - -EVOLUTION - - -Among the great and fertile scientific conceptions which have either -originated or become firmly established during the nineteenth century, -the theory of evolution, if not the greatest of them all, will -certainly take its place in the front rank. As a partial explanation -(for no complete explanation is possible to finite intelligence) of the -phenomena of nature, it illuminates every department of science, from -the study of the most remote cosmic phenomena accessible to us to that -of the minutest organisms revealed by the most powerful microscopes; -while upon the great problem of the mode of origin of the various -forms of life—long considered insoluble—it throws so clear a light -that to many biologists it seems to afford as complete a solution, in -principle, as we can expect to reach. - - -THE NATURE AND LIMITS OF EVOLUTION - -So many of the objections which are still made to the theory of -evolution, and especially to that branch of it which deals with living -organisms, rest upon a misconception of what it professes to explain, -and even of what any theory can possibly explain, that a few words on -its nature and limits seem to be necessary. - -Evolution, as a general principle, implies that all things in the -universe, as we see them, have arisen from other things which -preceded them by a process of modification, under the action of those -all-pervading but mysterious agencies known to us as “natural forces,” -or, more generally, “the laws of nature.” More particularly the term -evolution implies that the process is an “unrolling,” or “unfolding,” -derived probably from the way in which leaves and flowers are usually -rolled up or crumpled up in the bud and grow into their perfect form -by unrolling or unfolding. Insects in the pupa and vertebrates in the -embryo exhibit a somewhat similar condition of folding, and the word -is therefore very applicable to an extensive range of phenomena; but -it must not be taken as universally applicable, since in the material -world there are other modes of orderly change under natural laws to -which the terms development or evolution are equally applicable. The -“continuity” of physical phenomena, as illustrated by the late Sir -William Grove in 1866, has the same general meaning, but evolution -implies more than mere continuity or succession—something like growth -or definite change from form to form under the action of unchangeable -laws. - -The point to be especially noted here is, that evolution, even if it -is essentially a true and complete theory of the universe, can only -explain the existing conditions of nature by showing that it has been -derived from some pre-existing condition through the action of known -forces and laws. It may also show the high probability of a similar -derivation from a still earlier condition; but the further back we -go the more uncertain must be our conclusions, while we can never -make any real approach to the absolute beginnings of things. Herbert -Spencer, and many other thinkers before him, have shown that if we -try to realize the absolute nature of the simplest phenomena, we are -inevitably landed either in a contradiction or in some unthinkable -proposition. Thus, suppose we ask, Is matter infinitely divisible, or -is it not? If we say it is, we cannot think it out, since all infinity, -however it may be stated in words, is really unthinkable. - -If we say there is a limit—the ultimate atom—then, as all size is -comparative, we can imagine a being to whom this atom seems as large -as an apple or even a house does to us; and we then find it quite -unthinkable that this mass of matter should be in its nature absolutely -indivisible even by an infinite force. It follows that all explanations -of phenomena can only be partial explanations. They can inform us of -the last change or the last series of changes which brought about the -actual conditions now existing, and they can often enable us to predict -future changes to a limited extent; but both the infinite past and the -remote future are alike beyond our powers. Yet the explanations that -the theory of evolution gives us are none the less real and none the -less important, especially when we compare its teachings with the wild -guesses or the total ignorance of the thinkers of earlier ages. - - -THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE IDEA OF EVOLUTION - -If we trace, however briefly, the gradual development of knowledge and -speculation on this subject, we shall perhaps appreciate more fully the -advance we have really made during the present century. - -The first speculations on the nature and source of the phenomena of the -universe, of which we have any knowledge, are those of the early Greek -philosophers, such as Thales, Anaximander, Anaxagoras, and Empedocles; -but as the more important of their teachings are embodied, with some -approach to system and with much acuteness of reasoning, in the great -poem of the Latin author Lucretius, “On the Nature of Things,” it will -be sufficient to give a sketch of his main conclusions, making use -of the excellent prose translation by Mr. H. A. J. Munro, of Trinity -College, Cambridge. - -Lucretius had a very clear idea of the indestructibility of matter. -He argues that things cannot have come out of nothing, and he says: -“A thing never returns to nothing, but all things, after disruption, -go back into the first bodies of matter.” He then argues that, as -the actual processes of growth, decay, and other natural changes are -imperceptible to us, therefore “Nature works by unseen bodies.” He -justly claims great importance for the demonstration of the fact that -in all matter whatever, however solid and hard it may be, there are -vacancies, or, as he expresses it, “Mixed up in all things there is -void or empty space.” He thus anticipated the modern doctrine that the -molecules of matter do not come into actual contact. He then defines -atoms thus: “First bodies are solid and without void”; and as nothing -can be produced from nothing, he concludes that these first bodies -(atoms or molecules) must be everlasting, and that they supply matter -for the reproduction of all things. - -He then goes on to prove that these “first beginnings are of solid -singleness, not formed of parts, but strong in everlasting singleness.” -He further proves that these “first beginnings” (atoms) cannot be -infinitely small, and also that the universe cannot be limited—that -it is infinite. He thus anticipated the main ideas as to atoms and the -universe which have been held by most materialistic thinkers down to -our own times. - -Lucretius was an absolute materialist, for though he did not deny the -existence of the gods he refused them any share in the construction of -the universe, which, he again and again urges, arose by chance, after -infinite time, by the random motions and collisions and entanglements -of the infinity of atoms. He assumes some forces analogous to -gravitation and the molecular motions of gases in the following -passage: “For the first beginnings of things move first of themselves; -next these bodies which form a small aggregate and come nearest, so -to say, to the powers of the first beginnings are impelled and set in -movement by the unseen strokes of these first bodies, and they next in -turn stir up other bodies which are a little larger.” - -He also anticipated Galileo as to the equal speed of all falling bodies -when not checked by the air in the following precise statement: “For -whenever bodies fall through water and thin air they must quicken their -descents in proportion to their weights, because the body of water and -subtle nature of air cannot retard everything to an equal degree; on -the other hand, empty void cannot offer resistance to anything in any -direction at any time, but must continually give way; and for this -reason all things must be moved and borne along with equal velocity, -though of unequal weights, through the unresisting void.” - -This is a wonderfully accurate general statement of the equal rate -of motion of all kinds of matter under the same forces; and when we -consider that there is no indication of any experimental basis for this -conclusion, and that nothing equivalent to our sciences of physics or -chemistry existed, we are amazed at the general correctness of many -of his views, derived solely by a process of reasoning from the most -obvious phenomena of nature. He argues that, given infinite matter and -space and inherent motion, “things must go on and be completed,” and -his general conclusion is thus expressed: “If you will apprehend and -keep in mind these things, nature, free at once and rid of her haughty -lords, is seen to do all things spontaneously of herself without the -meddling of the gods.” - -It is when he attempts to deal with the origin of living organisms -that the absence of all knowledge of chemistry, physiology, and -histology renders his task impossible and leads him into what seem to -us the wildest absurdities. He has an elaborate but very unconvincing -argument that sensation can arise out of atoms which have no sensation; -and, taking the appearance of worms, etc., in the earth and in putrid -matter as a proof that they are still actually produced _de novo_ in -it, he argues that at some remote epoch the now worn-out earth was more -fertile, and produced in like manner all kinds of animals. The first -human infants he supposes to have been formed at some very remote time -in the manner following: “For much heat and moisture would then abound -in the fields; and therefore wherever a suitable spot offered wombs -would grow, attached to the earth by roots; and when the warmth of the -infants, flying the wet and craving the air, had opened these in the -fulness of time, nature would turn to that spot the pores of the earth -and constrain it to yield from its opened veins a liquid most like to -milk. To the children the earth would furnish food, the heat raiment, -the grass a bed rich in abundance of soft down.... Wherefore, again and -again I say, the earth, with good title, has gotten and keeps the name -of mother, since she of herself gave birth to mankind, and at a time -nearly fixed shed forth every beast that ranges wildly over the great -mountains, and at the same time the fowls of the air with all their -varied shapes.” - -The fact that this mode of origin commended itself to one of the -brightest intellects of the first century B. C., enlightened by the -best thought of the Grecian philosophers, may enable us the better to -appreciate the immense advance made by modern evolutionists. - - -THE FIRST REAL STEPS TOWARDS EVOLUTION - -We have now a great blank of fifteen centuries—the dark ages of human -progress—after which the era of observation and experiment began, and -for the first time men really set themselves to study nature, thus -laying the foundation for all the great theoretical advances of our -time. As leading to the next great step in theories of evolution, we -must note the life-long observations by Tycho Brahe of the apparent -motions of the planets; the grand discovery of Kepler that all these -apparently erratic motions were due to their revolution round the sun -in elliptic orbits, with a fixed relation between their distance from -the sun and their periods of revolution; and Newton’s epoch-making -theory of universal gravitation by which all these facts and many -others since discovered were harmonized and explained. - -But all this implied no law of development, and it was long thought -that the solar system was fixed and unchangeable—that some altogether -unknown or miraculous agency must have set it going, and that it had in -itself no principle of change or decay, but might continue as it now is -to all eternity. It was at the very end of the eighteenth century that -Laplace announced his “Nebular Hypothesis,” the first attempt ever made -to explain the origin of the solar system under the influence of the -known laws of motion, gravitation, and heat, acting upon an altogether -different antecedent condition of things—a true process of evolution. - -Laplace supposed that the whole matter of the solar system was once in -a condition of vapor, and that it formed an enormous nebulous mass many -times larger than the then known dimensions of the planetary sphere. -He showed how, under the influence of gravitation, this nebula would -condense, and that such irregularities of motion and density as would -be sure to exist would lead to rotation of the mass. Under the law of -gravitation this would lead to outer rings being left behind by the -contraction of the central mass, which rings would at a later period -become drawn together at some point of initial greater density and -thus form planets. The whole process is admitted to be mathematically -demonstrable, given the initial conditions; but recent extensions -of our knowledge of the interplanetary and interstellar spaces have -shown that the supposed void is really full of invisible solid matter, -ranging from the bulk of the smaller planets down to the finest dust, -and it is very difficult to imagine any possible causes which would -keep all the solid matter of the system in a state of vapor, when -subject, on the confines of the mass, to the cold of interstellar -space. The antecedent condition of our system is now thought to have -been either wholly or partially meteoritic, but in either case we have -a genuine theory of its evolution which has now been so extended as -to include the appearance of comets and meteors, of nebulæ, and star -clusters, of temporary, periodic, and colored stars, and many other -phenomena of the stellar universe. It is no objection to these grand -theories to urge that they do not explain the origin of the matter of -the universe, either what it is or how it came to be where we now find -it. We can only take one step at a time, and even if in these greater -problems any further advance should be as yet denied us, it is still -a great thing to have been able to take even one secure step into the -vast and mysterious depths of the interstellar spaces. - - -EVOLUTION OF THE EARTH’S CRUST - -Although Pythagoras (500 B. C.) believed that sea and land must often -have changed places, and a few other observers at different epochs came -to the same conclusion, yet, till quite recent times, the earth was -generally supposed to have been always very much as it is now; people -spoke of “the eternal hills”; and the great mountain ranges, the mighty -ravines and precipices, as well as the deep seas and oceans, were -believed to be the direct work of the Creator. - -It was only in the latter half of the eighteenth century that a few -observers began to see the importance of studying the nature of the -earth’s crust, so far as it could be reached in ravines, quarries, and -mines; and one of the most earnest of these students, Dr. Hutton, of -Edinburgh, after more than thirty years of travel and study, published -his great work, _The Theory of the Earth_, which must be considered to -be the starting-point of modern geology. He maintained that it was only -by observing causes now in action that we can explain the phenomena -presented by the stratified and igneous rocks; he showed that the -former must have been laid down by water, and that the larger part of -them, containing as they do marine shells and other fossils, must have -been deposited on the sea-bottom. He showed how rain and rivers, frost -and snow, wind and heat disintegrated the hardest rocks and would in -time excavate the deepest valleys; while earthquakes, however small -an elevation any one of them might produce, would in time raise the -sea-bottom sufficiently high to form, when denuded, mountain ranges, -plains, and valleys like those we now see everywhere upon the earth’s -surface. He also showed that the most ancient stratified rocks, those -that lie at the very base of the series, presented every indication of -having been formed in exactly the same way as the most recent ones. -Hence he stated a conclusion which excited a storm of opposition, in -these words: “In the economy of the world I can find no traces of a -beginning, no prospect of an end.” This was thought to imply a denial -of creation, and was quite sufficient at that period to prevent the -work of any man of science from being judged impartially. - -But although Playfair and a few others upheld Hutton’s views, they -were too novel to receive much support by his contemporaries, and this -was especially the case as regards the slow and continuous action -of existing causes being sufficient to account for all the known -phenomena presented by the crust of the earth. Hence the belief in -catastrophes and cataclysms—in great convulsions tearing mountains -asunder, and vast floods sweeping over whole continents—continued to -prevail, till finally banished by the genius and perseverance of one -man, Sir Charles Lyell. His _Principles of Geology_ was first published -in 1830, and successive editions, revised and often greatly extended, -continued to appear till the author’s death, forty-five years later. As -this work affords a fine example of the application of the principles -of evolution to the later phases of the earth’s history, and as it not -only revolutionized scientific opinion in its own domain, but prepared -the way for the acceptance of the still more novel and startling -application of the same principles to the entire organic world, it -will be necessary to show what opinions prevailed at the time it first -appeared in order that we may understand how great was the change it -effected. - -In the earlier years of the nineteenth century the standard geological -work, both in Great Britain and on the Continent, was Cuvier’s _Essay -on the Theory of the Earth_. In 1827 a fifth edition of the English -translation appeared, and there was a German translation so late as -1830—sufficient proofs of its wide popularity. Yet this work abounds -in statements which are positively ludicrous to any one conversant -with modern geology. It never appeals to known causes, but again and -again assumes forces to be at work for which no evidence is adduced and -which are totally at variance with what we see in the world to-day. A -few examples justifying these statements must be here given. Cuvier -shows that he was acquainted with the theory of modern causes, but he -altogether rejects it, saying that “the march of nature is changed, -and none of the agents she now employs would have been sufficient -for the production of her ancient works.” He adduces “the primitive -mountains” whose “sharp and bristling ridges and peaks are indications -of the violent manner in which they have been elevated.” He allows -that atmospheric agencies may form sea-cliffs, alluvial deposits, and -taluses of loose matter at the foot of the precipices, but he adds: -“These are but limited effects to which vegetation in general puts -a stop, and which, besides, presuppose the existence of mountains, -valleys, and plains—in short, all the inequalities of the globe—and -which, therefore, cannot have given rise to those inequalities.” He -contrasts the calm and peaceful aspect of the surface of the earth -with the appearances discovered when we examine its interior. Here, in -the raised beds of shells, the fractured rocks, the inclined or even -vertical stratification, he finds abundant proofs “that the surface of -the globe has been broken up by revolutions and catastrophes.” - -He also refers to the numerous large blocks of the primitive rocks -scattered over the surface of secondary formations, and separated by -deep valleys or even by arms of the sea from the peaks or ridges from -which they must have been derived, as further proofs of catastrophes; -for, it is argued, they must have been either ejected by volcanic -eruptions or carried by waters, which, in either case, “must have -exceeded in violence anything we can imagine at the present day,” and -he therefore concludes that “it is in vain we search among the powers -which now act upon the surface of the earth for causes sufficient to -produce the revolutions and catastrophes, the traces of which are -exhibited in its crust.” He is quite confident that all these changes -go on rapidly, periods of catastrophe alternating with periods of -repose. The present surface of the earth he holds to be quite recent, -and he maintains “that, if anything in geology be established, it -is that the surface of our globe has undergone a great and sudden -revolution, the date of which cannot be referred to a much earlier -period than five or six thousand years ago; that this revolution -overwhelmed and caused to disappear the countries which were previously -inhabited by man, and the species of animals now best known; that, on -the other hand, it laid dry the bottom of the last sea, and formed -of it the countries which are at the present day inhabited.” And he -further declares that “this event has been sudden, instantaneous, -without any gradation; and what is so clearly demonstrated with respect -to this last catastrophe is not less so with reference to those which -preceded it.” - -The method followed by Lyell was the very reverse of that of Cuvier. -Instead of assuming hastily that modern causes were totally inadequate, -and appealing constantly to purely imaginary and often inconceivable -catastrophes, Lyell investigated these causes with painstaking -accuracy, applying the tests of survey and time measurement, so as in -many cases to prove that, given moderately long periods of time—not -a few thousands only, but hundreds of thousands of years—they were -fully adequate to explain the phenomena. He also showed that the -imaginary causes of Cuvier would not explain the facts, for that -everywhere in the crust of the earth we found conclusive proofs of very -slow continuous changes exactly analogous to what now occur, never -of great convulsions, except quite locally, as we have them now. He -showed that modern volcanoes had poured out vast masses of melted rock -during a single eruption, covering areas as extensive as those which -any ancient volcano could be proved to have ejected in an equally -short period; that strata were now in process of formation comparable -in extent and thickness with any ancient strata; that organic remains -are being preserved in them just as in the older rocks; that the land -is almost everywhere rising or sinking as of old; that valleys are -being excavated and plateaus or mountains upheaved; that earthquake -shocks are producing faults beneath the surface; that vegetation is -still preparing future coal beds; that limestones, clays, sandstones, -metamorphic and igneous rocks are all still being formed; and that, -given time, and the intermittent or continuous action of the causes we -can now trace in operation, and all the varied features of the earth’s -surface, as well as all the contortions and fractures which we discover -in its crust, and every other phenomenon supposed to necessitate -catastrophes and cataclysms will be again produced. - -In the massive volumes of the later editions of the _Principles of -Geology_ all these points are discussed and illustrated with such a -wealth of facts and such cogent yet cautious reasoning as have carried -conviction to all modern students. It affords us perhaps the very best -proof yet given of evolution in one department of the universe—that of -the surface and the crust of the earth we inhabit. Not only have all -the chief modifications during an almost unimaginable period of time -been clearly depicted, but they have in almost every case been shown to -be the inevitable results of real and comparatively well-known causes, -such as we now see at work around us. - -The grand generalizations of Lyell have been strengthened since his -death by more complete investigations of certain phenomena and their -causes than were possible in his day; while the only objections to them -seem to be founded, to some extent, upon a misconception. He has been -termed a “Uniformitarian,” and it is alleged that it is unphilosophical -to take the limited range of causes we now see in action, as a measure -of those which have acted during all past geological time. But neither -Lyell nor his followers make any such assumption. They merely say, we -do not find any proof of greater or more violent causes in action in -past times, and we do find many indications that the great natural -forces then in action—seas and rivers, sun and cloud, rain and -hail, frost and snow, as well as the very texture and constituents -of the older rocks, and the mode in which the organisms of each age -are preserved in them, must have been in their general nature and -magnitude very much as they are now. Other objections, such as that -the internal forces were greater when the earth was hotter, and that -tidal effects must have been more powerful when the moon was nearer -the earth, are altogether beside the question until we can obtain -more definite measures of past time than we now possess in reference -to both geological and cosmical phenomena. It may well be that the -physical changes above referred to have been so slow that they would -have produced no perceptibly increased effect at the epoch of the -early stratified rocks. Lyell’s doctrine is simply that of real -against imaginary causes, and he only denies catastrophes and more -violent agencies in early times, because there is no clear evidence -of their actual existence, and also because known causes are quite -competent to explain all geological phenomena. It must be remembered, -too, that uniformitarians have never limited the natural forces of -past geological periods to the precise limits of which we have had -experience during the historical period. What they maintain is, that -forces of the same _nature_ and of the same _order of magnitude_ are -adequate to have brought about the evolution of the crust of the earth -as we now find it. - - -ORGANIC EVOLUTION, ITS LAWS AND CAUSES - -We now come to that branch of the subject which is the most important -and distinctive of our age, and which, in popular estimation, alone -constitutes evolution—the mode of origin of the innumerable species of -animal and plant life which now exist or have ever existed upon the -earth. - -The origin of the different forms of life has till quite recent times -been looked upon as an almost insoluble problem, although a few -advanced thinkers, even in the eighteenth century, perceived that it -was probably the result of some natural process of modification or -evolution; but no force or law had been set forth and established -in any way adequate to produce it until the publication of Darwin’s -_Origin of Species_, in 1859. In the later editions of that work, -Darwin has given a historical sketch of the progress of opinion on the -subject. I shall, therefore, now only notice a few great writers which -he has not referred to. - -We have seen what an impossible and even ludicrous explanation had -to be given by Lucretius; and from his day down to the middle of the -eighteenth century no advance had been made. Either the problem was -not referred to at all, or the theological doctrine of a special -creation was held to be the only possible one. But in the middle of -the eighteenth century the great French naturalist, Buffon, published -his very important work, _Histoire Naturelle_, in fifteen volumes -(1749–1767), in which, besides describing the characters and habits -of all the animals then known, he introduced much philosophical and -speculative thought, which would probably have been carried much -further had he not felt obliged to conform to the religious prejudices -of the age. We are indebted to Mr. Samuel Butler for having brought -together all the important passages of Buffon’s voluminous and now -little-read works bearing upon the question of evolution, and it is -from his volume that I quote. - -Buffon lays stress on the great resemblance of all mammalia in internal -structure, showing that the most unlike creatures may be really alike -structurally. He says: “The horse, for example—what can at first -sight seem more unlike mankind? Yet when we compare man and horse, -point by point and detail by detail, our wonder is excited rather by -the resemblances than by the differences between them.” He then shows -that all the parts of the skeleton agree, and that it is only in -proportions, the increase of some bones and the suppression of others, -that they differ, adding: “If we regard the matter thus, not only the -ass and the horse, but even man himself, the apes, etc., might be -regarded as forming members of one and the same family.” Then, after a -few more illustrations, he remarks: “If we once admit that there are -families of plants and animals, so that the ass may be of the family -of the horse, and that the one may only differ from the other by -degeneration from a common ancestor, we might be driven to admit that -the ape is of the family of man, that he is but a degenerate man, and -that he and man have had a common ancestor.... If it were once shown -that we had right grounds for establishing these families, if the point -were once gained that among plants and animals there have been even a -single species which had been produced in the course of direct descent -from another species, then there is no further limit to be set to the -power of nature, and we should not be wrong in supposing that with -sufficient time she could have evolved all other organized forms from -one primordial type.” - -This indicates clearly enough his own opinion, but to save himself from -the ecclesiastical authorities he at once adds this saving clause: “But -no! It is certain, from revelation, that all animals have alike been -favored with the grace of an act of direct creation, and that the first -pair of every species issued full formed from the hands of the Creator.” - -Such examples of disarming religious prejudice are frequent, but he -continually recurs to statements as to mutability which neutralize -them. Here, for example, is a broad claim for nature as opposed to -creation. He has been showing how variable are many animals, and how -changes of food, climate, and general surroundings influence both their -forms and their habits; and then he exclaims: - -“What cannot nature effect with such means at her disposal? She can do -all except either create matter or destroy it. These two extremes of -power the Deity has reserved for Himself only; creation and destruction -are the action of His omnipotence. To alter and undo, to develop and -renew—these are powers which He has handed over to the charge of -nature.” - -Here we have a claim for the power of nature in the modification of -species which fully comes up to the requirements of the most advanced -evolutionist. It is remarkable, too, how clearly he perceived the -great factors so important for the evolution of organisms, rapid -multiplication, great variability, and the struggle for existence. -Thus he remarks: “It may be said that the movement of nature turns -upon two immovable pivots—one, the illimitable fecundity which she -has given to all species; the other, the innumerable difficulties -which reduce the results of that fecundity and leave throughout time -nearly the same quantity of individuals in every species.” Here the -term “difficulties” corresponds to the “positive checks” of Malthus, -and to the “struggle for existence” of Darwin; and he again and again -refers to variability—as when he says: “Hence, when by some chance, -common enough with nature, a variation or special feature makes its -appearance, man has tried to perpetuate it by uniting together the -individuals in which it has appeared.” - -As Buffon thus clearly understood artificial selection, thoroughly -appreciated the rapid increase of all organisms, and equally well saw -that their inordinate increase was wholly neutralized through such -destructive agencies as hunger, disease, and enemies, and as, at the -same time, he had such unbounded faith in the power of nature to modify -animal and vegetable forms, we feel assured that this great writer and -original thinker only needed freedom to pursue this train of thought a -little further and he would certainly have anticipated Darwin’s great -discovery of natural selection by a whole century. Even as it is we -must class him as one of the great pioneers of organic evolution. - -The next distinct step towards a theory of organic evolution was made -by the poet Goethe at the very end of the eighteenth century, in his -views of the metamorphosis of plants. He pointed out the successive -modifications of the leaf which produced all the other essential parts -of the higher plants—the simple cotyledons or seed leaves became -modified into the variously formed leaves of the fully grown plants; -these again were successively modified into the calyx, corolla, -stamens, and ovary of the flower. He supposed this to be due to the -increased refinement of the sap under the influence of light and air, -and to indicate the steps by which the various parts of the flower -had been developed. It was, therefore, a theory of evolution; but it -was very unsatisfactory, inasmuch as it in no way accounted for the -wonderful variety of the floral organs, or indicated any purpose served -by the most prominent and conspicuous part of the flower, the highly -colored and often strangely formed corolla. It was also erroneous in -supposing that the corolla was a modified calyx, whereas it is now -known to be a modification of the stamens. - -Next came the great work of Lamarck in the first decade of the -nineteenth century, in which he proposed a general system of -evolution of the whole animal world. Hence he may be termed the -first systematic evolutionist. His system has been rather fully -described by Lyell, who, in his _Principles of Geology_, devotes -a whole chapter to a summary of his doctrines; while Mr. Butler -gives copious quotations in three chapters of his _Evolution Old and -New_; and any one who is not acquainted with the original work of -Lamarck should read these two authors in order to understand how wide -was his knowledge, how ingenious his explanations, and in how many -important points he anticipated the views both of Lyell and Darwin. -But he was half a century in advance of his age, and his only alleged -causes of modification—changed conditions, use and disuse, habit -and effort—were wholly insufficient to account for the vast range -of the phenomena presented by the innumerable minute adaptations of -living organisms to their conditions of life. He even imputed all the -modifications of domestic animals to the changed conditions of food and -habits to which they have been subjected by man, making no reference to -the use of selection by breeders, in this respect falling short of his -great predecessor, Buffon. - -The general laws which Lamarck deduces from his elaborate study of -nature are these: - -“Firstly. That in every animal which has not passed its limit of -development, the more frequent and sustained employment of any organ -develops and aggrandizes it, giving it a power proportionate to the -duration of its employment, while the same organ, in default of -constant use, becomes insensibly weakened and deteriorated, decreasing -imperceptibly in power until it finally disappears. - -“Secondly. That these gains or losses of organic development, due to -use or disuse, are transmitted to offspring, provided they have been -common to both sexes, or to the animals from which the offspring have -descended.” - -The whole force of this argument depends upon the second clause—the -inheritance of those individual modifications due to use and disuse. -But no direct evidence of this has ever been found, while there is -a good deal of evidence showing that it does not occur. Again, there -are many structures which cannot have been produced by use, such, for -example, as the feathers of the peacock’s train, the poison in the -serpent’s fangs, the hard shells of nuts, the prickly covering of many -fruits, the varied armor of the turtle, porcupine, crocodile, and many -others. For these reasons Lamarck’s views gained few converts; and -although some of his arguments have been upheld in recent years, the -fatal objections to his general principle as a means of explaining the -evolution of organic forms has never been overcome. - -Between the periods of Lamarck and Darwin many advances were made -which clearly pointed to a general law of evolution in nature. Such -were Sir William Grove’s lectures on the “Correlation of the Physical -Forces,” in 1842; Helmholtz on the “Conservation of Energy,” in 1847; -and Herbert Spencer’s essay on “The Development Hypothesis,” in 1852. -This latter work was a complete and almost unanswerable argument for a -natural process of continuous evolution of the whole visible universe, -including organic nature, man, and social phenomena. It is further -extended in the later editions of the author’s _First Principles_, -which, as a coherent exposition of philosophy, co-ordinating and -explaining all human knowledge of the universe into one great system of -evolution everywhere conforming to the same general principles, must -be held to be one of the greatest intellectual achievements of the -nineteenth century. It left, however, the exact method of evolution -of organisms untouched, and thus failed to account for those complex -adaptations and appearances of design in the various species of animals -and plants which have always been the stronghold of those who advocated -special creation. This difficulty was met by Darwin’s theory of _The -Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection_, published in 1859, -and the series of works that succeeded it; and to a brief sketch of -this theory the remainder of our space must be devoted. - - -THE THEORY OF “NATURAL SELECTION” - -Although, as we have seen, a succession of great writers and thinkers -had for more than half a century shown the necessity for some process -of evolution as the only rational or intelligible mode of origin -of existing species of animals and plants, as well as of the whole -physical universe, yet these views were by no means generally accepted -by the educated classes, while few bodies of students were less -influenced by them than zoologists and botanists, generally known as -naturalists. - -Now, Darwin wrote especially for these classes, and no one knew better -than he did their great prejudice on this matter. Not only had such -men as Sir Charles Lyell and Sir John Herschel expressed themselves -strongly against all theories of the transmutation of species, but -the universal contempt and indignation of naturalists as well as -theologians against _The Vestiges of Creation_, published anonymously -a few years earlier, and giving a most temperate and even religious -exposition of the general arguments for the universality of evolution, -showed what any one might expect who advocated and attempted to -demonstrate a similar theory. This accounts for Darwin writing to Sir -Joseph Hooker, in 1844, of his being “almost convinced that species are -not (it is like confessing a murder) immutable,” and again, in 1845, to -the Rev. L. Blomefield, that he now saw the way in which new varieties -become exquisitely adapted to the external conditions of life and to -other surrounding beings, and he adds: “I am a bold man to lay myself -open to being thought a complete fool, and a most deliberate one.” -It is only by a consideration of the frame of mind of even advanced -thinkers at the time Darwin was preparing his work, and remembering -how small was the effect which had been produced by Buffon, Goethe, -Lamarck, the author of _Vestiges of Creation_, and the earlier writings -of Herbert Spencer, that we can adequately realize the marvellous work -that he accomplished. Let us now briefly consider the essential nature -of this new theory, which in a few brief years became the established -belief of the great majority of the students of nature, and which also -gave a new interest in nature to the whole thinking world. - -The theory of natural selection is founded upon a few groups of -thoroughly ascertained and universally admitted facts, with the direct -and necessary results of those facts. - -The first group of facts consists of the great powers of increase -of all organisms and the circumstance that, notwithstanding this -great yearly increase, the actual population of each species remains -stationary, there being no permanent increase. Now, these two facts -were recognized by Buffon, but though, of course, known to all -subsequent writers, were fully appreciated or thought out to their -logical results by none of them. Lamarck, so far as I can ascertain, -took no notice of them whatever. Darwin has given illustrations of -these facts in Chapter IV. of the _Origin of Species_, and I have added -others in the second chapter of my _Darwinism_. That the population -of each species remains stationary, with, of course, considerable -fluctuations, is both a matter of observation and of reasoning. The -powers of increase of all creatures are so great that if there is in -any country room and food for a larger number of any species they will -be produced in a year or two. It is impossible, therefore, to believe -that, in a state of nature, where all kinds of animals and plants have -lived together as they best could for thousands of years, there can be -any important difference in their numbers from year to year or from -century to century. - -Now, it is as a consequence of these two indisputable facts that the -struggle for existence necessarily results. For if every year each pair -of animals or each plant produces only ten young animals or plants, -and this is very far below the average, and if the adult life of these -is taken at ten years, again below the average of the higher plants -and animals, then, unless some of the parents die, the whole of the -offspring must die off every year; or, in other words, only as many -young can survive as are necessary to replace the old ones that die. -Hence the deaths must always (on the average and in the long run) equal -the births. This terrible yearly destruction is an absolutely certain -fact, as well as an inevitable result of the two preceding facts, and -it is said to be due to the struggle for existence. This struggle -is manifold in its nature. Individuals of the same species struggle -together for food, for light, for moisture; they struggle also against -other species having the same wants; they struggle against every kind -of enemy, from parasitic worms and insects up to carnivorous animals; -and there is a continual struggle with the forces of nature—frosts, -rains, droughts, floods, and tempests. - -These varied causes of destruction may be seen constantly at work -by any one who looks for them. They act from the moment of birth, -being more especially destructive to the young; and, as only one in -ten or fifty or a thousand (according to the rate of increase of -the particular species) can possibly come to the full breeding age, -we feel compelled to ask ourselves: What determines the nine or the -forty-nine or the nine hundred and ninety-nine, as the case may be, -which die, and the one which survives? Darwin calls this process of -extermination one of “natural selection”—that is, by this process -nature weeds out the weak, the unhealthy, the unadapted, the imperfect -in any way. Of course, what may be called chance or accident produces -many deaths of individuals otherwise well fitted to live, but if we -think of the process going on day by day and year by year till only -one in a hundred of those born in a given area are left alive, it is -impossible to suppose that the _one_ which has passed through all -the dangers and risks which have been fatal to, say, his ninety-nine -relations was not, in all the faculties and qualities essential to the -continuance of the race, decidedly better organized than the bulk of -those which succumbed. Herbert Spencer calls the process the “survival -of the fittest,” and though the term may not be strictly accurate in -the case of any one species in any one year, yet when we consider that -the struggle is going on _every_ year, during the whole duration of -each species, we cannot doubt that, on the whole, and in the long run, -those which survive are among the fittest. The struggle is so severe, -so incessant, that the smallest defect in any sense organ, any physical -weakness, any imperfection in constitution, will almost certainly, at -one time or another, be fatal. - -This continual weeding out of the less fit, in every generation, and -with exceptional severity in recurring adverse seasons, will produce -two distinct effects, which require to be clearly distinguished. The -first is the preservation of each species in the highest state of -adaptation to the conditions of its existence; and, therefore, so -long as these conditions remained unchanged, the effect of natural -selection is to keep each well-adapted species also unchanged. The -second effect is produced whenever the conditions vary, when, taking -advantage of the variations continually occurring in all well-adapted -and therefore populous species, the same process will slowly but surely -bring about complete adaptation to the new conditions. And here another -fact—the normal variability of all populous or dominant species, which -is seldom realized except by those who have largely and minutely -compared the individuals of many species in a state of nature—comes -into play. There are some writers who admit all the preceding facts -and reasoning, so far as the action of natural selection in weeding -out the unfit and thus keeping every species in the highest state of -efficiency is concerned, but who deny that it can modify them in such a -way as to adapt them to new conditions, because they allege that “the -right variations will not always occur at the right time.” This seems -a strong and real objection to many of their readers, but to those -who have studied the variability of species in nature, it is a mere -verbal difficulty dependent on ignorance of the actual facts. A brief -statement of the facts must therefore be given. - -Of late years, and chiefly since Darwin’s works were written, the -variability of animals and plants in a state of nature has been -carefully studied, by actual comparison and measurement of scores, -hundreds, and even thousands of individuals of many common, that is, -abundant and widely distributed species; and it is found that in almost -every case they vary greatly, and, what is still more important, that -every organ and every appendage varies independently and to a large -amount. Some of the best known of these facts of variation are adduced -in my _Darwinism_, and are illustrated by numerous diagrams, and much -more extensive series have since been examined, always with the same -general result. By large variability is meant a variation of from ten -to twenty-five per cent. on each side of the mean size, this amount -of variation occurring in at least five or ten per cent. of the whole -number of individuals, and in every organ or part as yet examined, -external or internal. - -Now, as the weeding-out process is so severe, only from one in ten to -one in a hundred of those born surviving to produce young, the above -proportion of variations affords ample scope for the selection of -any variation needed in order to modify the species so as to bring it -into harmony with new or changing conditions. And this will be the -more easy and certain if we consider how slowly land-surfaces and -climates undergo permanent changes; and these are certainly the kind of -changes that initiate and compel alterations, first, perhaps, in the -distribution, and afterwards in the structure and habits of species. -It follows, therefore, as an absolutely necessary conclusion from the -facts, if natural selection can and does keep each continually varying -species in close adaptation to an unchanging environment, that it -preserves the fixity of its mean or average condition, and almost every -objector admits this. Then, given a slowly changing environment, the -same power must inevitably bring about whatever corresponding change is -needed for the well-being and permanent survival of the various species -which are subjected to those changed conditions. - -I shall not add here a further consideration of the objections and -difficulties alleged by critics of the theory. All of these have, -I believe, been fully answered either by Darwin or myself, many of -the most recent having been discussed in review articles. Suffice -it to say here that this theory of natural selection—meaning the -elimination of the least fit, and therefore the ultimate “survival of -the fittest”—has furnished a rational and precise explanation of the -means of adaptation of all existing organisms to their conditions, -and therefore of their transformation from the series of distinct but -allied species which occupied the earth at some preceding epoch. In -this sense it has actually demonstrated the “origin of species,” and, -by carrying back this process step by step into earlier and earlier -geological times, we are able mentally to follow out the evolution of -all forms of life from one or a few primordial forms. Natural selection -has thus supplied that motive power of change and adaptation that was -wanting in all earlier attempts at explanation, and this has led to its -very general acceptance both by naturalists and by the great majority -of thinkers and men of science. - -The brief sketch now given of the progress of human thought on the -questions of the fact and the mode of the evolution of the material -universe indicates how great has been the progress during the -nineteenth as compared with all preceding centuries. - -Although the philosophical writers of classical times obtained a few -glimpses of the action of law in nature regulating its successive -changes, nothing satisfactory could be effected till the actual facts -had been better ascertained by the whole body of workers who, during -the last five centuries, have penetrated ever more and more deeply into -nature’s mysteries and laws. By their labors we became possessed of -such a body of carefully observed facts that, towards the end of the -eighteenth century, such thinkers as Laplace and Hutton were enabled -to give us the first rudiments of theories of evolution as applied to -the solar system and the earth’s crust, both of which have been greatly -developed and rendered more secure during the century just passed away. - -In like manner Buffon and Goethe may be said to have started the idea -of organic evolution, more systematically treated a little later by -Lamarck, but still without any discovery of laws adequate to produce -the results we see everywhere in nature. The subject then languished, -till, after twenty years of observation and research, Charles Darwin -produced a work which at once satisfied many thinkers that the -long-desired clew had been discovered. Its acceptance by almost the -whole scientific world soon followed: it threw new light on almost -every branch of research, and it will probably take its place, in the -opinion of future generations, as the crowning achievement of the -nineteenth century. - - ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE. - - - - -CHEMISTRY - - -The progress of the science of chemistry forms one phase of the -progress of human thought. While at first mankind was contented to -observe certain phenomena, and to utilize them for industrial purposes, -if they were found suitable, “philosophers,” as the thinking portion -of our race loved to call themselves, have always attempted to assign -some explanation for observed facts, and to group them into similars -and dissimilars. It was for long imagined, following the doctrines of -the Greeks and of their predecessors, that all matter consisted of four -elements or principles, names which survive to this day in popular -language. These were “fire,” “air,” “water,” and “earth.” It was not -until the seventeenth century that Boyle in his _Sceptical Chymist_ -(1661) laid the foundations of the modern science, by pointing out -that it was impossible to explain the existence of the fairly numerous -chemical substances known in his day, or the changes which they can be -made to undergo, by means of the ancient Greek hypotheses regarding the -constitution of matter. He laid down the definition of the modern -meaning of the word “element”; he declined to accept the current view -that the properties of matter could be modified by its assimilating -the qualities of fire, air, earth, or water, and he defined an element -as the _constituent_ of a compound body. The first problem, then, to be -solved, was to determine which of the numerous forms of matter were -to be regarded as elementary, and which are compound, or composed of -two or more elements in a state of combination; and to produce such -compounds by causing the appropriate elements to unite with each other. - -One of the first objects to excite curiosity and interest was the air -which surrounds us, and in which we live and move and have our being. -It was, however, endowed with a semi-spiritual and scarcely corporeal -nature in the ideas of our ancestors, for it does not affect the -senses of sight, smell, or taste, and though it can be felt, yet it -eludes our grasp. The word “gas,” moreover, was not invented until Van -Helmont devised it to designate various kinds of “airs” which he had -observed. The important part which gases play in the constitution of -many chemical compounds was accordingly overlooked; and, indeed, it -appeared to be almost as striking a feat of necromancy to produce a -quantity of a gas of great volume from a small pinch of solid powder -as for a “Jinn” of enormous stature but of delicate texture to issue -from a brass pot, as related in the _Arabian Nights Entertainments_. -Gradually, however, it came to be recognized, not merely that gases -have corporeal existence, but that they even possess weight. This, -though foreshadowed by Torricelli, Jean Rey, and others, was first -clearly proved by Black, professor of chemistry in Edinburgh, in 1752, -through his masterly researches, as carbonic acid. - -The ignorance of the material nature of gases and of their weight -lies at the bottom of the “Phlogistic Theory,” a theory devised by -Stahl about the year 1690, to account for the phenomena of combustion -and respiration and the recovery or “reduction” of metals from their -“earths” by heating with charcoal or allied bodies. According to -this inverted theory, a substance capable of burning was imagined -to contain more or less phlogiston, a principle which it parted -with on burning, leaving an earth deprived of phlogiston, or -“dephlogisticated,” behind if a metal. This earth, when heated with -substances rich in phlogiston, such as coal, wood, flour, and similar -bodies, recovered the phlogiston, which it had lost on burning, and, -with the added phlogiston, its metallic character. Other substances, -such as phosphorus and sulphur, gave solids or acid liquids, to -which phlogiston was not so easy to add; but even they could be -rephlogisticated. On this hypothesis, it was the earths, and such acid -liquids as sulphuric or phosphoric acids, which were the elements; the -metals and sulphur and phosphorus were their compounds with phlogiston. - -The discovery of oxygen by Priestley and by Scheele in 1774, and -the explanation of its functions by Lavoisier during the following -ten years, gave their true meaning to these phenomena. It was then -recognized that combustion was union with oxygen; that an “earth” or -“calx” was to be regarded as the compound of a metal with oxygen; that -when a metal becomes tarnished, and converted into such an earthy -powder, it is being oxidized; that this oxide, on ignition with -charcoal or carbon, or with compounds such as coal, flour, or wood, -of which carbon is a constituent, gives up its oxygen to the carbon, -forming an oxide of carbon, carbonic oxide on the one hand, or carbonic -“acid” on the other, while the metal is reproduced in its “reguline” -or metallic condition, and that the true elements are metals, carbon, -sulphur, phosphorus, and similar bodies, and not the products of their -oxidation. - -The discovery that air is in the main a mixture of nitrogen, an inert -gas, and oxygen, an active one, together with a small proportion of -carbonic “acid” (or, as it is now termed, anhydride)—a discovery -perfected by Rutherford, Black, and Cavendish—and that water is a -compound with oxygen of hydrogen, previously known as inflammable air, -by Cavendish and by Watt, finally overthrew the theory of phlogiston; -but at the beginning of this century it still lingered on, and was -defended by Priestley until his death in 1804. Such, in brief, was -the condition of chemical thought in the year 1800. Scheele had died -in 1786, at the early age of forty-four; Lavoisier was one of the -victims of the French Revolution, having been guillotined in 1794; -Cavendish had ceased to work at chemical problems, and was devoting his -extraordinary abilities to physical problems of the highest importance, -while living the life of an eccentric recluse, and Priestley, driven -by religious persecution from England to the more tolerant shores of -America, was enjoying a peaceful old age, enlivened by occasional -incursions into the region of sectarian controversy. - -The first striking discovery of our century was that of the compound -nature of the alkalies and of the alkaline earths. This discovery was -made by Humphry Davy. Born in Cornwall in 1778, he began the study of -chemistry, self-taught, in 1796; and in 1799 he became director of -the “Pneumatic Institution,” an undertaking founded by Dr. Beddoes, -at Bristol, for the purpose of experiments on the curative effects -of gases in general. Here he at once made his mark by the discovery -of the remarkable properties of “laughing gas,” or nitrous oxide. At -the same time he constructed a galvanic battery, and began to perform -experiments with it in attempting to decompose chemical compounds by -its means. In 1801 Davy was appointed professor of chemistry at the -Royal Institution, a society or club which had been founded a few -years previously by Benjamin Thompson, Count Rumford, for the purpose -of instructing and amusing its members with recent discoveries in -chemistry and natural philosophy. In 1807 Davy applied his galvanic -battery to the decomposition of damp caustic potash and soda, using -platinum poles. He was rewarded by seeing globules of metal, resembling -mercury in appearance, at the negative pole; and he subsequently proved -that these globules, when burned, reproduced the alkali from which -they had been derived. They also combined with “oxymuriatic acid,” as -chlorine (discovered by Scheele) was then termed, forming ordinary -salt, if sodium be employed, and the analogous salt, “muriate of -potash,” if the allied metal, potassium, were subjected to combustion. -By using mercury as the negative pole, and passing a current through a -strong solution of the chloride of calcium, strontium, or barium, Davy -succeeded in procuring mixtures with mercury or “amalgams” of their -metals, to which he gave the names calcium, strontium, and barium. -Distillation removed most of the mercury, and the metal was left -behind in a state of comparative purity. The alkali metals, potassium -and sodium, were found to attack glass, liberating “the basis of the -silex,” to which the name silicon has since been given. - -Thus nearly the last of the “earths” had been decomposed. It was proved -that not merely were the “calces” of iron, copper, lead, and other -well-known metals compounds of the respective metals with oxygen, but -Davy showed that lime, and its allies, strontia and baryta, and even -silica or flint, were to be regarded as oxides of elements of metallic -appearance. To complete our review of this part of the subject, -suffice it to say that aluminum, a metal now produced on an industrial -scale, was prepared for the first time in 1827 by Wöhler, professor of -chemistry at Göttingen, by the action of potassium on its chloride, -and alumina, the earthy basis of clay, was shown to be the oxide of -the metal aluminum. Indeed, the preparation of this metal in quantity -is now carried out at Schoffhausen-on-the-Rhine and at the Falls of -Foyers, in Scotland, by electrolysis of the oxide dissolved in melted -cryolite, a mineral consisting of the fluorides of sodium and aluminum, -by a method differing only in scale from that by means of which Davy -isolated sodium and potassium in 1806. - -To Davy, too, belongs the merit of having dethroned oxygen from its -central position among the elements. Lavoisier gave to this important -gas the name “oxygen,” because he imagined it to be the constituent -of all acids. He renamed the common compounds of oxygen in such a -manner that the term oxygen was not even represented in the name—only -inferred. Thus a “nitrate” is a compound of an oxide of nitrogen -and an oxide of a metal; a “sulphate,” of the oxide of a metal with -one of the oxides of sulphur, and so on. Davy, by discovering the -elementary nature of chlorine, showed, first, that it is not an -oxide of hydrochloric acid (or muriatic acid as it was then called); -and, second, that the latter acid is the compound of the element -chlorine with hydrogen. This he did by passing chlorine over white-hot -carbon—a substance eminently suited to deprive oxy-compounds of their -oxygen—and proving that no oxide of carbon is thereby produced; by -acting on certain chlorides, such as those of tin or phosphorus with -ammonia, and showing that no oxide of tin or phosphorus is formed; and, -lastly, by decomposing “muriatic acid gas” (gaseous hydrogen chloride) -with sodium, and showing that the only product besides common salt is -hydrogen. Instead, therefore, of the former theory that a chloride was -a compound of the unknown basis of oxymuriatic acid with oxygen and -the oxide of a metal, he introduced the simpler and correct view that -a chloride is merely a compound of the element chlorine with a metal. -In 1813 he established the similar nature of fluorine, pointing out -that on the analogy of the chlorides it was a fair deduction that the -fluorides are compounds of an undiscovered element, fluorine, with -metals; and that hydrofluoric acid is the true analogue of hydrochloric -acid. The truth of this forecast has been established of recent years -by Henri Moissan, who isolated gaseous fluorine by subjecting a mixture -of hydrofluoric acid and hydrogen potassium fluoride contained in a -platinum U tube to the action of a powerful electric current. He has -recently found that the tube may be equally well constructed of copper; -and this may soon lead to the industrial application of the process. -The difficulty of isolating fluorine is due to its extraordinary -chemical energy; for there are few substances, elementary or compound, -which resist the action of this pale yellow, suffocating gas. In 1811 -iodine, separated by Courtois from the ashes of sea-plants, was shown -by Davy to be an element analogous to chlorine. Gay-Lussac subsequently -investigated it and prepared many of its compounds; and in 1826 the -last of these elements, bromine, was discovered in the mother-liquor -of sea-salt by Balard. The elements of this group have been termed -“halogens,” or “salt producers.” - -While Davy was pouring his researches into the astonished ears of -the scientific and dilettante world, John Dalton, a Manchester -school-master, conceived a theory that has proved of the utmost service -to the science of chemistry, and which bids fair to outlast our day. It -had been noticed by Wenzel, by Richter, by Wollaston, and by Cavendish, -towards the end of the last century, that the same compounds contain -the same constituents in the same proportions, or, as the phrase runs, -“possess constant composition.” Wollaston, indeed, had gone one step -farther, and had shown that when the vegetable acid, oxalic acid, is -combined with potash, it forms two compounds, in one of which the acid -is contained in twice as great an amount relatively to the potash as -in the other. The names _monoxalate_ and _binoxalate_ of potash were -applied to these compounds, to indicate the respective proportions of -the ingredients. Dalton conceived the happy idea that by applying the -ancient Greek conception of atoms to such facts the relative weights -of the atoms could be determined. Illustrating his views with the two -compounds of carbon with hydrogen, marsh gas and olefiant gas, and with -the two acids of carbon, carbonic oxide, carbonic “acid,” he regarded -the former as a compound of one atom of carbon and one of hydrogen, and -the second as a compound of one atom of carbon and two of hydrogen, and -similarly for the two oxides of carbon. Knowing the relative weights -in which these elements enter into combination, we can deduce the -relative weights of the atoms. Placing the relative weight of an atom -of hydrogen equal to unity, we have: - - Marsh Olefiant | Carbonic Carbonic - Gas Gas | Oxide Acid - Carbon 6 6 | Carbon 5 6 - Hydrogen 1 2 | Oxygen 8 16 - -Thus the first compound, marsh gas, was regarded by Dalton as -composed of an atom of carbon in union with an atom of hydrogen; or, -to reproduce his symbols, as ⊜◉; while the second, olefiant gas, on -this hypothesis, was a compound of two atoms of hydrogen with one of -carbon, or ◉◍◉. Similarly the symbols ◍○, and ○◍○ were given to the two -compounds of carbon with oxygen. So water was assigned the symbol ◉○, -for Dalton imagined it to be a compound of one atom of hydrogen with -one of oxygen. Compounds containing only two atoms were termed by him -“binary”; those containing three, “ternary”; four, “quaternary,” and -so on. The weight of an atom of oxygen was eight times that of an atom -of hydrogen; while that of an atom of carbon was six times as great -as the unit. By assigning symbols to the elements, consisting of the -initial letters of their names, or of the first two letters, formulas -were developed, indicating the composition of the compound, the atomic -weights of the elements being assured. Thus, NaO signified a compound -of an atom of sodium (natrium), weighing twenty-three times as much as -a similar atom of hydrogen, with an atom of oxygen, possessing eight -times the weight of an atom of hydrogen. Therefore, thirty-one pounds -of soda should consist of twenty-three pounds of sodium in combination -with eight pounds of oxygen, for, according to Dalton, each smallest -particle of soda contains an atom of each element, and the proportion -is not changed, however many particles be considered. - -It has been pointed out by Judge Stallo, of Philadelphia, in his -_Concepts of Physics_, that such a hypothesis as that of Dalton is -no explanation; that a fact of nature, as, for example, the fact of -simple and multiple proportions, is not _explained_ by being minified. -Allowing the general truth of this statement, it is, nevertheless, -undoubted that chemistry owes much to Dalton’s hypothesis—a lucky -guess at first, it represents one of the fundamental truths of nature, -although its form must be somewhat modified from that in which Dalton -conceived it. Dalton’s work was first expounded by Thomas Thomson, -professor at Glasgow, in his _System of Chemistry_, published in 1805; -and subsequently in Dalton’s own _New System of Chemical Philosophy_, -the three volumes of which were published in 1808, in 1810, and in 1827. - -The determination of these “Constants of Nature” was at once followed -out by many chemists, Thomson among the first. But chief among the -chemists who have pursued this branch of work was Jacob Berzelius, -a Swede, who devoted his long life (1779–1848) to the manufacture -of compounds, and to the determination of their composition, or, as -it is still termed, the determination of the “atomic weights”—more -correctly, “equivalents”—of the elements of which they are composed. -It is to him that we owe most of our analytical methods, for, prior to -his time, there were few, if any, accurate analyses. Although Lavoisier -had devised a method for the analysis of compounds of carbon, viz., -by burning the organic compounds in an atmosphere of oxygen contained -in a bell-jar over mercury, and measuring the volume of carbon dioxide -produced, as well as that of the residual oxygen, Berzelius achieved -the same results more accurately and more expeditiously by heating the -substance, mixed with chlorate of potassium and sodium chloride, and -then estimating the hydrogen as well as the carbon; this process was -afterwards perfected by Liebig. Berzelius, however, was able to show -that compounds of carbon, like those of other elements, were instances -of combination in constant and in multiple proportions. - -In 1815 two papers were published in the _Annals of Philosophy_ by Dr. -Prout, which have had much influence on the progress of chemistry. They -dealt with the figures which were being obtained by Thomson, Berzelius, -and others, at that time supposed to represent the “atomic weights” of -the elements. Prout’s hypothesis, based on only a few numbers, was that -the atomic weights of all elements were multiples of that of hydrogen, -taken as unity. There was much dispute regarding this assertion at the -time, but as it was contradicted by Berzelius’s numbers, the balance -of opinion was against it. But about the year 1840 Dumas discovered an -error in the number (12.12) given by Berzelius as the atomic weight of -carbon; and with his collaborator, Stas, undertook the redetermination -of the atomic weights of the commoner elements—for example, carbon, -oxygen, chlorine, and calcium. This line of research was subsequently -pursued alone by Stas, whose name will always be remembered for the -precision and accuracy of his experiments. At first Dumas and Stas -inclined to the view that Prout’s hypothesis was a just one, but it -was completely disproved by Stas’s subsequent work, as well as by that -of numerous other observers. It is, nevertheless, curious that a much -larger proportion of the atomic weights approximate to whole numbers -than would be foretold by the doctrine of chances, and perhaps the last -has not been heard of Prout’s hypothesis, although in its original -crude form it is no longer worthy of credence. - -One of the most noteworthy of the discoveries of the century was -made by Gay-Lussac (1778–1850) in the year 1808. In conjunction with -Alexander von Humboldt, Gay-Lussac had rediscovered about three years -before what had previously been established by Cavendish—namely, -that, as nearly as possible, two volumes of hydrogen combine with one -volume of oxygen to form water, the gases having been measured at the -same temperature and pressure. Humboldt suggested to Gay-Lussac that -it would be well to investigate whether similar simple relations exist -between the volumes of other gaseous substances when they combine with -each other. This turned out to be the case; it appeared that almost -exactly two volumes of carbonic oxide unite with one volume of oxygen -to form carbon dioxide; that equal volumes of chlorine and hydrogen -unite to form hydrochloric acid gas; that two volumes of ammonia -gas consist of three volumes of hydrogen in union with one volume -of nitrogen, and so on. From such facts, Gay-Lussac was led to make -the statement that: The weights of equal volumes of both simple and -compound gases, and therefore their densities, are proportional to -their empirically found combining weights, or to rational multiples -of the latter. Gay-Lussac recognized this discovery of his to be a -support for the atomic theory; but it did not accord with many of the -then received atomic weights. The assumption that equal volumes of -gases contain equal numbers of particles, or, as they were termed by -him, _molécules intégrantes_, was made in 1811 by Avogadro, professor -of physics at Turin (1776–1856). This theory, which has proved of the -utmost importance to the sciences both of physics and of chemistry, -had no doubt occurred to Gay-Lussac, and had been rejected by him for -the following reasons: A certain volume of hydrogen, say one cubic -inch, may be supposed to contain an equal number of particles (atoms) -as an equal volume of chlorine. Now these two gases unite in equal -volumes. The deduction appears so far quite legitimate that one atom of -hydrogen has combined with one atom of chlorine. But the resulting gas -occupies two cubic inches, and must therefore contain the same number -of particles of hydrogen chloride, the compound of the two elements, -as one cubic inch originally contained of hydrogen, or of chlorine. -Thus we have two cubic inches containing, of uncombined gases, twice -as many particles as is contained in that volume, after combination. -Avogadro’s hypothesis solved the difficulty. By premising two different -orders of particles, now termed _atoms_ and _molecules_, the solution -was plain. According to him, each particle, or molecule, of hydrogen is -a complex, and contains two atoms; the same is the case with chlorine. -When these gases combine, or rather _react_, to form hydrogen chloride, -the phenomenon is one of a change of partners; the molecule, the double -atom, of hydrogen splits; the same is the case with the molecule of -chlorine; and each liberated atom of hydrogen unites with a liberated -atom of chlorine, forming a compound, hydrogen chloride, which equally -consists of a molecule, or double atom. Thus two cubic inches of -hydrogen chloride consist of a definite number of molecules, equal -in number to those contained in a cubic inch of hydrogen, plus those -contained in a cubic inch of chlorine. The case is precisely similar, -if other compounds of gases be considered. - -Berzelius was at first inclined to adopt this theory, and indeed went -so far as to change many of his atomic weights to make them fit it. -But later he somewhat withdrew from his position, for it appeared to -him that it was hazardous to extend to liquids and solids a theory -which could be held only of gases. Avogadro’s suggestion, therefore, -rested in abeyance until the publication, in 1858, by Cannizzaro, now -professor of chemistry in Rome, of an essay in which all the arguments -in favor of the hypothesis were collected and stated in a masterly -manner. It will be advisable to revert to this hypothesis at a later -point, and to consider other guides for the determination of atomic -weights. - -In 1819, Dulong (1785–1838), director of the Ecole Polytechnique at -Paris, and Petit (1791–1820), professor of physics there, made the -discovery that equal amounts of heat are required to raise equally the -temperature of solid and liquid elements, provided quantities are taken -proportional to their atomic weights. Thus, to raise the temperature of -56 grammes of iron through one degree requires approximately the same -amount of heat as is required to raise through one degree 32 grammes of -sulphur, 63.5 grammes of copper, and so on; these numbers representing -the atomic weights of the elements named. In other words, _equal -numbers of atoms have equal capacity for heat_. The number of heat -units, or calories (one calory is the amount of heat required to raise -the temperature of 1 gramme of water through 1° C.), which is necessary -to raise the atomic weight expressed in grammes of any solid or liquid -element through 1° C. is approximately 6.2; it varies between 5.7 and -6.6 in actual part. This affords a means of determining the true value -of the atomic weight of an element, as the following example will show: -The analysis of the only compound of zinc and chlorine shows that it -contains 47.49 per cent. of zinc and 52.16 per cent. of chlorine. Now -one grain of hydrogen combines with 35.5 grains of chlorine to form -36.5 grains of hydrogen chloride; and, as already remarked, one volume -of hydrogen and one volume of chlorine combine, forming two volumes of -hydrogen chloride. Applying Avogadro’s hypothesis, one molecule of -hydrogen and one molecule of chlorine react to yield two molecules of -hydrogen chloride; and as each molecule is supposed to consist in this -case of two atoms, hydrogen chloride consists of one atom of each of -its constituent elements. The amount of that element, therefore, which -combines with 35.5 grains of chlorine may give the numerical value of -the atomic weight of the element, if the compound contains one atom -of each element; in that case the formula of the above compound would -be zinc, and the atomic weight of zinc, 32.7; but if the formula is -ZuCl3, the atomic weight of zinc would be 32.7 × 2; if ZuCl3, 32.7 × 3, -and so on. The specific heat of metallic zinc enables this question to -be solved. For it has been found, experimentally, to be about 0.095; -and 6.2 ÷ 0.095 = 65.2, a close approximation to 32.7 × 2 = 65.4. The -conclusion is therefore drawn that zinc chloride is composed of one -atom of zinc in combination with two atoms of chlorine, that the atomic -weight of zinc is 65.4, and that the molecular weight of zinc chloride -is 65.4 + (35.5 × 2) = 136.4. Inasmuch as the relative weight of a -molecule of hydrogen is 2 (that of an atom being 1), zinc chloride in -the gaseous state should be 136.4 ÷ 2 = 68.2 times that of hydrogen, -measured at the same temperature and pressure. This has been found, -experimentally, to be the case. - -The methods of determining the vapor densities, or relative weights of -vapors, are three in number; the first method, due to Dumas (1827), -consists in vaporizing the substance in question in a bulb of glass or -of porcelain, at a known temperature, closing the bulb while still hot, -and weighing it after it is cold. Knowing the capacity of the bulb, -the weight of hydrogen necessary to fill it at the desired temperature -can be calculated, and the density of the vapor thus arrived at. -A second method was devised by Gay-Lussac and perfected by A. W. -Hofmann (1868); and a third, preferable for its simplicity and ease of -execution, is due to Victor Meyer (1881). - -In 1858, as already remarked, Cannizzaro showed the connection between -these known facts, and for the first time attention was called to -the true atomic weights, which were, up to that time, confused with -equivalents, or weights of elements required to replace one unit weight -of hydrogen. These were generally regarded as atomic weights by Dalton -and his contemporaries. - -Some exceptions had been observed to the law of Dulong and Petit, viz., -beryllium, or glucinium, an element occurring in emeralds; boron, -of which borax is a compound; silicon, the component of quartz and -flint, and carbon. It was found by Weber that at high temperatures -the specific heats of these elements are higher, and the atomic heats -approximate to the number of 6.2; but this behavior is not peculiar to -these elements, for it appears that the specific heat of all elements -increases with rise of temperature. - -A certain number of exceptions have also been noticed to the law of -Gay-Lussac, which may be formulated: the molecular weight of a compound -in a gaseous state is twice its density referred to hydrogen. Thus -equal volumes of ammonia and hydrogen chloride unite to form ammonium -chloride. It was to be expected that the density should be half the -molecular weight, thus: - - NH3 + HCl = NH4Cl; and 53.5 ÷ 2 = 26.75 = density. - (14+3) (1+35.5) 53.5 - -But the density actually found is only half that number, viz., 13.37; -and for long this and similar cases were supposed to be exceptions -to the law of Gay-Lussac, viz., that equal volumes of gases at the -same pressure expand equally for equal rise of temperature. In other -instances the gradual decrease in density with rise of temperature can -be followed, as with chloral hydrate, the products of which are chloral -and water. - -It was recognized by St. Claire Deville (1857) that the decrease -in density of such mixtures of gases was due, not to their being -exceptions to Avogadro’s law, but to the gradual decomposition of the -compound body with rise of temperature. To this gradual decomposition -he gave the name _dissociation_. This conception has proved of the -utmost importance to the science, as will be seen in the sequel. To -take the above instance of ammonium chloride, its abnormal density is -due to its dissociation into ammonia and hydrogen chloride; and the gas -which is obtained on raising its temperature consists, not of gaseous -ammonium chloride, but of a mixture of ammonia and hydrogen chloride, -which, as is easily seen, occupy, when separate, twice the volume that -would be occupied by the gaseous compound. Of recent years it has been -shown by Brereton Baker that, if perfectly free from moisture, ammonium -chloride gasifies as such, and that its density in the state of vapor -is, in fact, 26.75. - -The molecular complexity of gases has thus gradually become -comprehended, and the truth of Avogadro’s law has gained acceptance. -And as a means of picturing the behavior of gaseous molecules, the -“Kinetic Theory of Gases” has been devised by Joule, Clausius, Maxwell, -Thomson (Lord Kelvin), and others. On the assumption that the pressure -of a gas on the walls of the vessel which contains it is due to the -continued impacts of its molecules, and that the temperature of a gas -is represented by the product of the mass of the molecules, or the -square of their velocity, it has been possible to offer a mechanical -explanation of Boyle’s law, that at constant temperature the volume -of a gas diminishes in proportion as the pressure increases; of -Gay-Lussac’s law, that all gases expand equally for equal rise of -temperature, provided pressure is kept constant; the condition being -that equal volumes of gases contain equal numbers of molecules. A -striking support is lent to this chain of reasoning by the facts -discovered by Thomas Graham (1805–1869), professor at University -College, London, and subsequently master of the Royal Mint. Graham -discovered that the rate of diffusion of gases into each other is -inversely as the square roots of their densities. For instance, the -density of hydrogen being taken as unity, that of oxygen is sixteen -times as great; if a vessel containing hydrogen be made to communicate -with one containing oxygen, the hydrogen will pass into the oxygen and -mix with it; and, conversely, the oxygen will pass into the hydrogen -vessel. This is due to the intrinsic motion of the molecule of each -gas. And Graham found, experimentally, that for each volume of oxygen -which enters the hydrogen vessel four volumes of hydrogen will enter -the oxygen vessel. Now, 4 = √16; and as these masses are relatively -1 and 16, and their temperatures are equal, the square of their -velocities are respectively 1 and 16. - -The question of the molecular complexity of gases being thus disposed -of, it remains to be considered what are the relative complexity of -liquid molecules. The answer is indicated by a study of the capillary -phenomena of liquids, one method of measuring which is the height of -their ascent in narrow or capillary tubes. We shall not enter here into -detail as to the method and arguments necessary; suffice it to say that -the Hungarian physicist Eötvös was the first to indicate the direction -of research, and that Ramsay and Shields succeeded in proving that the -complexity of the molecules of most liquids is not greater than that -of the gases which they form on being vaporized; and also that certain -liquids, _e.g._, water, the alcohols, and other liquids, are more or -less “associated,” _i.e._, their molecules occur in couplices of two, -three, four, or more, and as the temperature is raised the complexity -of molecular structure diminishes. - -As regards the molecular complexity of solids, nothing definite -is known, and, moreover, there appears to be no method capable of -revealing it. - -While the researches of which a short account has now been given have -led to knowledge regarding the nature of molecules, the structure -of the molecule has excited interest since the early years of the -century, and its investigation has led to important results. The -fact of the decomposition of acidified water by an electric current, -discovered by Nicholson and Carlisle, and of salts into “bases” and -“acids” by Berzelius and Hisinger in 1803, led to the belief that -a close connection exists between electric energy, or, as it was -then termed, “electric force,” and the affinity which holds the -constituents of chemical compounds in combination. In 1807 Davy -propounded the theory that all compounds consist of two portions, one -electro-positive and the other electro-negative. This idea was the -result of experiments on the behavior of substances, such, for example, -as copper and sulphur—if portions of these elements be insulated and -then brought into contact they become oppositely electrified. The -degree of electrification is intensified by rise of temperature until, -when combination ensues, the electrification vanishes. Combination, -therefore, according to Davy, is concurrent with the equalization of -potentials. In 1812 Berzelius brought forward an electro-chemical -theory which for the following twenty years was generally accepted. -His primary assumption was that the atoms of elements, or, in certain -cases, groups of atoms, are themselves electrified; that each atom, or -group of atoms, possesses two poles, one positive, the other negative; -that the electrification of one of these poles predominates over -that of the other, so that the atom or group is itself, as a whole, -electro-positive, or electro-negative; that combination ensued between -such oppositely electrified bodies by the neutralization, partial or -complete, of their electric charges; and, lastly, that the polarity -of an element or group could be determined by noting whether the -element or group separated at the positive or at the negative pole of -the galvanic battery, or electrolysis. For Berzelius, oxygen was the -most electro-negative and potassium the most electro-positive of the -elements, the bridge between the “non-metals” and the “metals” being -hydrogen, which, with nitrogen, forms a basic, or electro-positive, -group, while with chlorine, etc., it forms electro-negative groups. -The fact that an electric current splits compounds in solution -into two portions led Berzelius to devise his “dualistic” system, -which involved the assumption that all compounds consist of two -portions, one electro-positive, the other electro-negative. -Thus sulphate of magnesium and potassium was to be regarded as -composed of electro-positive potassium sulphate in combination -with electro-negative magnesium sulphate; the former in its turn -consisted of electro-negative sulphur trioxide (SO3) in combination -with electro-positive oxide of potassium (K2O); while each of these -proximate constituents of potassium sulphate were themselves composed -of the electro-negative oxygen in combination with electro-positive -sulphur, or potassium. On contrasting sulphur with potassium, however, -the former was considered more electro-negative than the latter; so -that the group SO3 as a whole was electro-negative, while K2O was -electro-positive. The symbols given above, which are still in universal -use, were also devised by Berzelius for the purpose of illustrating and -emphasizing his views. These views, however, met with little acceptance -at the time in England. - -Lavoisier’s idea, that oxygen was the necessary constituent of all -acids, began about this time to lose ground. For Davy had proved the -elementary nature of chlorine; and hydrochloric acid, one of the -strongest, was thus seen to contain no oxygen, and Davy expressed the -view, founded on his observation, that iodic “acid,” I2O5, was devoid -of acid properties until dissolved in water, and that the essential -constituent of all acids was hydrogen, not oxygen. The bearing of this -theory on the dualistic theory is, that while, _e.g._, sulphuric acid -was regarded by Berzelius as SO3, containing no hydrogen, and was -supposed to be separated as such at the positive pole of a battery, -Davy’s suggestion led to the opposite conclusion that the formula -of sulphuric acid is H2SO4, and that by the current it is resolved -into H2 and SO4. Faraday’s electrolytic law, that when a current is -passed through electrolytes in solution the elements are liberated in -quantities proportional to their equivalents, led to the abandonment -of the dualistic theory. For when a current is passed in succession -through acidified water, fused lead chloride, and a solution of -potassium sulphate, the quantities of hydrogen and oxygen from the -water, of lead and chlorine from the lead chloride, and the potassium -of the sulphate are in accordance with Faraday’s law. But in addition -to the potassium there is liberated at the same pole an equivalent of -hydrogen. Now, if Berzelius’s theory be true, the products should be -SO3 and K2O, but if the opposite view be correct, then K2 is liberated -first and by its subsequent action on water it yields potash and -its equivalent of hydrogen. This was pointed out first by Daniell, -professor at King’s College, London, and it was regarded as a powerful -argument against Berzelius’s system. In 1833, too, Graham investigated -the phosphoric acids, and prepared the salts of three, to which he -gave the names, _ortho-_, _pyro-_, and _meta-_ phosphoric acids. To -understand the bearing of this on the doctrine of dualism it must be -remembered that P2O5, pentoxide of phosphorus, was at that date named -phosphoric acid. When dissolved in water it reacts with bases, forming -salts—the phosphates. But the quantity of water necessary was not then -considered essential; Graham, however, showed that there exist three -series of salts—one set derived from P2O5,3H2O, one from P2O5,2H2O, -and a third from P2O5,H2O. His way of stating the fact was that water -could play the part of a base; for example, the ordinary phosphate -of commerce possessed, according to him, the formula P2O5,2Na2O,H2O, -two-thirds of the “water of constitution” being replaced by oxide of -sodium. Liebig, then professor at Giessen (1803–1873), founded on these -and on similar observations of his own the doctrine of poly-basic -acids—acids in which one, two, three, or more atoms of hydrogen -were replaceable by metals. Thus, instead of writing, as Graham did, -P2O5,2Na2O,H2O, he wrote, PO4Na2H; and for orthophosphoric acid -PO4H3. The group of atoms (PO4), therefore, existed throughout the -whole series of orthophosphates, and could exist in combination with -hydrogen, with hydrogen and metals, or with metals alone. Similarly -the group (P2O7) was characteristic of pyrophosphates and (PO3) of -metaphosphates, for P2O5,2H2O=(P2O7)H4; and P2O5,H2O=2(PO3)H. - -The first clear ideas of the structure of the molecule were, however, -gained from the study of the compounds of carbon. It was difficult to -apply the dualistic theory to them. For few of them are electrolytes, -and therefore their products of electrolysis, being non-existent, -could not be classified. Nevertheless, Gay-Lussac regarded alcohol, -C2H6O, as a compound of C2H4, ethylene, and H2O, water; and oxalic -acid (anhydrous), C2O3, as one of CO2 with CO. The discovery of -“isomeric compounds,” _i.e._, of compounds which possess the same -ultimate formula and yet differ entirely in their properties, -forced upon chemists the necessity of attending to the structure of -the molecule; for only by such a supposition could the difference -between two isomeric bodies be explained. In 1823 Liebig discovered -that silver fulminate and silver cyanate both possessed the empirical -formula AgCNO; in 1825 this was followed by the discovery by Faraday -that oil gas contains a hydrocarbon identical in composition with -ethylene, C2H4, yet differing from it in properties; and in 1829 -Wöhler, professor in Göttingen (1800–1882), discovered that urea, a -constituent of urine, could be produced by heating ammonium cyanate, -NH4CNO, a substance of the same formula. It therefore became clear that -the identity of a compound must depend on some other cause than its -ultimate composition. - -In 1833 Liebig and Wöhler took an important step in elucidating this -question by their investigations on benzoic acid and acid obtainable -by distilling a resin named gum benzoin. They showed that this acid, -C7H6O2, could be conceived as consisting of the group C7H5O, to which -they gave the name “benzoyl,” in combination with OH; that benzoic -aldehyde, C7H6O, might be regarded as its compound with hydrogen; that -it also formed compounds with chlorine, and bromine, and sulphur, -and replaced hydrogen in ammonia (C7H6O,NH2). They termed this -group, benzoyl, a “compound element” or a “radical.” This research -was followed by one by Robert Bunsen, professor at Heidelberg, born -in 1811, and recently (1899) dead, which bore reference to cacodyl, -a compound of arsenic, carbon and hydrogen, in which the idea of a -radical was confirmed and amplified. - -The idea of a radical having thus become established, Jean Baptiste -Andrée Dumas, professor in Paris (1800–1884), propounded the theory -of “substitution,” _i.e._, that an element such as chlorine or oxygen -(which, be it noticed, is electro-negative on Berzelius’s scale) could -replace hydrogen in carbon compounds, atom for atom, the resulting -compound belonging to the same “type” as the one from which it was -derived. And Laurent, warden of the mint at Paris (1807–1853), and -Gerhardt, professor at Montpelier and at Strasburg (1816–1856), -emphasized the fact that one element, be it what it may, can replace -another without fundamentally altering its chemical character, and -also that an atom of hydrogen can be replaced by a group of atoms or -radical, behaving for the occasion like the atom of an element. It is -to Laurent and Gerhardt that we owe the definition of an atom—_the -smallest quantity of an element which can be present in a compound_; an -equivalent—_that weight of an element which combines with or replaces -one part by weight of hydrogen_; and a molecule—_the smallest quantity -which can exist in a free state, whether of an element or a compound_. -They recognized, too, that a molecule of hydrogen, chlorine, etc., -consists of two atoms. - -In 1849 Wurtz, professor in Paris (1817–1884), and Hofmann, then -professor in the College of Chemistry in London, afterwards at Berlin -(1818–1892), discovered a series of compounds allied to ammonia, NH3, -in which one or more atoms of hydrogen were replaced by a group or -radical, such as methyl (CH3), ethyl (C2H5), or phenyl (C6H5). Wurtz -referred such compounds to the ammonia “type.” They all resemble -ammonia in their physical properties—smell, taste, etc.—as well as -in their power of uniting with acids to form salts resembling ammonium -chloride (NH4Cl), and other ammonium compounds. Shortly afterwards -Williamson, professor at University College, London, added the “water -type,” in consequence of his researches on “mixed ethers”—bodies in -which the hydrogen of water might be regarded as replaced by organic -radicals. Thus we have the series: - -H. O. H.; CH3. O. H.; CH3. O. CH3; and NH3; NH2; H3; NH(CH3)2; and -N(CH3)3; the first representing compounds following the water type, -the latter the ammonia type. This suggestion had been previously made -by Laurent, in 1846. But Williamson extended his views to inorganic -compounds; thus, sulphuric acid was represented as constructed on the -double water type—HO. SO2. OH, being derived from H. O. (H. H) O. -H, the two hydrogen atoms enclosed in brackets being replaced by the -radical SO2. To these types Gerhardt added the hydrogen and hydrogen -chloride types, H.H. and H.Cl; and, later, Kekulé, professor in Bonn -(1829), added the marsh gas type C(H)4. The next important step was -taken by Frankland, professor in the Royal School of Mines, London; -his work, however, had been anticipated by Cunn Brown, professor at -Edinburgh University, in a pamphlet even yet little known. It was to -attribute to elements one or more powers of combination. To these -he gave the name “valency,” and the capacity of possessing valency -was called “quantivalence.” Thus hydrogen was taken as a “monad,” or -monovalent. Chlorine, because it unites with hydrogen atom to atom, -is also a monad. Oxygen, having the power to combine with two atoms -of hydrogen, was termed a dyad, or divalent; nitrogen a triad, or -trivalent; carbon a tetrad, or tetravalent, and so on. This is evident -from inspection of the formulas of their compounds with hydrogen, thus: - - H H H - / \ / - H——Cl; H——O——H; H——N ; C - \ / \ - H H H - -Instances of penta, hexa, and even hepta-valency are not wanting. - -This was the key to unlock the structure of chemical compounds; and -Frankland’s views, just stated, are still held by chemists. The -determination of the constitution of compounds, chiefly those of -carbon, occupied the attention of chemists, almost exclusively, until -1880. The plan of action is much the same as that of a mechanician who -wishes to imitate a complicated mechanism. He must first dissect it -into groups of mechanical contrivances; these are next constructed; and -they are finally built together into the complete machine. In certain -cases the atoms of carbon are arranged in “chains,” as, for example, in -pentyl alcohol: - - H3C——C——C——C——C——O——H - H2 H2 H2 H2 - -each atom being tetrad, and its “affinities,” or powers of combination, -saturated either with hydrogen or with those of neighboring atoms of -carbon; in others they are in the form of a “ring,” as in benzene, the -formula of which was first suggested by Kekulé, viz.: - - H H - C——C - / \ - HC CH; - \ / - C==C - H H - -or in both, as in ethyl benzene, - - H H - C——C - / \ H H - HC C——C——CH. - \ / H H - C==C - H H - -One or more atoms of nitrogen, or of oxygen, may form part of the -circle, as in pyridine: - - H H H H - C——C C C - / \ / - N CH and furfurane, O == , - \ / \ - C==C C C - H H H H - -and so on. By means of conceptions such as these many interesting -compounds have been built up out of the elements which they contain; -_e.g._, urea and uric acid, constituents of urine; theobromine and -caffeine, the essential principles of cocoa and tea; alizarine and -indigo, valuable dyestuffs; and several of the alkaloids, bitter -principles contained in plants, of great medicinal value. - -They have led, too, to the discovery of many brilliant colors, now -almost universally employed, to the exclusion of those less brilliant, -because less pure, derived from plants, and in one or two cases -from animals; the manufacture of gun-cotton, dynamite, and similar -high explosives; and to the development of the candle industry; the -sugar manufacture; to improvement in tanning, in brewing, and in the -preparation of gas and oils for illuminating purposes. In short, it may -be said that the industrial progress of the latter half of the century -has been due to the theoretical views of which a short sketch has just -been given. - -Such formulas, however, can evidently not represent the true -constitution of matter, inasmuch as the atoms are imagined to lie -on a plane, whereas it is evident that they must occupy space -of three dimensions and possess the attributes of solidity. The -conception which led to the formulation of such views was due first -to Pasteur, in his later years director of the institute known by -his name at Paris, and more directly to LeBel and Van’t Hoff, now -professor at Berlin, independently of each other. In 1848 Pasteur -discovered that it was possible to separate the two varieties of -tartaric acid from each other; and that that one which rotated the -plane of polarized light to the right gave crystals with an extra -face, unsymmetrically disposed with regard to the other faces of the -crystal. The variety, the solution of which in water was capable of -producing left-handed rotation, also possessed a similar face, but so -placed that its reflection in a mirror reproduced the right-handed -variety. Pasteur also showed that a mixture of these acids gave -crystals not characterized by an unsymmetrically placed face; and -also that the solution was without action on polarized light. These -observations remained unexplained, until LeBel and Van’t Hoff, in -1874, simultaneously and independently devised a theory which has, -up till now, stood the test of research. It is briefly this: Imagine -two regular tetrahedra, or three-sided pyramids, standing each on its -triangular base. An idea can best be got by a model, easily made by -laying on a table three lucifer matches so as to form an equilateral -triangle, and erecting a tripod with three other matches, so that -each leg of the tripod stands on one corner of the triangle. At the -centre of such a tetrahedron, an atom of carbon is supposed to be -placed. Marsh gas, CH4, is supposed to have such a structure, each -corner, or solid angle of the structure (of which there are four), -being occupied by an atom of hydrogen. This represents the solid or -_stereochemical_ formula of methane or marsh gas. Now, suppose one of -the atoms of hydrogen in each of these structures to be replaced by -chlorine, the group (OH), or any other monovalent element or group. It -is evident that if not exactly similar (owing to the replacement not -having been made at similar corners in each), the two structures can be -made similar by turning one of them round, until the position of the -substituting atom or group (which we will term X) coincides in position -with X in the stationary one. If two such replacements be made, say, -with X and Y in each, coincidence can again be made to take place; but -the same is not the case if X, Y, and Z replace three atoms of hydrogen -in the structure; for there is one way of replacement which is the -optical image of the other, and represents the other’s reflection in a -mirror. - -[Illustration: (Tetrahedron XYZ) and (Tetrahedron XZY)] - -Now, it is found that when the four corners of such a structure are -occupied by four separate atoms or groups, or when (as the expression -goes) the body contains an “asymmetrical carbon atom,” if the substance -or one of its derivations can be obtained in a crystalline form, the -crystals are also asymmetric, _i.e._, arc develops a face which is the -mirror-reflection of a similar face developed on the other variety; -and if a beam of polarized light be passed through the solution of -the substance, its plane is rotated to the left if one variety be -used, and, if the other, to the right. This hypothesis of LeBel’s -and Van’t Hoff’s has had an enormous influence on the progress of -organic chemistry. By its means Fischer, now professor at Berlin, has -explained the reason of the existence of the enormous number of bodies -analogous to grape and cane sugar, and has prepared many new varieties; -and it appears likely that the terpenes, a class of bodies allied to -turpentine, and comprising most of the substances to which the odor of -flowers is due, may thereby find their explanation. It may be mentioned -in passing that Pasteur, having found that ordinary mould destroyed -one variety of tartaric acid rather than the other in a mixture of -the two, and made use of this observation in order to prepare the -unattached variety in a state of purity, was led to study the action -of organisms more or less resembling mould; and that this has led -to the development of the science of bacteriology, which has had an -enormous influence on our views regarding fermentation in general, -and guides the work of our physicians, our surgeons (witness Lister’s -antiseptic treatment), our sanitary engineers in their estimate of -the purity of drinking-water and of the disposal of sewage, of our -manufacturers of beer and spirits, of wine-growers, and more recently -of farmers. All these processes depend upon the action of organisms -in producing chemical changes, whether in the tissues of the body, -causing or curing disease, or in the production of flavored alcohol -from sugar, or in the manufacture of butter and cheese, or in preparing -the land for the reception of crops. We also owe to the genius of -Van’t Hoff the most important advance of recent times in the region -of physical chemistry. It has been observed by Raoult, professor at -Grenoble, that the freezing-point of a solvent as a general rule is -lowered to the same extent if there be dissolved in it quantities of -substances proportional to their molecular weights. Thus, supposing -1.80 grams of grape-sugar be dissolved in 100 grams of water and the -solution cooled below 0° with constant stirring, ice separates suddenly -in thin spicules, and the temperature rises to −0.185°. If 3.42 grams -of cane-sugar be similarly dissolved in 100 grams of water, the -freezing-point of the solution is again −0.185°. Now, 1.80 and 3.42 are -respectively the hundredth part of the molecular weights of grape-sugar -(C6H12O6) and cane-sugar (C12H22O11). Similarly, Raoult found that -quantities proportional to molecular weights dissolved in a solvent -depress the vapor pressure of that solvent equally, or, what comes to -the same thing, raise its boiling-point by an equal number of degrees. -But ordinary salts, such as sodium chloride, potassium nitrate, etc., -dissolved in water, give too great a depression of the freezing-point -and too high a boiling-point. Next, it has been observed by botanists, -Devries, Pfeffer, and others, who had examined the ascent of sap in -plants, that if a vessel of unglazed porcelain, so treated as to cause -a film of cupric ferrocyanide (a slimy red compound) to deposit in the -pores of its walls, be filled with a weak (about 1 per cent.) solution -of sugar or similar substance, and plunged in a vessel of pure water, -water entered through the pores. By attaching a monometer to the porous -vessel the pressure exerted by the entering water could be measured. -Such pressure was termed “osmotic pressure,” referring to the “osmosis” -or passage through the walls of the vessel. Such prepared walls are -permeable freely to water, but not to sugar or similar bodies. Van’t -Hoff pointed out that the total pressure registered is proportional to -the amount of substance in solution, and that it is proportional to -the absolute temperature, and he showed, besides, that the pressure -exerted by the sugar molecules is the same as that which would be -exerted at the same temperature were an equal number of molecules of -hydrogen to occupy the same volume as the sugar solution. This may -be expressed by stating that when in dilute solution sugar molecules -behave _as if_ they were present in the gaseous state. Here again, -however, it was noticed that salts tended to give a higher pressure; it -was difficult to construct a semi-permeable diaphragm, however, which -would resist the passage of salt molecules, while allowing those of -water to pass freely. Lastly, Arrhenius, of Stockholm, had shown that -the conductivity of salt solutions for electricity may be explained on -the assumption that when a salt, such as KNO3 is dissolved in water, -it dissociates into portions similar in number and kind to those it -would yield if electrolyzed (and if no secondary reactions were to -take place). Such portions (K and NO3, for example) had been named -ions by Faraday. The conductivity of such solutions becomes greater, -per unit of dissolved salt, the weaker the solution, until finally a -limit is reached, after which further dilution no longer increases -conductivity. Now Van’t Hoff united all these isolated observations -and showed their bearing on each other. Stated shortly, the hypothesis -is as follows: When a substance is dissolved in a large quantity of -a solvent, its molecules are separated from each other to a distance -comparable with that which obtains in gases. They are, therefore, -capable of independent action; and when placed in a vessel the walls of -which are permeable to the solvent, but not to the dissolved substance -(“semi-permeable membrane”), the imprisoned molecules of the latter -exert pressure on the interior surface of these walls as if they -were gaseous. Van’t Hoff showed the intimate connection between this -phenomenon and the depression of freezing-point and the use of vapor -pressure already alluded to. He pointed out further that the exceptions -to this behavior, noticed in the case of dissolved salts, are due to -their “electric dissociation,” or “ionization,” as it is now termed; -and that in a sufficiently dilute solution of potassium nitrate, -for example, the osmotic pressure, and the correlated depression of -freezing-point and rise of boiling-point, are practically equal to what -would be produced were the salt to be split into its ions, K and NO3. -These views were vigorously advocated by Ostwald, professor at Leipzig, -in his _Zeitschrift für physikalische Chemie_, and he and his pupils -have done much to gather together facts in confirmation of this theory, -and in extending its scope. - -It must be understood that the ions K and NO3 are not, strictly -speaking, atoms; they are _charged_ atoms; the K retains a +, and the -NO3 a − charge. On immersing into the solution the poles of a battery, -one charged + and the other −, the + K atoms are attracted to the − -pole, and are there discharged; as soon as they lose their charge they -are free to act on the water, when they liberate their equivalent of -hydrogen. Similarly, the − NO3 groups are discharged at the + pole, and -abstract hydrogen from the water, liberating an equivalent quantity -of oxygen. Thus the phenomenon of electrolysis, so long a mysterious -process, finds a simple explanation. The course of ordinary chemical -reactions is also readily realized when viewed in the light of this -theory. Take, for example, the ordinary equation: - - AgNO3.Aq + NaCl.Ag = AgCl + NaNO3.Aq; - -_i.e._, solutions of silver nitrate and sodium chloride give a -precipitate of silver chloride, leaving sodium nitrate in solution. By -the new views, such an equation must be written: - - + − + − + − - Ag.Aq + NO3.Aq + Na.Aq + Cl.Aq = AgCl + Na.Aq + NO3.Aq. - -The compound, silver chloride, being insoluble in water, is formed -by the union of the ions Ag and Cl, and their consequent discharge, -forming an electrically neutral compound; while the sodium ions, -charged positively together with the NO3 ions, negatively charged, -remain in solution. - -One more application of the principle may be given. Many -observers—Andrews, Favre, and Silbermann, but especially Julius -Thomsen, of Copenhagen, and M. Berthelot, of Paris—have devoted much -labor and time to the measurement of the heat evolved during chemical -reactions. Now, while very different amounts of heat are evolved when -chlorine, bromine, or iodine combine respectively with sodium or -potassium, the number of heat units evolved on neutralizing sodium -or potassium hydroxide with hydrochloric, hydrobromic, hydriodic, or -nitric acids is always about 13,500. How can this fact be explained? It -finds its explanation as follows: These acids and bases are ionized in -solution as shown in the equation: - - + − + − + − - H.Aq + Cl.Aq. + Na.Aq + OH.Aq = H.OH + Na.Aq + Cl.Aq. - -Water is the only compound formed; and it is produced by the union -of the hydrogen-ion originally belonging to the acid, and the OH or -hydroxyl-ion originally belonging to the base. No further change has -occurred; hence the uniform evolution of heat by the interaction of -equivalent quantities of these acids and bases. - -It now remains to give a short account of the greatest generalization -which has as yet been made in chemistry. It has been termed the -“Periodic Arrangement of the Elements.” - -In 1864 Newlands, of London, and Lothar Meyer, late of Tübingen, found -that by arranging the elements in the order of their atomic weights -certain regularities were to be observed between each element, and -in general the eighth in succession from it, in the order of their -numerical value. Such similar elements formed groups or quantities; -while the elements separating them belong to a _period_, hence the name -“periodic arrangement.” Commencing with lithium, a light, lustrous -metal found in silicate in certain minerals, we have the following -series: - - Lithium Beryllium Boron Carbon Nitrogen Oxygen Fluorine Neon - 7 9.2 11 12 14 16 19 20 - - Sodium Magnesium Aluminum Silicon Phosphorus Sulphur Chlorine Argon - 23 24.3 27 28 31 34 35.5 40 - -and so on. It is unnecessary to point out in detail the resemblances -between the elements which stand in the vertical columns; but it -may be stated that the resemblance extends also to the formulas and -properties of their compounds. Thus the chlorides of lithium and sodium -are each white soluble salts, of the formulas LiCl and NaCl; oxides of -magnesium and of beryllium are both insoluble white earthy powders, -MgO and BeO (GeO), and so on. Newlands, in his preliminary sketch, -termed this order the “Law of Octaves,” and predicted the existence of -certain undiscovered elements which should occupy unfilled positions in -the table. Mendeléef, professor at St. Petersburg, in 1869 amplified -and extended these relations; and he and Meyer pointed out that the -volume occupied by equal numbers of atoms of such elements underwent -a periodic variation when the elements are classified as above. -The prediction of undiscovered elements was made by Mendeléef in a -more assured manner; and in several cases they have been realized. -Thus what Mendeléef called “ekaboron” has since been discovered by -Lecoq de Boisbandron and named, patriotically, “gallium”; Mendeléef’s -“eka-silicon” is now known as “germanium,” discovered by Winkler; and -“eka-aluminum” is now Cléve’s “scandium.” Moreover, the atomic weights -of cæsium, beryllium, molybdenium, and mercury have been altered so -that they fit the periodic table; and further research has justified -the alteration. - -The valency of these elements increases from right to left, as will be -seen by inspection of the following series: - - LiCl BeCl3 BCl3 CCl4 NH4Cl - Na2O MgO B2O3 SiO2 PCl3 - Monad. Dyad. Triad. Tetrad. Triad and Pentad. - - OH2 FH Ne—— - SO3 Cl(OH)O3 A—— - Dyad and Hexad. Monad and Heptad. No valency. - -The elements of no valency are of recent discovery. In 1894 Lord -Rayleigh had determined the density of the nitrogen of the atmosphere, -having separated from it the oxygen and carbon dioxide which is mixed -with nitrogen in air. He found it to be of somewhat higher density -than that obtainable from ammonia and other compounds of nitrogen. -In conjunction with Ramsay he investigated atmospheric nitrogen; it -was absorbed either by a method devised by Cavendish, or by making it -combine with magnesium at a red heat. They found that the unabsorbable -residue possessed an unknown spectrum, and that its density was nearly -20. To this new gas they gave the name “argon,” or inactive, seeing -that all attempts to cause it to enter into combination had failed. -In 1895 Ramsay, searching for possible combinations of argon in -minerals, experimented with one which had been previously examined by -Hillebrand, of Baltimore, and obtained from it helium, a gas of density -2, possessing a spectrum which had been previously discovered in 1868 -in the chromosphere of the sun, by Jannsen, of Paris, and named helium -by Frankland and Lockyer. Subsequent liquefaction of crude argon by -means of liquid air, prepared by a process invented simultaneously by -Linde and Hampson, gave a residue which was named by its discoverers, -Ramsay and Travers, “neon.” Liquid argon has yielded two other gases -also, “krypon” and “xenon.” These elements form a separate group in the -Periodic Table, commencing with helium, with atomic weight, 4; neon, -20; argon, 40; krypon, 82; and xenon, 128. They all agree in being -mono-atomic, _i.e._, their molecules consist of single atoms; and they -have no tendency to form compounds, _i.e_., they possess no valency. - -In this sketch of the progress of chemistry during the century which -has just passed, attention has been paid chiefly to the progress -of thought. Allusions must, however, be made to the applications -of chemistry to industrial purposes. The development of the soda -industry, the preparation of carbonate of soda and caustic from common -salt—initiated in France by LeBlanc (1742–1806)—has been developed -by Tennant, in Scotland, and Muspeath and Gossage, and by Hargreaves, -Weldon, and Maetea, in England; this process has at present a serious -rival in the ammonia-soda process, developed by Solway, in Belgium, -and by Brunner and Mond, in England. The main action of sulphuric -acid, so long associated with the alkali process, has made enormous -strides during the present century, but is still, in the main, the -original process of causing sulphur dioxide in presence of water to -absorb the oxygen of the air through nitric oxide. But the saving of -the oxides of nitrogen through the invention of a sulphuric acid power -by Gay-Lussac, known by his name, and the re-utilization of these -oxides in the “Glover” power, invented by John Glover, of Newcastle, -have greatly lessened the cost of the acid. Concentration of the acid -in iron vessels is now common, the cost of platinum or of fragile -glass vessels being thereby saved. The desulphurization of iron and -the removal of silicon, carbon, and phosphorus by Bessemer’s process, -modified by Thomas and Gilchrist through the introduction of a “basic -magnesia lining” for the convertors, has made it possible to obtain -pure iron and steel from ores previously regarded as of little value. - -The use of artificial manures, prepared by mixing refuse animal -matters with tetra-hydrogen, calcium phosphate, and nitrate of soda, -or sulphate of ammonia, first introduced by Liebig, has created -a revolution in agricultural methods and in the weight of crops -obtainable from a given area of soil. The influence of manures on -crops has been fully studied by Lawes and Gilbert for more than fifty -years in their experimental farm at Rothampstead. The most remarkable -advances which have been made, however, are due to cheap electric -current. The electrolysis of alumina, dissolved in fused cryolite to -obtain aluminum, an operation carried out at Schaffhausen-on-the-Rhine, -and at the Falls of Foyers, in Scotland; the electro-deposition of pure -copper for electric wires and cables, electro-silvering, gilding, and -nickelling, all these are instances where decomposition of a compound -by the electric current has led to important industrial results. At -present soda and chlorine are being manufactured by the electrolysis -of salt solution contained in rocking trays, one of the electrodes -being mercury, by the Castner-Kellner process. This manufacture is -being carried on at Niagara, as well as in England. But electricity -as a heating agent finds ever-extending application. Louis Moisson, -professor at Paris, led the way by utilizing the enormous heat of -the ore in his electric furnace, thereby, among other interesting -reactions, manufacturing diamonds, small, it is true, though none the -less real. The use of electricity as a heating agent has received -new applications. Phosphorus is now made by distilling a mixture of -phosphates of lime and alumina with coke; a new polishing agent has -been found in “carborundum,” a compound of carbon and silicon, produced -by heating in an electric furnace a mixture of sand and coke; and -cyanide of potassium, almost indispensable for the extraction of gold -from ores poor in gold, is now manufactured by heating a mixture of -carbon and carbonate of barium in an electric furnace in a current -of carbon monoxide. These are but some of the instances in which -electricity has been adopted as an agent in effecting chemical changes; -and it may be confidently predicted that the earlier years of the -twentieth century will witness a great development in this direction. -It may be pointed out that the later developments of industrial -chemistry owe their success entirely to the growth of chemical theory; -and it is obvious that that nation which possesses the most competent -chemists, theoretical and practical, is destined to succeed in the -competition with other nations for commercial supremacy and all its -concomitant advantages. - - WILLIAM RAMSAY. - - - - -ARCHÆOLOGY - - -To write of the progress of archæology in this century is scarcely -possible, as the idea of the subject was unknown a hundred years ago; -it is, therefore, the whole history of its opening and development -that we have to deal with. The conception of the history of man being -preserved to us in material facts, and not only in written words, was -quite disregarded until the growth of geology had taught men to read -nature for themselves, instead of trusting to the interpretations -formed by their ancestors. Even down to the present the academic view -is that classical archæology is more important than other branches, -because it serves to illustrate classical literature. Looked at as -archæology, it is, on the contrary, the least important branch, because -we already know so much more of the classical ages than we do of others. - -It is only within the present generation that it has been realized that -wherever man has lived he has left the traces of his action, and that -a systematic and observant study of those remains will interpret to us -what his life was, what his abilities and tastes were, and the extent -and nature of his mind. Literature is but one branch of the archæology -of the higher races; another—equally important for the understanding -of man—is art; these two give the highest and most complex and -characteristic view of the nature of a race. At the opposite end of the -scale are the rudest stone weapons which remain as the sole traces of -the savages who used them. These highest and lowest evidences of mind, -and all that lies between them, are the domain of archæology. - -We now purpose to review the growth of archæology in contact with -geology, where it concerns man as the last of the links of life on the -globe; and then to notice the archæology of each country in turn, as -it leads on to the times of historical record, and so passes down to -modern times. - -A century ago the world of thought was divided between the old and new -ideas very differently from what is now the case. Then there stood on -one side the idea of a special creation of an individual man, at 4000 -B. C.; the compression of all human history into a prehistoric age -of about three thousand years, and a fairly logical solution of most -of the difficulties of understanding in a comfortable teleology. On -the other hand stood many who felt the inherent improbability of such -solutions of the problem of life, and who were feeling their way to -some more workable theory on the basis of Laplace, Lamarck, Erasmus -Darwin, and others; vaguely mingling together questions of physics, -geology, archæology, anthropology, and theology, each of which we -now see must be treated on its own basis, and be decided on internal -evidence, before we can venture to let it affect our judgment on other -points. - -The great new force which thrust itself in to divide and decide on -these questions is the scientific study of man and his works. Strangely -shaped flints had been noticed, but no one had any knowledge of their -age. One such, when found with the bones of a mammoth, was attributed -to the Roman age, because no person could have brought elephants into -Britain except some Roman general. The argument was excellent and -irrefutable until geology found plenty more remains of the mammoth and -showed that it was here long before the Romans. It was less than half -a century ago that our eyes began to open to the abundant remains of -flint-using man. Then a single rude stone weapon was an unexplained -curiosity; now an active collector will put together his tens of -thousands of specimens, will know exactly where they were found, their -relation of age and of purpose, and their bearing on the history of man. - -Not only have worked flint implements been found in the river gravels -of France and England, where they were first noticed in the middle of -this century, but also in most parts of Europe, in Egypt on the high -desert, in Somaliland, at the Cape of Good Hope, in India, America, and -other countries; and the most striking feature is the exact similarity -in form wherever they have been found. So precisely do the same types -recur, so impossible would it be to say from its form whether a flint -had been found in Europe, Asia, or Africa, that it appears as if the -art of working had spread from some single centre over the rest of the -world. This is especially the case with the river-gravel flints—the -earlier class—usually called Paleolithic. Soon after the general -division had been made between polished stone-work of the later or -Neolithic times, found on the surface, and the rough chipped work of -the earlier or Paleolithic times, found in geological deposits, a -further sub-division was made by separating the Paleolithic age into -that of the river gravels and that of the cave-dwellers. The latter has -again been divided into three classes by French writers, named, from -their localities, _Mousterien_, _Solutrien_, _Magdalenien_; and, though -these classes may be much influenced by locality, they probably have -some difference of age between them. - -And now within the last few years a still earlier kind of workmanship -has been recognized in flints found in England on the high hills in -Kent. Though at first much disputed, the human origin of the forms is -now generally acknowledged, and they show a far ruder ability than -even the most massive of the Paleolithic forms. The position also of -these flints, in river deposits lying on the highest hills some six -hundred feet above the present rivers, shows that the whole of the -valleys has been excavated since they were deposited, and implies a far -greater age than any of the gravel beds of the Paleolithic ages. - -We, therefore, have passed now at the beginning of this century to -a far wider view of man’s history, and classify his earlier ages in -Europe thus: - - First—Eolithic: Rudest massive flints from deposits 600 feet up. - - Second—Paleolithic: Massive flints from gravels 200 feet up and - less (Achuleen). - - Third—Paleolithic—Cave-dwellers: Flints like the preceding and - flakes (Mousterien). - - Fourth—Paleolithic—Cave-dwellers: Flints well worked and finely - shaped (Solutrien). - - Fifth—Paleolithic—Cave-dwellers: Abundant bone working and - drawing (Magdalenien). - - Sixth—Neolithic: Polished flint working, pastoral and - agricultural man. - -What time these periods cover nothing yet proves. The date of 4000 -B. C. for man’s appearance, with which belief the nineteenth century -started, has been pushed back by one discovery after another. Estimates -of from 10,000 to 200,000 years have been given from various possible -clews. In Egypt an exposure of 7000 years or more only gives a faint -brown tint to flints lying side by side with Paleolithic flints that -are black with age. I incline to think that 100,000 years B. C. for the -rise of the second class, and 10,000 B. C. for the rise of the sixth -class will be a moderate estimate. - -Passing now from Paleolithic man of the latest geological times whose -works lie under the deposit of ages, to Neolithic man of surface -history whose polished stone tools lie on the ground, we find also how -greatly views have changed. For ages past metal-using man has looked -on the beautifully polished or chipped weapons of his forefathers as -“thunderbolts,” possessing magic powers, and he often mounted the -smaller ones to wear as charms. At the beginning of this century -well-finished stone weapons were only preserved as curiosities which -might belong to some remote age, but without any definite ideas about -them. The recognition of long ages of earlier unpolished stone work has -now put these more elaborate specimens to a comparatively late period, -and yet they are probably older than the date to which our forefathers -placed the creation of man. - -The beginning of a more intelligent knowledge of such things was laid -by the systematic excavations of the burial mounds scattered over the -south of England, which was done in the early part of this century by -Sir Richard Colt Hoare. A solid basis of facts was laid, which began -to supersede the romances woven by Stukeley and others in the last -century. Gradually more exact methods of search were introduced, and in -the last thirty years Canon Greenwell has done much, and General Pitt -Rivers has established a standard of accurate and complete work with -perfect recording, which is the highest development of archæological -study. These and other researches have opened up the life of Neolithic -man to us, and we see that he was much as modern man, if compared -with the earlier stage of man as a hunter. The Neolithic man made -pottery, spun and wove linen, constructed enormous earthworks both for -defence and for burial, and systematically made his tools of the best -material he could obtain by combined labor in mining. The extensive -flint-mines in chalk districts of England show long-continued labor; -and the perfect form and splendid finish of many of the stone weapons -show that skilled leisure could be devoted to them, and that æsthetic -taste had been developed. The large camps prove that a thorough tribal -organization prevailed, though probably confined to small clans. - -About the middle of the century a new type of dwelling began to be -explored—the lake dwelling; this system of building towns upon piles -in lakes had the great advantage of protection from enemies and wild -beasts, and a constant supply of food in the fish that could be hooked -from the water below. Though such settlements were first found in the -Swiss lakes, and explored there by Keller, they have since been found -in France, Hungary, Italy, Holland, and the British Isles. The earlier -settlements of this form belong to the Neolithic age, but only in -central Europe. In these earliest lake dwellings weaving was known, -and the cultivation of flax, grapes, and other fruit and corn; while -the usual domestic animals were kept and cattle were yoked to the -plough; pottery was abundant, and was often ornamented with geometric -patterns. The type of man was round-headed. Following the Neolithic -lake dwellings came those of the Bronze age, and as the bronze objects -are similar to those found in other kinds of dwellings we shall notice -them in the Bronze age in general. The type of man was longer-headed -than in the earlier lake settlement. The domestication of animals shows -an advance; the horse was common, and the dog, ox, pig, and sheep were -greatly improved. Pottery was better made and elaborately decorated, -often with strips of tin-foil. - -The Bronze age marks a great step in man’s history. In many countries -the use of copper, hardened by arsenic or oxide, was common for long -before the alloy of copper and tin was used. In other countries, -where the use of metals was imported, copper only appears as a native -imitation of the imported bronze. Hence there is a true age of copper -in lands where the use of metals has grown. It must by no means be -supposed that copper excluded the use of flint; it was not until bronze -became common that flint was disused. The existence of a Bronze age -was first formulated, as distinct from a Stone age, about seventy years -ago; and the existence of a Copper age has been much disputed in the -last thirty years, but has only been proved clearly ten years ago, in -Egypt. - -In the eighteenth century the bronze weapons found in England were -attributed to the Romans by some writers, though others, with more -reason, argued that they were British. In the first year of the -century began the comparative study of such weapons with reference to -modern savage products. The development of the metal forms from stone -prototypes was pointed out in 1816; the tracing out of the succession -of the forms and the modes of use appeared in 1847. Further study -cleared up the details, and within the last twenty years the full -knowledge of the Bronze age in other countries has left no question as -to the general facts of the sequence of its history. In each type of -tool and weapon there appears first a very simple form imitated from -the stone implements which were earlier used. Gradually the facilities -given by the casting and toughness of the metal were used, and the -forms were modified; ornamentation was added, and thin work in embossed -patterns gave the stiffness and strength which had been attained before -by massive forms. The general types are the axe—first a plain slip of -metal, later developed with a socket; then the chisel, gouge, sickle, -knife, dagger, sword, spear, and shield; personal objects, as pins, -necklets, bracelets, ear-rings, buttons, buckles, and domestic caldrons -and cups. Most of these forms were found together, all worn out and -broken, in the great bronze-founder’s hoard at Bologna. - -Lastly in the prehistory of Europe comes the Iron age, which so much -belongs to the historical period that we can best consider it in -noticing separate countries. - -From the recent discoveries in Egypt we can gain some idea of the date -of these periods. We ventured to assign about 10,000 B. C. for the rise -of the Neolithic or polished-stone period (it may very possibly be -earlier); the beginning of the use of copper may be placed about 5000 -B. C.; the beginning of bronze was perhaps 3000 or 2000 B. C., as its -free use in Egypt is not till 1600 B. C.; and the use of iron beginning -about 1000 B. C., probably in Armenia, spreading thence through Europe -until it reached Italy, perhaps 700 years B. C., and Britain about 400 -B. C. Such is the briefest outline of the greater part of the history -of man, massed together in one general term of “prehistoric,” before we -reach the little fringe of history nearest to our own age. The whole of -this knowledge results from the work of the century. - -We now turn to the historical ages of each of the principal countries, -to review what advance has been made even where a basis of written -record has come down to us, equally accessible in all recent times. - - -EGYPT - -At the beginning of the century Egypt was a land of untouched and -inexplicable mystery; the hieroglyphics were wondered at, and puzzled -over, without any idea of how they were to be read, whether as symbols -or as letters. The history was entirely derived from the confused -accounts of Greek authors, the lists remaining of Manetho’s history, -written about 260 B. C., and the allusions in the Bible. The attempt to -make everything fit to the ideas of the Greeks, and to make everything -refer to the Biblical history, greatly retarded the understanding of -the monuments, and is scarcely overcome yet. The first great step -forward was when an inscription was found at Rosetta, in 1799, written -in two methods, the monumental hieroglyphic and the popular demotic, -along with a Greek version. By 1802 some groups of each writing had -been translated. Young identified more signs, and Gell, by 1822, could -successfully apportion three-quarters of the signs to the Greek words. -The next step was to apply the modern Coptic language, descended from -the ancient Egyptian, to the reading of the words. Gell had been doing -so, but it needed a student of Coptic—Champollion—to carry this out -thoroughly, as he did in 1821–32. Since then advance in reading has -been only a matter of detail, not requiring any new principles. - -The knowledge of the art began with the admiration for the debased work -of Roman times, the principal interest at the beginning of the century. -Then the excavations among the Rameside monuments at Thebes, about -1820–30, took attention back to the age of 1500–1000 B. C. The work of -Lepsius, and later of Mariette, from 1840–80, opened men’s eyes to the -splendid work of the early dynasties, about 4000–3000 B. C. And lastly -the excavations of 1893–99 have fascinated scholars by a view of the -rise of the civilization and the prehistoric period before 5000 B. C. - -Throughout the greater part of the century the archæology of Egypt lay -untouched; all attention was given to the language; and even Gardner -Wilkinson’s fine view of the civilization (1837) depended largely on -Greek authors, and had no perspective of history in tracing changes and -development. It is only in the last ten or fifteen years that any exact -knowledge has been acquired about the rise and progress of the various -arts of life; this study now enables us to date the sculpture, metal -work, pottery, and other art products as exactly as we can those of the -Middle Ages. - -The view that we now have of the rise and decay of this great -civilization and its connection with other lands is more complete and -far-reaching than that of any other country. In the early undated -age, before the monarchy which began about 4800 B. C., a flourishing -civilization was spread over upper Egypt. Towns were built of brick, -as in later times; clothing was made of woven linen and of leather; -pottery was most skilfully formed, without the potter’s wheel, -hand-made, yet of exquisite regularity and beauty of outline, while the -variety of form is perhaps greater than in any other land; stone vases -were made entirely by hand, without a lathe, as perfect in form as the -pottery, and of the hardest rocks, as diorite and granite; wood was -carved for furniture; the art of colored glazing was common, and was -even applied to glazing over large carvings in rock crystal; ornaments -and beads were wrought of various stones and precious metals; ivory -combs with carved figures adorned the hair; ivory spoons were used -at the table; finely formed weapons and tools of copper served where -strength was needful, while more useful were flint knives and lances -which were wrought with a miraculous finish that has never been reached -by any other people; and games were played with dainty pieces made of -hard stone and of ivory. But all this tasteful skill of 6000–5000 B. C. -had its negative side; in the artistic copying of nature the mechanical -skill of these people carried them a very little way; their figures and -heads of men and animals are strangely crude. And they had no system -of writing, although marks were commonly used. They always buried the -body doubled up, and often preserved the head and hands separately. -Commerce was already active, and large rowing-galleys carried the wares -of different countries around the Mediterranean. These people were the -same as the modern Kabyle, of Algeria, and akin to the South European -races, but with some negro admixture. Our whole knowledge of this age -has only been gained within the last five years. - -At about 5000 B. C. there poured into Egypt a very different people, -probably from the Red Sea. Having far more artistic taste, a commoner -use of metals, a system of writing already begun, and a more organized -government, these fresh people started a new civilization in Egypt; -adopting readily the art and skill of the earlier race, they formed by -their union the peculiar culture known as Egyptian, a type which lasted -for four thousand years. The same foundation of a type is seen in the -bodily structure; the early historical people had wider heads and more -slender noses than the prehistoric, but from 4000 B. C. down to Roman -times the form shows no change. - -From this union of two able races came one of the finest peoples ever -seen, the Egyptians of the old kingdom, 4500—3500 B. C. Full of grand -conceptions, active, able, highly mechanical, and yet splendid artists, -they have left behind them the greatest masses of building, the most -accurate workmanship and exquisite sculptures in the grand pyramids -and tombs of their cemeteries. They perfected the art of organizing -combined labor on the immense public works. In all these respects -no later age or country has advanced beyond this early ability. The -moral character and ideas are preserved to us in the writings of these -people; and we there read of the ability, reserve, steadfastness, and -kindliness which we see reflected in the lifelike portraiture of that -age. - -After a partial decay about 3000 B. C. this civilization blossomed out -again nobly in the twelfth dynasty about 2600 B. C.; though the works -of this age hardly reach the high level of the earlier times, yet they -are finer than anything that followed them. At this period more contact -with other countries is seen; both Syria and the Mediterranean were -known, though imperfectly. - -To this succeeded another decadence, sealed by the disaster of the -foreign invasion of the Hyksos. But this was thrown off by the rise of -a third age of brilliance—the eighteenth dynasty, 1500 B. C.—which, -though inferior to early times in its highest work, yet shines by the -widespread of art and luxury throughout the upper classes. Magnificence -became fashionable, and the lower classes contented themselves with -most barefaced imitations of costly wares. Foreign islands came -closely in contact with Egypt. The ships of the Syrian coast and -Cyprus continually traded to and fro, exchanging silver, copper, and -precious stones for the gold of Egypt. Greece also traded its fine -pottery of the Mycenæan age for the showy necklaces of gold and the -rings and amulets with names of Pharaohs. Egypt then dominated the -shores of the western Mediterranean, the plains of the Euphrates, and -the fertile Soudan. But this power and wealth led to disaster. Like -Rome, later on, she could not resist the temptation to live on plunder; -heavy tribute of corn was exacted, large numbers were employed in -unproductive labor, and national disaster was the natural consequence. -Egypt never recovered the dominion or the splendor that were hers in -this age. Of this period some slight notions are given us from literary -remains in the Bible and Greek authors; but archæology is, so far, our -only practical guide, as in the earlier ages. The great temples and -monuments of the eighteenth-twentieth dynasties (1600–1100 B. C.) bear -hundreds of historical inscriptions, the tombs are covered with scenes -of private life, the burials and the ruins of towns furnish us with all -the objects of daily use. This age is one of the fullest and richest -in all history, and hardly any other is better known even in Greece or -Italy. Yet all this has been brought to light in the century, and the -knowledge of the foreign relations of Egypt is entirely the result of -the last fifteen years. - -The final thousand years of the civilization of Egypt is checkered -with many changes; sometimes independent, as in the ages of Shishak -of Necho, and of the Ptolemies; at other times a prey to Ethiopians, -Persians, Greeks, or Romans. Its arts and crafts show a constant decay, -and there was but little left to resist the influence of Greek taste -and design, which ran a debased course in the country. There was, -however, a spread of manufactures and of cheap luxuries into lower and -lower classes; and the wealth of the country accumulated under the -beneficent rule of the earlier Ptolemies (300–200 B. C.). - -The principal discoveries about these later ages have been in the -papyri, which have been largely found during the last twenty years. -The details of the government and life of the country in the Ptolemaic -(305–30 B. C.) and Roman (30 B. C.–640 A. D.) periods have been cleared -up; and many prizes of classical literature have also been recovered. -The archæology of the Middle Ages in Egypt has also been studied. -Many of the Arabic buildings have been recently cleaned and put in -good condition, and the splendid collection of manuscripts in Cairo -has opened a view of the beautiful art of the thirteenth-fifteenth -centuries so closely akin to what was done in Europe at the same time. - -Egypt is, then, before all other lands, the country of archæology. A -continuous history of seven thousand years, with abundant remains of -every period to illustrate it, and a rich prehistoric age before that, -give completeness to the study and the fullest value to archæological -research. - - -MESOPOTAMIA - -The valley of the Euphrates might well rival that of the Nile if it -were scientifically explored, but unhappily all the excavation has been -done solely with a view to inscription and sculpture, and no proper -record has been made, nor have any towns been examined, the only work -being in palaces and temples. - -The earliest study on the ground was by Rich (1818–20), who gathered -some few sculptures and formed an idea of Assyrian art. The French -Consul, Botta, excavated Khorsabad (founded 700 B. C.) in 1834–35, and -Layard excavated Nimrud in 1845–47; these were both Assyrian sites. -The older Babylonian civilization was touched at Erech by Loftus, in -1849–52; and this age has attracted the most important excavations -made since, at Tello by Sarzec (1876–81), and at Nippur by Peters and -Haynes, of Philadelphia, during the last few years. - -The cuneiform characters were absolutely unexplained until Grotefend, -in 1800, resolved several of them by taking inscriptions which he -presumed might contain names of Persian kings and comparing them -alongside of the known names; thus—without a single fixed point to -start from—he tried a series of hypotheses until he found one which -fitted the facts. Bournouf (in 1836) and Lassen (1836–44) rectified and -completed the alphabet. But the cuneiform signs were used to write many -diverse languages, as the Roman alphabet is used at present; and the -short Persian alphabet was only a fraction of the great syllabary of -six hundred signs used for Assyrian. Rawlinson had independently made -out the Persian alphabet, using the Zend and Sanskrit for the language. -He next, from the trilingual Behistun inscription in Persian, Assyrian, -and Vannic, resolved the long Assyrian syllabary, using Hebrew for the -language. Since then other more obscure languages written in cuneiform -have been worked with more or less success; the most important is -the Turanian language, used by the earlier inhabitants of Babylonia -before the Semitic invasion; this is recorded by many syllabaries and -dictionaries, and translations compiled by the literary Semitic kings. - -The general view of the civilization which has been obtained by these -labors of the century shows it to have been more important to the -world than any other. Cuneiform was the literary script of the world -for at least six thousand years, the only medium of writing from the -Mediterranean to the Indian Ocean. The Babylonian culture was almost -certainly the source of the oldest present civilization—that of China. -And the arts were developed probably even earlier than in Egypt. The -first inhabitants were called Sumirian (or river folk) in distinction -from the Accadian (or highland) people, who came from Elam down into -the Euphrates valley, bringing with them the use of writing. Their -earliest writing was of figure symbols (like the Egyptian and Hittite); -but as in the valley clay tablets were the only material for writing, -the figures became gradually transformed into groups of straight lines -and spots impressed on the clay; hence the signs were formalized into -what we call cuneiform. The Semitic invaders were using cuneiform -characters by about 3000 B. C. - -The early civilization was intensely religious, the main buildings -being the temples, which were placed on enormous piles of brick-work. -The sculpture was at a high level in the time of Naram-Sinn, about -3750 B. C.; and yet below his ruins at Nippur there are no less than -thirty-five feet depth of earlier ruins, which must extend back to -6000 or 7000 B. C. In early times stone implements were used alongside -of copper and bronze, as we find in Egypt 4000 B. C. Pottery was well -made, and also reliefs in terra-cotta. Personal ornaments of engraved -gems and gold-work were common. - -The main landmarks in the later time of this civilization are the -Elamite invasion of Kudur-nan-khundi (2280 B. C.) which upset the -Semitic rulers, and the Assyrian invasion of Tiglath-Adar (1270 -B. C.), after which interest centres in the Assyrian kingdom and its -development of the Mesopotamian culture which it borrowed. The main -buildings of the Assyrian kings were their enormous palaces, the mass -of which was of unbaked bricks, faced with alabaster slabs; such were -the works of Assurnazir-pal (Nimrud, 880 B. C.), Sargon (Khorsabad, -710 B. C.), Sennacherib and Assurbani-pal (Kouyunjik, 700 B. C.). The -later, Assyrian, form of the civilization was to the earlier Chaldean -much what Rome was to Greece, a rather clumsy borrower, who laboriously -preserved the literature and art. Some of the Assyrian sculpture -of animals is, however, perhaps unsurpassed for vivid action. The -systematic libraries, containing copies of all the older literature -for general study, were most creditable, though the Assyrian himself -composed nothing better than chronicles. Nearly all that we possess -of Babylonian religion, and much of the history, is in the copies -scrupulously made from the ancient tablets by the Assyrian scribes, who -noted every defect in the original with critical fidelity. - -The Mesopotamian civilization has left its mark on the modern world. -Its religion greatly influenced Hebrew, and thence Christian, thought, -the psalms, for instance, being a Babylonian form of piety. Its science -fixed the signs of the zodiac, the months of the year, the days of the -week, and the division of the circle in degrees, all of which are now -universal. And its art, carried by the Phœnicians, was copied by the -Greeks and Etruscans, and thus passed on into modern design. - - -SYRIA - -The knowledge of Palestine was but slight, and of northern Syria -nothing to speak of, a century ago. Travellers with some scientific -ability, such as Robinson (1838 and 1852), De Saulcy (1853), and -Van de Velde (1854), greatly extended our view and led up to the -splendid survey by the Palestine Exploration Fund (1866 and on), which -exhausted the surface study of the land. The more archæological work of -excavation was begun at Jerusalem (1867–70), and resumed (1892–99) at -Lachish, Jerusalem, etc. The topographical results are all important, -and leave nothing to be done until excavation can be freely applied; -and the small amount of digging yet done has fixed the varieties of -pottery back to 2000 B. C. and given some early architecture. But the -ruins of Syria, and indeed of Turkey in general, are practically yet -untouched. The discovery (1868) of the inscription of Mesha, King of -Moab (896 B. C.), opened a new prospect of research which cannot yet -be entered upon. In the north of Syria nothing has been done except -the German work at Singerli, from which came an Aramean inscription of -about 740 B. C. And in the south a large number of early inscriptions -of the Arabian dynasties, reaching back some centuries B. C., have been -copied; but there, also, excavation is impossible. - -The main new light from Syria has been on the Hittite power. -Burckhardt, in 1812, had noticed a new kind of hieroglyph at Hamath. -After several ineffective copies, Wright made casts of the stones -in 1872. Several other such inscriptions have been found, and from -these and the Egyptian and Assyrian references to the Hittites we now -realize that they were a northern people, with a great capital on the -Euphrates, at Karkhemish, and ruling over nearly all Syria and Asia -Minor. Little has yet been fixed about the writing; a few signs are -read and some have passed into the Cypriote alphabet. A striking proof -of the spread of Babylonian culture is seen in the tablets found in -Egypt at Tel-el-Amarna in 1887, which show that all the correspondence -between Egypt and Syria in the fifteenth century B. C. was carried on -in cuneiform. These hundreds of letters give a vivid picture of life in -Syria at that early date. - - -GREECE - -The revival of interest in Greek civilization was at first purely -literary, and remained so during two or three centuries. But during the -last century various travellers and residents abroad made collections -which awoke an interest in the art; and though most of these collectors -were content with merely showy sculpture, greatly restored and -falsified for the market, yet some—such as Hamilton—took a real -archæological interest in the unearthing and collecting of ancient art. -The condition of study at the end of the eighteenth century was that -many private men of wealth had bought large quantities of sculpture -which was but little understood, and looked on more from a decorative -than a scientific point of view, while there were the beginnings of a -serious appreciation of it which had been just laid down by Winckelmann. - -The nineteenth century opened with a grand work of publishing the -principal treasures of classical art in England, which was finally -issued in 1809 by Payne, Knight, and Townley; this marks the highest -point of the dilettante collecting spirit, which was soon eclipsed by -truer knowledge. Hitherto the best sculpture had hardly been known but -at second hand through Roman copies; a closer acquaintance began with -the travels of Dodwell, Gell, and Leake, all in the first decade of -the century. The free opening of the British Museum, in 1805, and the -accumulation there of all the best collections within the first quarter -of the century, also served to educate a public taste. The first -struggle of scientific and artistic knowledge against the dilettante -spirit was over the Elgin marbles; by 1816 they were accepted as the -masterpieces which all later criticism has proved them to be. The -Æginetan and Phigaleian sculptures, brought to Munich and London, -helped also to show the nobility of early Greek art; so that the last -two generations have had a canon of taste to rely upon, the value of -which cannot be overestimated. - -Following on this noble foundation, other collectors worked in -Greece and Asia Minor, and the British Museum profited by the -labors of Burgon, Fellows, and Woodhouse between 1840 and 1860. The -diplomatically supported work of Newton on the Mausoleum (1857–58), -and Wood at Ephesus (1863–75), filled out our knowledge of the middle -period of Greek art (350 B. C.). Comparatively little has been done -since then by England, but the activity of the Germans at Olympia -has given us the only original masterpiece that is known—the Hermes -of Praxiteles (350 B. C.), and their work at Pergamon revealed the -great altar belonging to the later age (180 B. C.). The excavations -at Athens (in 1886) have produced the impressive statues dedicated to -Athene about 520 B. C., which reveal the noble rise of Attic sculpture. -But attention during the last quarter-century has been largely fixed -upon the earlier ages. The discoveries of Schliemann at Hissarlik -(Troy, 1870–82), Mycenæ (1876), Orchomenos (1880–81), and Tiryns -(1884), opened a new world of thought and research. Though at first -bitterly attacked, it is now agreed that these discoveries show us the -civilization of Greece between 2000 and 1000 B. C. Lastly, during ten -years past Egypt has provided the solid chronology for prehistoric -Greece by discoveries of trade between the two countries. - -We can now very briefly estimate the present position of our knowledge -as gained during the century. Setting aside the early foreign pottery -found in Egypt, which belongs probably to Greece or Italy at 5000 and -3000 B. C., we first touch a civilized city in the lowest town of Troy, -where metal was scarcely yet in use, which is certainly before 2000 -and probably about 3000 B. C. in date. Succeeding that is the finely -built second Troy, rich in gold vases and ornaments, which—though -mistaken by Schliemann for the Homeric Troy—must yet be long before -that, probably before 2000 B. C. After the burning of that come three -other rebuildings before we reach the town of the age of Mycenæ, about -1500 B. C. Of this, which was in Greece the climax of the prehistoric -civilization, there are the splendid treasures found at Mycenæ, the -magnificent domed tombs, the abundance of fine jewelry and metal-work, -of beautiful pottery and glazed ornament. To this age belong the -great palaces of Mycenæ, Tiryns, Athens, and other hill fortresses, -of which hardly more than the plans can now be traced. And it is this -civilization which traded eagerly with Egypt, exchanging the valued -manufactures of each country. This period was at its full bloom from -1500–1200 B. C., and began to decay by 1100 B. C., this dating being -given by the contact with Egypt. - -This natural decadence of art in Greece was hastened by the invasion -of the barbarous Dorians about 1000 B. C. Art, however, was by no -means extinguished, but only repressed by the troubles of the age; and -Athens, which was not conquered by the Dorians, was the main centre of -the revival of the arts. Other examples of such a history are familiar -in Egypt (after the Hyksos invasion) and in Italy (after the Lombards), -where earlier abilities revive and bloom afresh when vigorous invaders -become united to an artistic stock. After the centuries of warfare -a quieter age allowed the growth of fine arts again in the seventh -century B. C., largely influenced by Egyptian and Assyrian work at -second hand, through the Greek settlements in Cyprus and Egypt. By -600 B. C. definite types of sculpture were started, and a course -was begun which only ended in the fall of classical civilization. -The century before the Persian invasion, in 480 B. C., was one of -rapid development; and in sculpture and vase-painting we see that -this century carried forward the arts to technical perfection and the -highest power of expression. Immediately after the Persian wars came -the supreme works of Pheidias and Myron, most familiar in the Parthenon -and the Discobolus; and in vase-painting comes the reversal from vases -drawn in black on a red ground to the blocking out of the ground in -black, leaving the figure in red, thus giving far greater scope to the -filling in of finely drawn detail. The civilization of Athens was also -at its height in this age, under Pericles, and the minor arts received -their most refined and perfect treatment. After this comes nothing but -ripening to decay. It must always be remembered that we have but very -few examples of original work of the great artists. Nearly all the -actual marbles preserved are copies made in later times, which show -little of the delicacy of the original; and the few original marbles -that remain are mostly of unknown subjects by unknown men. The great -work in Greek archæology during the last fifty years has been comparing -the records of ancient art (in Pliny, Pausanias, etc.) with the -remaining sculptures, critically assigning the various types of statues -to their celebrated originals, and thus forming some idea of the real -history of Greek art. - -From these studies, full of detail and controversy, we may briefly sum -up the characteristics of the principal artists and their imitators. At -about 440 B. C. Pheidias showed in the Parthenon the highest expression -of divine and mythic forms, in a simple and heroic style which was -never equalled. Half a century later Polykleitos followed a more human -expression, using motives (as in the Doryphoros), but yet portraying an -abstract humanity. By 330 B. C. Praxiteles brought the expression of -moods to his works, graceful, animated, and with a full ripeness, as -in the Hermes of Olympia, or the Faun. Skopas, slightly later, marked -his work by his great vigor and strong personality. This was the second -turning-point, when ripeness passed into decay; and in Lysippos there -is mere vivid naturalism and an impressionist manner without much soul -or thought, as in his Apoxyomenos, about 330 B. C. After this mere -triviality and genre subjects are usual, portraiture is a common aim, -and dignity was vainly striven for in colossal size. The glorification -of showing dead and vanquished enemies is seen in the Dying Gaul and -figures of slain foes at Pergamon. Later on, about 180 B. C., we -see the violent, complicated, and straining action of the figures -around the great altar of Pergamon, which also appears in the groups -of the Laocoon and Farnese Bull. In the Græco-Roman age a conscious -artificiality took the place of life and expression, as we see in the -Apollo Belvidere, the Venus di Medici, and the Farnese Hercules. Art -was saved in the first century A. D. by the devotion of portraiture, -which gave a sense of reality and conviction which is entirely absent -in the imaginative works. Lastly, a painstaking study and admiration of -earlier works led, under the wealthy patronage of Hadrian (130 A. D.), -to an eclectic revival which was wholly artificial, and passed away -within a generation. We have fixed on sculpture as the most complete -expression of Greek art; in other directions there is neither enough -material nor enough research to give us a connected view. Not a single -town, hardly a single house, in Greece has been excavated; there is no -consecutive knowledge of the ordinary products and objects of life; -and there is very little recorded of the discoveries of the tombs. The -artistic interest of the sculpture and architecture has starved other -branches of archæology, and for Greece more remains to be done than for -some less celebrated lands. - - -ITALY - -The interest in Italy at the beginning of the nineteenth century was -mainly for the sake of its second-hand version of Greek art, and for -the architecture and painting of the Renaissance. On the contrary, now -the objects from Greece itself have far eclipsed the Italian copies, -and the interest lies in the early Italian civilization and its purely -Roman derivatives; while modern taste values the mediæval art of Italy -far from the bastard products of the florid age which followed. The -first detailed studies in Italy were those on Pompeii, especially by -Gell (1817), which made that debased style very popular, and paved the -way for appreciation of better work. The various isolated discoveries -of Etruscan tombs were summed up in the admirable work of Dennis -(1848), which presented a general view of that civilization which has -not been superseded. The earlier Italic culture has been examined in -many places where accidental discoveries have revealed it during the -latter half of the nineteenth century, and especially in the systematic -work of Zannoni, at Bologna (1870–75), and of Orsi, lately, in Sicily. -The history of the city of Rome has been almost rewritten in the -last thirty years owing to the great changes of the new government; -these have been largely worked by Lanciani, and recorded by him and -Middleton. The view of Italian history at present begins in the Stone -age, which has been well studied, and has links with the later periods, -as in the general use of black pottery. The earliest metal objects are -very simple blades of daggers, found in graves, mingled with flint -arrow-heads and knives. The admirable Italian plan of preserving whole -burials undisturbed in museums enables us to see these graves complete -in the Kircherian Museum. A special branch of the early Bronze age -life was the system of lake dwellings (natural or artificially water -girt), which abound in the northern Italian lakes and over the plain -of Lombardy. These towns (“terra mare”) are arranged on a rectangular -plan, and form the earliest stage of many of the present cities. The -full development of the Bronze age civilization seems to have been -later than in Greece, at about 800 B. C., to which belong the great -discoveries of tombs, weapons, and tools at Bologna, and the cemetery -of Falerii. - -Upon all the native Italic civilization came an entirely different -influence from the immigrant Etruscan. Traditionally coming from -Asia Minor, he brought art and religion which had no relation to the -Italic. The earliest Etruscan paintings are strongly northern in style, -influenced by north European feeling (Veii). But soon the Etruscan -borrowed largely from other races, from the Greek mainly, but also -from Assyria and Egypt. Thus the fascinating problem in Italy is to -distinguish the various sources of Italic, Etruscan, Græco-Etruscan, -Oriental-Etruscan, and pure Greek, which are found in all degrees of -combination before Roman times, and which can still be traced through -the Roman age. The characteristics of Etruscan taste are: (1) The -extraneous objects and figures, such as rows of pendants to a metal -vase, monstrous heads standing out from a bowl, and statuettes placed -for handles; (2) in forms of vases and furniture, the combination of -many different parts and curves which never form a whole design; (3) -and in sculpture the large round head and staring eyes. In general, an -air of clumsy adaptation by a race deficient in originality. The glory -of the Etruscan was his engineering, which he handed as a legacy to -Rome. Strange to say, although thousands of Etruscan inscriptions are -known, and many words are translated, yet the language is sealed to us, -and none of the many attempts to read it has succeeded. The scientific -study of Etruscan tombs has been well followed lately, as shown in the -Florence Museum, where a separate room is devoted to each city. - -In the south of Italy Greek art prevailed, and many of the finest -works belong to this civilization. The Greek in Italy had rather -different ideals to those of Greece; he started more from the level -of Polykleitos and Praxiteles than from the severe age; his favorite -type is that of youth and adolescence, never of maturity. The grace and -feeling of such bronze statues as the Hermes and so-called Sappho of -Herculaneum are peculiar to southern Italy. And when the Greek artist -penetrated north and allied himself with the mechanical skill of the -Etruscan, such splendid work was done as the Orator of Sanguineto. - -Rome in the earlier centuries was an Italic town which came under -Etruscan influence as Tuscany was conquered. But from the age of -foreign conquest in the first century B. C., Greek art in a debased -form ruled over all else, and ran into utter degradation in the third -century A. D. It was this art that the power of Rome spread around the -whole Mediterranean, from Palmyra to Britain, and is the parent of most -modern decoration. But in the great reconstruction of the empire under -Diocletian the debased Greek taste was mostly shaken off, and Rome -went back to the old Italic-Etruscan style and motives. The statues -have the round heads and staring eyes of old Etruria; the taste for -quaint accessories, such as lions supporting objects, came back and -passed into mediæval art, and the exaggerated, lengthy forms of men and -animals reappeared. - -Of the Christian period De Rossi’s work in the catacombs has given -a firm base of facts for the third to the sixth century A. D., the -actual tomb and body of Saint Cecilia being the most striking result. -The later Roman and mediæval age in Italy is full of interest, but in -that—as in the rest of mediæval Europe—research has been mainly on -architecture and objects which are not the result of excavation. - - -INDIA - -The Hindus have never been chronologists or historians, and their -great Sanskrit literature tells practically nothing about the rise of -Buddhism, the invasion of Alexander, or the spread of civilization in -Indo-China. All before the Islamic conquest in the tenth century A. D. -is in a mist of Puranic mythology. Here, then, more than in other -countries, archæology has restored the history, and done so entirely -within the nineteenth century. - -The existence of Sanskrit literature was revealed to the West by Sir -William Jones at the end of the last century, and this gave scope to -Oriental scholars, while antiquities only interested the collector. But -serious exploration was led by Prinsep, whose decipherment of the Asoka -inscriptions in 1837, which ranks with the achievements of Champollion -and Rawlinson, gave the key to a mass of inscriptions. - -His assistant, Cunningham, excavated many sites and collected coins, -being head of the Archæological Survey from 1861 to 1885. Fergusson -was the historian of Indian architecture; Burgess has published the -cave-temples in west and south India; Sewell in Madras and Führer in -the northwest have excavated and explored, and a few native pundits -have been educated to such research. The government, in financial -difficulty, has withdrawn from the work, but the congress of -Orientalists in 1897 resolved to establish an Indian exploration fund. - -Inscriptions abound in India, on copper plate, stone pillars, and -native rock. Those in Sanskrit, or modern vernaculars, are records of -land grants or local dynasties. The oldest—in two different alphabets -(of Semitic origin)—are the famous edicts of Asoka (third century -B. C.), who has been called The Buddhist Constantine. He placed these -monuments of his power and religion around his frontiers of northern -India; but their meaning was forgotten until Prinsep’s decipherment. -The Hindus seem to have a coinage of stamped silver plate before -Alexander; but regular coinage begins in the Bactrian kingdoms (200 -B. C.–200 A. D.), with Greek and native inscriptions. Since then the -coinage is continuous, and invaluable for history. No stone building -or sculpture is older than Alexander (327 B. C.), or certainly earlier -than Asoka (264–233 B. C.). Greek influence is plain in the Punjab, -but native style is seen in the cave-temples. The richest results have -been from the mounds, some of which are ruins of forts or palaces, -but the more important are the _stupas_, lofty domes erected two to -one thousand years ago to enshrine Buddhist relics. These domes are -surrounded with sculptured reliefs of scenes in the life of Buddha, -and are often dated by inscriptions. From one lately opened the Buddha -relic has been sent to the King of Siam, the only Buddhist king. Much -has been done by the government in publishing and providing casts and -photographs; but India yet needs a scientific archæologist to record -details with the accuracy demanded by modern research. - - -AMERICA - -Archæological work in the United States and in Central America was -begun by Squier about the middle of the century, and the attention -thus drawn to the subject has borne fruit in the more accurate and -scientific explorations connected with the surveying and geological -departments, and, above all, those of the Smithsonian Bureau of -Ethnology. The names of Whitney, Wright, Cyrus Thomas, Holmes, Fowke, -Mindeleff, and others, will be familiar to all American readers by -their work of the last twenty years, and need no introducing here. - -The earliest remains of man in America—or perhaps in the world—are -those beneath the great lava beds of California; since those were -deposited the rivers have cut their beds through two thousand to four -thousand feet of lava rock, implying an erosion during tens, or perhaps -hundreds, of thousands of years. But little can be assigned, however, -with any certainty to a date before the Christian era, though mounds of -refuse on both ocean shores may probably belong to an age before any -human history. - -The most important studies have been those on the highest civilization -of the continent, that of Central America. The destroying Spaniards -preserved but little of native record, except incidentally, and the -first collector of Aztec manuscripts was Benaduci (1736), of whose -treasures but an eighth survived his imprisonments and persecutions, -one of the greatest disasters to history. The first great publication -of manuscripts was the magnificent work of Lord Kingsborough (1830); -and almost at the same time appeared Prescott’s history. Though the -later researches have shown that the land was divided into many small -kingdoms, rather than under one power, as Prescott supposed, yet his -account of the calendar and chronology of the Aztecs has been verified -and added to, and far more has been done in reading the manuscripts -than he supposed possible. Aubin, after years of work in Mexico, -brought to Europe manuscripts of an entirely new kind, showing a fully -developed system of phonetic writing, which he has largely deciphered -with success, having analyzed over one hundred syllabic values -correctly. - -One of the most complete studies has been that of the Mayan Quiché -peoples, and especially of the Mayans of Yucatan. In 1864 Landa’s work -on Yucatan (written 1566) was rediscovered, and the account of the -calendar has sufficed to enable Goodman to discover the meaning of a -very large number of signs (1897); these enable the numerical documents -to be translated, and show that a period of as much as eight thousand -years was dealt with by the Mayans, perhaps belonging to mythical ages. -The alphabetic signs of Landa have proved useless so far, and Goodman -even disbelieves in any record except that of numbers. Seler has shown -the identical origin of the signs used by Aztecs and Mayans for the -days and months. Little had been done to make known these remains until -the recent explorations, casts, and publications of Maudsley, who -has worked magnificently for seventeen years at Copan, Palenque, and -Chichen-Itza; these, however, are but three of innumerable cities of -Guatemala and Yucatan that need exploration. - -In New Mexico the many ruins from the Colorado to the Rio Grande have -been proved to resemble those of the modern Pueblo Indians, and to have -none of the characteristics of Central American architecture; there -are no sculptures, and the rock inscriptions are too primitive to be -interpreted. Nothing points to an Aztec occupation, and probably the -ancestors of the present people were the builders. - -The innumerable earthworks of the Mississippi valley were formerly -supposed to belong to some vanished race. And the view that they were -connected with the Central American civilization is favored by the -pyramid mound, which was hardly known otherwise, and by the excellence -of the minor sculpture. But there are great differences between the two -civilizations. The mound-builders were far inferior in metal-working, -and their burial customs are peculiar. The use of materials from both -east and west coasts shows an extensive commerce. The best summing up -of the researches is that by Prof. Cyrus Thomas, after his extensive -excavations. He concludes that the remains of the mound-builders show -no great antiquity; that they were formed by tribes like the existing -Indians; that the builders were of the same culture as were the Indians -when discovered; that such mounds continued to be made and used for -burial during the European period, and that the principal builders were -the Cherokees. - -It will be seen now how totally our view of man’s history has been -changed by the study of archæology, and how fundamentally this science -affects our ideas of the past and our expectations for the future of -our race. The main outlines have been dimly seen; but in every country -the greater part yet remains to be done, and in Turkey, Persia, and -China most important civilizations are as yet quite untouched by -exploration. The new century will no doubt see a harvest from these -lands; and it is to be hoped that what yet remains in the safe keeping -of the earth may be found by able men, who will preserve it for -instruction and enable posterity to trace the fortunes of our species. - -[India and America are here treated with the assistance of Mr. J. S. -Cotton and Mr. D. MacIver.] - - W. M. FLINDERS PETRIE. - - - - -ASTRONOMY - - -In looking back over a century’s work in the oldest of the sciences, -one is struck not only by the enormous advance that has been made in -those branches of the science dealing with the motions of the heavenly -bodies which were cultivated at least eight thousand years ago by -early dwellers in the valleys of the Nile, Tigris, and Euphrates, -but with the fact that during the century that has just passed away -a perfectly new science of astronomy arose. By annexing physics and -chemistry astronomers now study the motions of the particles of which -all celestial bodies are composed; a new molecular astronomy has now -been firmly established side by side with the old molar astronomy which -formerly alone occupied the thoughts of star-gazers. - -Along this new line our knowledge has advanced by leaps and bounds, and -the results already obtained in expanding and perfecting man’s views of -nature in all her beauty and immensity are second to none which have -been garnered during the last hundred years. - - -THE POSITION AT THE BEGINNING OF THE CENTURY - -It may be well before attempting to obtain a glimpse of recent progress -that we should try to grasp the state of the science at the time when -the nineteenth century was about to dawn, and this, perhaps, can be -best accomplished by seeing what men were working at this period, at -which the greatest activity was to be found in Germany; there was -no permanent observatory in the southern hemisphere or in the United -States. - -First and foremost among the workers—he has, in fact, been described -as “the greatest of modern astronomers”—was William Herschel, a German -domiciled in England. In the year 1773 he hired a telescope, and with -this small instrument he obtained his first glimpses of the rich fields -of exploration open in the skies. From that time onward he had one -fixed purpose in his mind, which was to obtain as intimate knowledge as -possible of the construction of the heavens. - -To do this, of course, great optical power was necessary, and such was -his energy that, as large instruments were not to be obtained at any -price, he set to work and made them himself. - -Herschel presented the beginning of the nineteenth century not only -with a definite idea of the constitution of the stellar system, based -on a connected body of facts and deductions from facts, as gleaned -through his telescopes, but observations without number in many fields. -He discovered a new planet, Uranus, and several satellites of the -planets; published catalogues of nebulæ; established the gravitational -bond between many “double stars,” and carried on observations of the -sun, then supposed to be a habitable globe. What Herschel did for -observational astronomy and deductions therefrom, Laplace did for the -furtherance of our knowledge concerning the exact motions of the bodies -comprising the solar system. Newton had long before announced that -gravitation was universal, and Laplace brought together investigations -undertaken to determine the validity of this law. These were given to -the world in his wonderful book on _Celestial Mechanics_, the first -volumes of which appeared in 1799. - -A survey of the work of these two great astronomers gives one an idea -of what was going on in observational and mathematical astronomy at -the beginning of the century. - -The study was now destined to make rapid strides, as not only were new -optical instruments—some designed for special purposes—introduced, -new mathematical processes applied, fresh fields for research -opened up, but the number of workers was considerably augmented by -the increased means available; so much so, indeed, that the first -astronomical periodical was founded by Von Zach in 1800 to facilitate -intercommunications between the observers. - -The first evening of the nineteenth century (January 1, 1801) augured -well for progress. It had long been thought that all the members of -the solar system had not as yet been discovered, and there was a very -notable gap between the planets Mars and Jupiter, indicated by Bode’s -law. Observers were organized to make a thorough search for the missing -planet, portions of the sky being divided between them for minute -examination. It fell to the Italian observer, Piazzi, to discover a -small body which was moving in an orbit between these two planets on -the date named. The century thus began with a sensation, and because -the new body, which was named “Ceres,” was not of sufficient size to be -accepted as the “missing planet,” the idea was suggested that perhaps -it was a fragment of a larger planet that had been blown to pieces in -the past. - -An opportunity here arose for mathematical astronomy to come to the -help of the observer, for Ceres soon was lost in the solar rays, and in -order to rediscover it, after it had passed conjunction, an approximate -knowledge of its path and future position was necessary. - -With the then existing methods of computation of orbits it was -imperative to have numerous measured positions to use as data for the -calculation. The scanty data available in the case of Ceres were not -sufficient for the application of the method. The occasion discovered a -man, one of the greatest mathematicians of the nineteenth century, Karl -Frederick Gauss, who, although only twenty-five years of age, undertook -the solution of the problem by employing a system which he had devised, -known as “the method of least squares,” which enabled him to obtain a -most probable result from a given set of observations. - -This, with a more general method of orbit computation, also elaborated -by himself, was sufficient to enable him to calculate future positions -of Ceres, and on the anniversary of the original discovery, Olbers, -another great pioneer in orbit calculations, found the planet in very -nearly the position assigned by Gauss. So great was the curiosity -regarding the other portions of the planet, which was supposed to have -been shattered, that numerous observers at once commenced to search -after other fragments. - -These were the _actualities_ of 1801 and thereabouts; but the seed -of much future work was sown. Kant and Laplace had already occupied -themselves with theories as to the world formation, and spectrum -analysis as applied to the heavenly bodies may be said to have been -started by Wollaston’s observations of dark lines in the solar spectrum -in 1802. Fraunhofer was then a boy at school. In the same year the -first photographic prints were produced by Wedgewood and Davy. - - -OBSERVATORIES - -It has been stated that at the beginning of the century there were -no permanent observatories either in the southern hemisphere or in -the United States. The end of the century finds us with two hundred -observatories all told, of which fourteen are south of the equator -and forty-seven in the United States, among which latter are the -best-equipped and most active in the world. - -The observatory of Parramatta was the first established (1821) in the -southern hemisphere. This was followed by that at the Cape of Good Hope -in 1829. Of the more modern southern observatories from which the best -work has come we may mention Cordova, the seat of Gould’s important -investigations, established in 1868, and Arequipa, a dependency of -Harvard, whence the spectra of the southern stars have been secured, -erected still more recently (1881). - -I believe, but I do not know, that the large number of American -observatories have radiated from Cincinnati, where, in consequence of -eloquent appeals, both by voice and pen, from Mitchell, then professor -of astronomy, an observatory was commenced in 1845. There can be no -doubt that at the present moment, with the numerous well-equipped and -active observatories, and the careful and thorough teaching established -side by side with them, which enables numberless students to use the -various instruments, the United States, in matters astronomical, fills -the position occupied by Germany at the beginning of the century. - -In Europe special observatories have been established at Meudon, -Kensington, and Potsdam, so that new astrophysical inquiries may be -undertaken without interfering with the prosecution or extension of the -important meridional work carried on at Paris, Greenwich, and Berlin. -A large proportion of the observations made by the Lick and Yerkes -observatories in the United States has been astrophysical. - -One of the special inquiries committed to the charge of the Solar -Physics Observatory at Kensington at its establishment by the -British government had relation to the possibility of running home -meteorological changes on the earth, especially those followed by -drought and famines in various parts of the empire, to the varying -changes in the sun indicated by the ebb and flow of spots on its -surface. With this end in view observations of the sun were commenced -in India and the Mauritius to supplement those taken at Greenwich. At -the same time other daily observations of sun spots by a different -method were commenced at Kensington. - -This kind of work was at first considered ideally useless; we shall see -later on what has become of it. - - -IMPROVEMENTS IN TELESCOPES - -The progress in astronomical science throughout the nineteenth century -has naturally to a great extent depended upon the advances made both -in the optics of the telescope and the way in which they are mounted, -either with circles to record exact times and positions, or made to -move so as to keep a star or other celestial objects in the field of -view while under observation. The perfection of definition and the -magnitude of the lenses employed in the modern instrument have been -responsible for many important discoveries. - -Ever since the telescope was invented—Galileo’s lens was smaller -than those used in spectacles—men’s minds have been concentrated on -producing instruments of larger and larger size to fathom the cosmos to -its innermost depths. - -At the beginning of the century we were, as we have seen already, in -possession of reflectors of large dimensions; Herschel’s four-foot -mirror, the instrument he was using in 1801, which had a focal length -of forty feet, was capable of being employed with high magnifying -powers; and it was the judicious use of these, on occasions when the -finest of weather prevailed, that enabled him to enrich so extensively -our knowledge of the stellar and planetary systems. For the ordinary -work of astronomy, however, especially when circles are used, -refractors are the more suitable instruments. This form suffers less -from the vicissitudes of weather and temperature, and is, therefore, -more suited where exact measurements are required. - -Towards the end of the eighteenth century a Swiss artisan, Pierre -Guinard, after many years of patient labor, succeeded in producing pure -disks of flint glass as large as six inches in diameter. The modern -refracting telescope thus became possible. - -In 1804 there was started at Munich the famous optical and mechanical -institute, which soon made its presence felt in the astronomical world. -Reforms in instrument making were soon taken in hand, and under the -leadership of the great German astronomer, Bessel, great strides were -made in instruments of precision. Fraunhofer, who had been silently -working away at the theory of lenses, and making various experiments -in the manufacture of glass, was joined, in 1805, by Guinard. In 1809 -Troughton invented a new method of graduating circles, according to -Airy the greatest improvement ever achieved in the art of instrument -making. - -In 1824 Fraunhofer successfully completed and perfected an object-glass -of 9.9 inches in diameter for the Dorpat Observatory. This objective -might literally have been called a “giant,” for nothing approaching it -in size had been previously made. - -England, which was at one time the exclusive seat of the manufacture of -refracting telescopes, was now completely outstripped by both Germany -and France, and for this we had to thank “the short-sighted policy of -the government, which had placed an exorbitant duty on the manufacture -of flint glass.” In 1833 the Dorpat refractor was eclipsed by one of -fifteen inches aperture made for the Pulkowa Observatory by Merz & -Mähler, Fraunhofer’s successors, who about ten years later supplied a -similar instrument to Harvard College. At that time Lord Rosse emulated -with success the efforts of Herschel and rehabilitated the reflector by -producing a metallic mirror of six-foot aperture and fifty-four-foot -focal length which he mounted at Parsonstown. The speculum weighed -no less than four tons. To mount this immense mass efficiently and -safely was a work of no light nature, but he successfully accomplished -it, and eventually both mirror and the telescope, which weighed now -altogether fourteen tons, were so well counterpoised that they could be -easily moved in a limited direction by means of a windlass worked by -two men. The perfection of the “seeing” qualities of this instrument -and its enormous light-grasping powers were particularly striking, and -observational astronomy was considerably enriched by the discoveries -made with it. - -Speculum metal was not destined to stay; ten years later (1857) the -genius of Léon Foucault introduced glass mirrors with a thin coating of -silver deposited chemically, and these have now universally superseded -the metallic ones. - -The long supremacy of Germany in the matter of refractors was broken -down ultimately by the famous English optician and engineer, Thomas -Cooke, of York. His first considerable instrument, one of seven -inches aperture, was finished in 1851; and in 1865, a year before his -lamented death, he completed the first of our present giant refractors, -one of twenty-five inches aperture, for Mr. Newall, of Gateshead. -In consequence of the success of Cooke’s achievement other large -refractors were soon undertaken. - -Alvan Clarke, the famous optician of Cambridgeport, Massachusetts, -at once commenced a twenty-six-inch for the Washington Observatory. -The next was one of twenty-seven inches, made by Grubb for the Vienna -Observatory. Object-glasses now grew inch by inch in size, depending -on the increased dimensions of disks that could be satisfactorily cast. -Gautier, of Paris, completed a twenty-nine-and-a-half-inch for the Nice -Observatory, while Alvan Clarke made an objective of thirty inches for -Pulkowa. In 1877 the latter successfully completed the mounting of -an objective of thirty-six inches for the Lick Observatory, but this -immense lens was only achieved after a great number of failures. Even -this large object-glass was surpassed in size by the completion in 1892 -of the forty-inch which he made for the Yerkes Observatory, and by that -made by Gautier for the Paris Exhibition of 1900. - -So much, then, for the largest refractors. In recent years, since the -introduction of the silver on glass mirrors, with their stability of -figure and brilliant surface, which can be easily renewed, reflectors -of large apertures are again being produced. The first of these was -one of thirty-six inches aperture made by Calver for Dr. Common, who -demonstrated its fine qualities and his own skill by the beautiful -photographs of the nebula of Orion he was enabled to secure with -it. Dr. Common himself has since turned his attention to the making -and silvering of large mirrors of this kind, and the largest he has -actually completed and mounted equatorially is one with a diameter of -five feet. Another of thirty-six inches aperture is in use at the Solar -Physics Observatory at Kensington. - -The progress of depositing silver on glass has led of late years to -important developments in which _plane_ mirrors are used. Foucault was -the first to utilize such mirrors in his “siderostat,” in which such a -mirror is made to move in front of a horizontal fixed telescope, which -may be of any focal length, and no expensive dome or rising floor is -required. The plane mirror of the siderostat in the Paris Exhibition -telescope is six feet in diameter. - -A variation of this instrument is the cœlostat more recently advocated -by Lippmann. The Coudé equatorial mounting also depends upon the use of -plane mirrors; with such a telescope the observer is at rest at a fixed -eye-piece or camera in a room which may be kept at any temperature. - -Now that in astronomical work eye observations are indispensably -supplemented by the employment of photography, an important -modification of the refracting telescope has become necessary; this was -first suggested by Rutherfurd. - -The ordinary achromatic object-glass consists, as a rule, of two -lenses, one made of flint and the other of crown glass; but in this -form the photographic rays are not brought to the same focus as the -visual rays. This, however, can be achieved by employing three lenses -instead of two, each of different kinds of glass. The most modern -improvement in the telescope is due to Mr. Dennis Taylor, of Cooke & -Sons, and to Dr. Schott and Professor Abbe, whose researches in the -manufacture of old and new varieties of optical glass have rendered -Mr. Taylor’s results feasible. By the Taylor lens outstanding color is -abolished, all the rays being brought absolutely to the same focus; -such lenses can therefore be used either for visual observations or for -photography for spectroscopy. - - -SPECTROSCOPIC ASTRONOMY - -The branch of physics which at the present day has assumed such mighty -and far-reaching proportions in astronomical work is that dealing with -spectrum analysis, which, although suggested as early as the time of -Kepler, did not receive any impetus as regards its application to -celestial bodies until the beginning of the present century at the -hands of Wollaston and Fraunhofer. Then, however, it still lacked the -chemical touch supplied afterwards by Kirchhoff and Bunsen. They showed -us that the spectrum observed when the light from any heated body is -passed through a prism is an index to the chemical composition of the -light source; the constitution of a vapor when in a condition to absorb -light can be determined by an extension of the same principle, first -demonstrated by Stokes, Angström, and Balfour Stewart, when the century -was about half completed. - -The first celestial body towards which the spectroscope was turned was -our central luminary, the sun. - -Wollaston first discovered that its spectrum was crossed by a few -dark lines; we learned next from Fraunhofer, who in 1814 worked with -instruments of greater power, that the solar spectrum was crossed -not only by a few dark lines, but by some hundreds. Not content with -examining the light of the sun, Fraunhofer turned his instrument -towards the stars, the light of which he also examined, so that he may -be justly called the inventor of stellar spectrum analysis. It is not -to the credit of modern science that from this time forward spectrum -analysis did not become a recognized branch of scientific inquiry, but, -as a matter of fact, Fraunhofer’s observations were buried in oblivion -for nearly half a century. The importance of them was not recognized -till the origin of the dark lines, both in sun and stars, had been -explained by Stokes and others, as before stated. The lines in the -solar spectrum were mapped with great diligence by Kirchhoff in 1861 -and 1862, and later by Angström and Thalen, and this was done side by -side with chemical work in the laboratory. The chemistry of the sun was -thus to a great extent revealed; it was no longer a habitable globe, -but one with its visible boundary at a fierce heat, surrounded by an -atmosphere of metallic vapors, chief among them iron, also in a state -of incandescence. To these metallic vapors Angström added hydrogen -shortly afterwards. - -Here, then, was established a firm link between the heavens and the -earth; the first step to the problem of the chemistry of space had been -taken. - -It was only natural that as advances were made the instrumental -equipment should keep pace with them. Spectroscopes were built on -a larger scale; more prisms, which meant greater dispersion, were -employed to render the measurements of the lines in spectra more -accurate. The growth of our knowledge especially necessitated the -making of maps of the lines in the solar spectrum, and in the spectra -of the chemical elements which had been compared with it on a natural -scale. This was done by Angström, who utilized for this purpose the -diffraction grating invented by Fraunhofer, and defined the position of -all lines in spectra by their “wave lengths,” in ten-millionths of a -millimetre or “tenth-metres.” - -In 1862 Rutherfurd extended Fraunhofer’s work on the stars by a first -attempt at classification. Two years later Huggins and Miller produced -maps of the spectra of some stars. Donati demonstrated that comets gave -radiation spectra, and Huggins did the same for nebulæ. - -By these observations comets and nebulæ were shown to be -spectroscopically different from stars, which at that time were studied -by their dark lines only. - -Chiefly by the labors of Pickering, the energetic head of the Harvard -Observatory, science has been enriched during the later years by -observations of thousands of stellar spectra, the study of which has -brought about the most marvellous advance in our knowledge. - -These priceless data have enabled us now to classify the stars not only -by their brightness, or their color, but by their chemistry. - -Next to be chronicled is the application of the so-called -Doppler-Fizeau principle, which teaches us that when a light source -is approaching or receding from us the light waves are crushed -together or drawn out, so that the wave length is changed. The amount -of change gives us the velocity of approach or recess, so that the -rate of movement of stars towards or from the earth, or the up-rush -or down-rush of the solar vapors on the sun’s disk can be accurately -determined. A further utilization of this principle is found when the -stars are so close together that they appear as one if the plane of -motion passes near the earth. A line common to the spectra of both -stars will appear double twice in each revolution, when the motion to -or from the earth, or, as it is termed, “in the line of sight,” is -greatest. “Spectroscopic doubles,” as these stars are called, yield -up many of their secrets which otherwise would elude us. Their time -of revolution, the size of the orbit, and the combined mass can be -determined. - -To return from the stars to the sun. - -By the device of throwing an image of the sun on the slit of the -spectroscope the spectra of solar spots have been studied from 1866 -onward, and a little later the brighter portions of the sun’s outer -envelopes, revealed till then only during eclipses, were brought within -our ken spectroscopically, so that they are now studied every day. - - -CELESTIAL PHOTOGRAPHY - -Wedgewood and Davy, in 1802, made prints on paper by means of silver -salts, but it was not until 1830 that Niepce and Daguerre founded -photography, which Arago, in an address to the French Chamber, at once -suggested might subsequently be used to record the positions of stars. - -In 1839 we find Sir John Herschel carrying out a series of experiments -so important for our correct knowledge of the sequence of steps in the -early stages of photography that I have no hesitation in quoting from -one of Herschel’s manuscripts relating to a deposit on a glass plate -of “muriate” [chloride] of silver from a mixed solution of the nitrate -with common salt. The manuscript states: “After forty-eight hours [the -chloride] had formed a film firm enough to bear draining the water off -very slowly by a siphon. Having dried it, I found that it was very -little affected by light, and by washing it with nitrate of silver, -weak, and drying it, it became highly sensitive. In this state I took a -camera picture of the telescope on it.” - -The original of the above-mentioned photograph, the first photograph -ever taken on glass, is now in the science collection at the Victoria -and Albert Museum, South Kensington. - -In the early days of photography colored glasses were first used -to investigate the action of different colors on the photographic -plate. Sir John Herschel was among the first to propose that such -investigations should be made direct with a spectrum, and he, like Dr. -J. W. Draper, stated that he had found a new kind of light beyond the -blue end of the spectrum, as the photographic plate showed a portion of -the spectrum there which was not visible to the eye. Advance followed -advance, and in 1842 Becquerel photographed the whole solar spectrum, -in colors, with nearly all the lines registered by the hand and eye -of Fraunhofer, not only the blue end, but the complete spectrum, from -Draper’s “latent light,” as he called the ultra-violet rays, to the -extreme red end. - -The first photograph of a celestial object was one of the moon, secured -by Dr. J. W. Draper in 1840; we had to wait till 1845, so far as I -know, before a daguerreotype was taken of the sun; this was done by -Foucault and Fizeau, while the first photograph of a star—Vega—was -taken at Harvard in 1850. After the introduction of the wet-collodion -process regular photography of the sun’s surface was commenced, at Sir -John Herschel’s recommendation, at Kew in 1858, and the total solar -eclipse of 1860 was made memorable by the photographs of De La Rue, who -before that time had secured most admirable photographs of the moon, as -also had Rutherfurd. - -Photography now began to pay the debt she owed to spectrum analysis. - -The first laboratory photograph of the spectra of the chemical elements -was taken by Dr. W. A. Miller in 1862. - -Rutherfurd was the first to secure a photograph of the solar spectrum -with considerable dispersion by means of prisms. - -In 1863 Mascart undertook a complete photographic investigation of -the ultra-violet portion of the solar spectrum, a work of no mean -magnitude. He, however, did not employ a train of prisms for producing -the spectrum, but a diffraction grating, using the light reflected -from the first surface. The first photograph of the spectrum of a star -was secured by Henry Draper, the son of Dr. J. W. Draper, one of the -pioneers in photography in 1872. - -It was not till the introduction of dry plates in 1876 that the -photography of the fainter celestial objects or of their spectra was -possible, as a long exposure was naturally required. Stellar spectra -were photographed by Huggins in 1879, and in the next year Draper -photographed the nebula of Orion. As the dry plates became more rapid, -and as longer exposures were employed, revelation followed revelation; -the nebulæ as seen by the naked eye, and even some stars, were found -by the Henrys, Roberts, Max Wolf, Barnard, and others, to be but the -brighter kernels of large nebulous patches. - -This new application of photography, depending upon long exposures (the -longest one I know of has extended to forty hours), had an important -reflex action on the mechanical parts of the telescope; it was not -only necessary to keep the faintest star exactly on the same part of -the plate during the whole of the exposure, but night after night the -stellar image must be brought on to the same part of the plate so that -the exposure might be continued. - -A system of electric control of the going of the driving-clock of the -telescope by means of a sidereal clock was introduced, the simplest one -being designed by Russell, of Sydney; a most elaborate one by Grubb, of -Dublin. - -Another application of the method of long exposures has been the -discovery of minor planets by the trails impressed by their motion -among the stars on the photographic plates on which the images of both -are impressed. - -A complete spectroscopic survey of the stars by means of photography -was commenced in 1886 at Harvard College, as a memorial to Draper, who -died while he was laboring diligently and successfully in securing -advances in astrophysical inquiries. To carry on this work at Harvard, -Professor Pickering wisely reverted to the method first employed by -Fraunhofer, and utilized by Respighi and another in 1871, of placing -prisms in front of the object-glass. - -In the photographing of stellar spectra by means of objective prisms, -the driving-clock of the telescope must _not_ go exactly at sidereal -rate, but at certain speeds depending on the brightness and position of -the star under examination. - -This is necessary because the image of the spectrum of a star on -the photograph is only a thin line in which it is impossible to see -the spectral lines; the spectrum must be broadened, and this is -accomplished by making the star image “trail” to a certain degree on -the plate. This trailing is accomplished by means of the clock, the -rate of which is made to vary. In this way the trail of a spectrum of -a star on the photographic plate is always obtained of the same width, -while the density of the image is made fairly constant by increasing -the rate for bright stars and decreasing it for fainter ones. In this -way spectra of the brighter stars rivalling in perfection and detail -those obtained of the spectrum of the sun itself thirty years ago -have been obtained. Such photographs have rendered a minute chemical -classification of the stars possible. - -One of the most interesting applications of photography to spectrum -analysis during the latter part of the century has been the utilization -by Messrs. Deslandres and Hale of a suggestion made by Janssen, that -by employing photography images of the sun and its surroundings can -be obtained in light on one wave length. In this way we can study -the distribution of any one of the chemical constituents of the sun -separately, and note its behavior, not only on the sun itself, but in -the atmosphere which enfolds the disk. - -It is strange that, in spite of the suggestions of Faye, and others -after him, one of the great advantages of the employment of photography -in astronomical work, namely, the abolition of “personal equation,” has -so far been almost entirely neglected. What “personal equation” is can -be perhaps illustrated by considering an observer who is observing the -transit of a star over the wires in a transit instrument. - -His object is to note the exact time, to a fraction of a second, when -a star passes each wire; and this is done by listening to the beats -of a clock near at hand and estimating the fractions. Some observers -constantly note the time either a little in advance or a little later -than the actual time, and this small distance between the observer -and the true times is more or less constant for each observer. This -difference has to be taken into account for every observation. Even -the use of the chronograph in transit work, by which the observation -is electrically recorded, does not entirely eliminate the error. -The photographic method of transit work has been experimented on, -but, so far as I know, it has not yet been used at more than one or -two observatories. It will doubtless eventually rid us of “personal -equation” entirely, for the star image may be photographed and the time -recorded by the same current of electricity. - -At the end of the century we could almost say that except in relation -to the work of the meridional observatories, photographic methods of -recording observations had become exclusively used. One of the cases -in which its utility is most in evidence is in the matter of eclipse -observations. Spectra of the sun’s surroundings containing a thousand -lines are taken in a second of time, thus replacing five or six -doubtful eye observations by wealth of results which have enabled the -recent vast progress to be secured. - - -CATALOGUES - -Catalogues of the stars were among the first scientific records -started by man, and so long as only the naked eye was used the work -was not difficult, as only approximate positions were attempted, -even by Hipparchus; but long before the eighteenth century dawned -the problem was entirely changed by the invention of the telescope -and by the provision of accurately divided circles; not only could -better positions be recorded, but the number of stars to be catalogued -was enormously increased, and, furthermore, other objects, nebulæ, -presented themselves in considerable numbers. - -In 1801 the star catalogues chiefly relied on were those of Lacaille, -containing about three thousand stars scattered over the whole heavens. - -Maskelyne, who was then Astronomer Royal, had published in 1790 -a catalogue of thirty-six fundamental stars, chiefly for the -purposes of navigation. The first great catalogue of the century -was the _Fundamenta Astronomiae_ of Bessel, produced in 1818. This -contained three thousand two hundred and twenty-two stars. The Bonn -_Durchmüsterung_, with its catalogue of three hundred and twenty-four -thousand one hundred and ninety-eight stars in the northern hemisphere, -and the corresponding atlas published in 1857–63, was the next -memorable achievement in this direction. For it we have to thank Bessel -and Argelander and a perfect system of work. - -Another monumental catalogue dealing with the stars in the southern -heavens has been that of the southern stars observed by Gould (1866). -While the century was closing, another catalogue, far more stupendous -than anything which could be conceived possible a few years ago, was -steadily being compiled. This we owe to the far-sightedness and energy -of Admiral Mouchez, a late director of the Paris Observatory. The work -was commenced in 1892. - -The whole heavens, north and south alike, have been divided into zones, -and the chief observatories on the earth’s surface are busy night after -night in taking photographs of that part intrusted to them. The whole -heavens are thus being made to write their autobiography, and the total -gain to the astronomy of the future of this most priceless record can -perhaps be scarcely grasped as yet, although the advantage of being -able at any point of future time to see on a photographic plate what -the heavens are telling now is sufficiently obvious. - -Catalogues of the stars have, of course, led to other minor catalogues -of various classes of stars, binary, variable, and the like. In the -later years catalogues of stars according to their spectra have -enriched science. - -The first extensive catalogue of stellar spectra was published by -Vogel. It dealt with four thousand and fifty-one stars, and appeared in -1883; it has since been followed by the Draper catalogue, based upon -photographs of the spectra, which contains a much larger number. With -regard to nebulæ, Herschel published his third catalogue in 1802. The -last catalogue of this nature is by Dreyer (1888), and contains seven -thousand eight hundred and forty of these objects. In the time of Tycho -they could be counted on the fingers of one hand. - - -INVESTIGATIONS OF SOME IMPORTANT ASTRONOMICAL CONSTANTS - -The nineteenth century was fruitful in the determination of many -numerical values which are all important in enabling us to determine -the distance and masses of the heavenly bodies, thereby giving us a -firm grasp not only of the dimensions of our own system, but of those -scattered in the celestial spaces. - -To take the distances first. We must begin with the exact measure of -the earth; for this we must measure the exact length of an arc of -meridian or of parallel—that is, a stretch of the earth’s surface -lying north and south or east and west, between places of which the -latitudes are accurately known in the former case, and the longitude in -the latter. In either case we can determine the number of miles which -go to a degree. Beginning at the opening of the nineteenth century with -an arc of meridian of two degrees measured by Gauss, from Göttingen to -Altona, the arcs of meridian grew longer as the century grew older, -till, at the close, the measurement of an arc of meridian from the Cape -to Cairo, embracing something like sixty-eight degrees of latitude, was -mooted. - -The measurements of arcs of parallel have been developed by the rapid -extension of telegraphic communications, which now permit the longitude -of the terminal stations to be determined with the greatest accuracy. - -Thanks to this work, we now have the size of our planet to a few miles. -The polar diameter is 41,709,790 feet, but the equator is not a circle: -the equatorial diameter from longitude 8 degrees 15 minutes west to -longitude 188 degrees 15 minutes west is 41,853,258 feet; that at right -angles to it is 41,850,210 feet—that is, some thousand yards shorter. -The earth, then, is shaped like an orange slightly squeezed. - -Knowing the earth’s diameter, we can obtain the sun’s distance by -several methods, the old one by observing transits of Venus, one of -which Cook went out to observe in 1768, and two of which recurred in -1874 and 1882; new ones by observations of Mars or one of the minor -planets at a favorable opposition, and by determining the velocity of -light. - -The recent discovery of a minor planet, Eros, which in one part of its -orbit is nearer the earth than Mars, has recently revived interest in -this method, and a combined attack is in contemplation. - -It has been long known that light has a finite velocity, but we had -to wait till the 60’s before Fizeau and Foucault showed us how to -determine its exact value. The methods introduced by them have been -recently applied by Cornu, Newcomb, and Michelson, and the resulting -value is slightly less than three hundred thousand metres per second. -Combining this with the constant of aberration, the distance of the sun -can be determined. - -It is wonderful how these vastly different methods agree in the -resulting mean distance. At the beginning of the century it stood -roughly at ninety-five million miles; this has been reduced to -ninety-three million nine hundred and sixty-five thousand miles. -The extreme difference between the old and new values of the solar -parallax, two-fifths of a second of arc, is represented by the apparent -breadth of a human hair viewed at a distance of about one hundred and -twenty-five feet. - -Knowing the distance of the sun, the way is open to us to determine, -by a method suggested by Galileo, the distances of those stars which -occupy a different position among their fellows, as seen from opposite -points in the earth’s orbit round the sun, points one hundred and -eighty-six million miles apart. We now know the distances of many such -stars, Bessel having determined the first in 1838. The nearest star -to us, so far as we know, is Centauri, the light of which takes four -and a half years to reach us. Not many years ago Pritchard applied -photography to this branch of inquiry; we may, therefore, expect a -still more rapid progress in the future. - -With regard to masses. We naturally must first know that of the earth; -having its size, if we can determine its density, the rest follows. - -The problem of determining the mean density of the earth occupied the -minds of many workers during the nineteenth century. Newton (about -1728) pointed out how it could be deduced by observing the deviation -from the vertical of a plumb-line suspended near a large mass of -matter—a mountain, the volume and density of which could be previously -determined. This method, which is very laborious and requires the -greatest skill and most delicate instruments, has been employed several -times, by Bouguer and Condamine, in 1738, at Chimborazo; Maskelyne, in -1774, at Schehallien in Scotland; and James, at Arthur’s Seat, near -Edinburgh. - -At the beginning of the century another method was introduced by -Cavendish. This consists in measuring the attraction of two large -spheres of known size and mass, such as two balls of lead on two very -small and light spheres, by means of a torsion balance constructed by -Mitchell for this purpose. - -The most recent determination by this method, and one which is -considered to give us perhaps the most accurate value, is that which -is due to the skill and ingenuity of Professor Boys. His improvement -consisted in constructing a most delicate torsion balance; the -attracted spheres consisted of small gold balls suspended by a quartz -fibre carrying a mirror to indicate the amount of twist. The whole -instrument was quite small, and could easily be protected from air -currents and changes of temperature, while the use of the quartz -fibres reduced to a minimum one of the greatest difficulties of the -Cavendish experiment. The value of the mean density of the earth is -now considered to be 5.6, which means that if we have a globe of water -exactly the same size as our own earth, the real earth would weigh -just 5.6 times this globe of water. The earth’s weight, in tons, -does not convey much idea, but that it is six thousand trillions may -interest the curious. This determination has enabled the masses of the -sun, moon, planets and satellites, and many sidereal systems to be -accurately known in relation to the mass of the earth. - - -SOME ACHIEVEMENTS OF MATHEMATICAL ANALYSIS - -Uranus, a planet unknown to the ancients, was discovered by its -movement among the stars by William Herschel in 1781. It was not until -1846 that another major planet was added to the solar system, and this -discovery was one of the sensations of the century. - -The story of the independent discovery of Neptune by Adams and Le -Verrier, who were both driven to the conclusion that certain apparent -regularities in the motion of Uranus were due to the attraction of -another body travelling on an orbit outside it, has been often told. -The subsequent discovery of the external body not far from the place at -which their mathematical analysis had led them to believe it would be -seen, will forever be regarded as a fine triumph of the human intellect. - -But the results of the inquiries which now concern us are generally -of not so sensational a character, although they lie at the root of -our knowledge of celestial motions. They more often take the shape of -tables and discussions relating to the movements of the bodies which -make up our solar system. - -Gauss may be said to have led the way during the nineteenth century by -his _Theoria molus corporum coelestium solem ambientium_. This was a -worthy sequel to the _Méchanique Céleste_, in which work, towards the -end of the eighteenth century, Laplace had enshrined all that was known -on the planetary results of gravitation. - -In later years Le Verrier and Newcomb have been among the chief workers -on whom the mantle of such distinguished predecessors has fallen. From -them the planet and satellite tables now in use have been derived. - -But the motion of our own satellite, the moon, has had fascinations for -other analysts besides those we have named. - -The problem, indeed, of the moon’s motion is one of the most difficult, -and has taxed the ingenuity of astronomers from an early date. Even at -the present day it is impossible to predict the exact position of the -moon at any one moment owing to inequalities and perturbations, the -exact varying values of which are not known. - -The two most important theories of the motion of the moon completed -towards the middle of the century were due to Hansen and Delaunay. -The former’s appeared in 1838, the lunar tables being published later -(1857), while the latter’s was published in 1860. - -Hansen’s theory had for its chief object the formation of tables; -to avoid the inconvenience of using in his calculations series which -slowly converge, he inserted numerical values throughout. In Hansen’s -solution the problem is one actually presented by nature, allowance -being made for every known cause of disturbance. There is one -disadvantage, namely, that should observations demand a change in any -of the constants used, there is no means of making any correction in -the results. - -Delaunay’s theory surmounted this difficulty, but at the expense -of still greater inconvenience for making an ephemeris. The slow -convergence of certain series involved an immense amount of labor to -give sufficiently approximate results. - -More recently, as the century was closing, Dr. Brown took up the -subject and made a fresh attempt to calculate the motion of our -satellite. It may be stated that he adopts all Delaunay’s modifications -of the problem and works them out algebraically; but there are many -technical differences which it would be out of place to mention here. - -Enough has been stated to show that there is not likely to be any -breach of continuity in the treatment of this most important problem. - -Another attack on the moon, and, incidentally, its motion, has recently -been made by another analyst, Professor George Darwin; grappling with -all the consequences of tidal friction, he has been able to present to -us the past and future history of our satellite. Beginning as a part of -the material congeries from which subsequently some fifty million years -ago both earth and moon, as separate bodies, were formed, it has ever -since been extending its orbit, and so retreating farther away from its -centre of motion, while the period of the earth’s rotation has been -increasing at the same time, from a possible period of some three hours -when the moon was born, to one of one thousand four hundred hours when -the day and month will be equal, something like one hundred and fifty -million years being required for the process. - - -STELLAR EVOLUTION - -It was only in the 80’s, after thousands of observations of the spectra -of stars, nebulæ, and comets had been secured, that the full meaning of -the revelations of the spectroscope began to dawn upon the world. - -Before the introduction of spectrum analysis all stars were supposed -to be suns, and the only difference recognized among them was one of -brilliancy and the variation of brilliancy in the case of some of them. - -It ultimately came out that great classes might be recognized by -the differences of their spectra, which were ultimately traced to -differences in their chemistry and in their temperature, as determined -by the extension of the spectra in the ultra-violet, the whiter stars -being hotter than the red ones, as a white-hot poker is hotter than a -red-hot poker. - -Next there was evidence to show that a large proportion of the stars -were not stars at all like the sun, but swarms of meteorites; and in -this way the mysterious new stars which appear from time to time in -the heavens, and a large number of variable stars, were explained as -arising from collisions among such swarms. - -The inquiry which dealt with the spectroscopic results, having thus -introduced the ideas of meteor swarms and collisions to explain many -stellar phenomena, went further and showed that the various chemical -changes observed in passing from star to star might also be explained -by supposing the whole stellar constitution to arise from cool -meteoritic swarms represented by nebulæ, the changes up to a certain -point being explained by a rise of temperature due to condensation -towards a centre. Here the new view was opposed to that of Laplace, -advanced during the last century, that the stars were produced by -condensation and cooling; but Kelvin had shown, before the new view -was enunciated, that Laplace’s view was contrary to thermodynamics, -a branch of science which had developed since Laplace published his -famous _Exposition du Système du Monde_. - -After all the meteorites in the parent swarm had been condensed into -the central gaseous mass, that mass had to cool. So that we had in -the heavens not only stars more or less meteoritic in structure, -of _rising_ temperature, but stars chiefly gaseous, of falling -temperature. It was obvious that representatives of both these classes -of stars might have nearly the same mean effective temperature, and -therefore more or less the same spectrum. A minute inquiry entirely -justified these conclusions. - -So far had the detailed chemistry of the stars been carried in the -latter years of the century that the question of stellar evolution gave -rise to that of inorganic evolution generally, the sequence in the -phenomena of which can only be studied in the stars, for laboratory -work without stint has shown that in them we have celestial furnaces, -the heat of which transcends that of our most powerful electric sparks. -In this way astronomy is paying the debt she owes to chemistry. - - -THE SUN AND HIS SYSTEM - -Although the outer confines of space have, as we have seen, been -compelled to bring their tribute of new knowledge by means of the -penetrating power possessed by modern telescopes, and the cameras and -spectroscopes attached to them, the study of the _near_ has by no means -been neglected, and for the reason that in astronomy especially we must -content ourselves in the case of the more distant bodies by surmising -what happens in them from the facts gathered in the region where alone -detailed observations are possible. - -Thus what we can learn about the sun helps to explain what we discern -much more dimly in the case of stars; a study of the moon’s face we -are compelled to take as showing us the possibilities relating to the -surface condition of other satellites so far removed from us that they -only appear as points of light. - -To begin, then, with the sun. Where a volume might be written, a few -words must suffice. I have already stated that at the beginning of the -nineteenth century the prevailing opinion was that it was a habitable -globe. It was limited to the fiery ball we see. At the end of the -century it is a body of the fiercest heat, and the ball we see is only -a central portion of a huge and terribly interesting mechanism, the -outer portions of which heave and throb every eleven years. Spots, -prominences, corona, everything feels this throbbing. - -Although the discovery of spots on the sun was among Galileo’s first -achievements, it was reserved for the last half of the nineteenth -century to demonstrate their almost perfect periodicity. - -Thanks to the labors of Schwabe, Wolf, Carrington, and De la Rue, -Stewart, and Loewy, we now know that every eleven years the spots wax -and wane; Tacchini and Ricco, during the last thirty years, have proved -that the prominences follow suit, and the fact that the corona also -obeys the same law was established during the American eclipse of 1878. - -The study of solar physics consists in watching and recording the -thermal, chemical, and other changes which accompany this period. Some -of these effects can be best studied during those times when the ball -itself is covered by the moon in an eclipse. Then the outer portions of -the sun are revealed in all their beauty and majesty, and all the world -goes to see. - -But it is the quiet daily work in the laboratory which has enabled us -to study the sun’s place in relation to the other stars, and so to -found a chemical classification of all the stars that shine. - -From the sun we may pass to his system, and first consider the nearest -body to us—the moon. - -While some astronomers have been discussing the movements and evolution -of our satellite, others have been engaged upon maps of its surface, -upon questions dealing with a lunar atmosphere, or a study of the -origin of the present conformations and of possible changes. The -science of selenology may be said to have been founded by Schröter -at the beginning of the century, but it required the application of -photography in later years to put it on a firm basis. Maps of the moon -have been prepared by Lohrmann, Beer and Mädler, and Schmidt, the -latter showing the positions of more than thirty thousand craters. - -Very erroneous notions are held by some as to what we may hope to do -in the examination of the moon’s surface by a powerful telescope. A -power of a thousand enables us to see it as if we were looking at -York from London. It is recorded that Lassell once said that with his -largest reflector in a “fit” of the finest definition he thought he -might be able to detect whether a carpet as large as Lincoln’s Inn -Fields was round or square. Under these circumstances, then, we may -well understand that the question of changes on the surface has been -raised from time to time never to be absolutely settled one way or the -other. By many the existence of an atmosphere is denied, and this is a -condition which would negative changes, anything like the geological -changes brought about on the surface of the earth, but the idea is now -held by many that there is still an atmosphere, though of great tenuity. - -The last few years of the century were rendered memorable from the -lunar point of view by the publication and minute study of a most -admirable series of photographs of the moon obtained by the great -equatorial Coudé of the Paris Observatory by Loewy and Puiseaux. -One of the chief points aimed at has been to determine the sequence -of the various events represented by the rills, craters, and walled -plains, the mountain ranges and seas. This work is still in progress, -the fourth part of the atlas being published in 1900; but enough has -already appeared to indicate that the results of the inquiry when -completed will be of the most important kind. The authors have already -come to the conclusion that the lunar and terrestrial sea-bottoms -much resemble each other, inasmuch as both have convex surfaces. The -lunar seas began by sinking of vast regions; the formidable volcanic -eruptions of which the moon has been the scene have taken place in -times equivalent to those labelled “recent” in geological parlance. -There is evidence that the axis of the moon has undergone great -displacements, and four great periods of change have been made out. -Finally they state that there is serious ground to believe that there -is an atmosphere of some sort remaining. - -It may readily be understood that with each increase of optical power -new satellites of the various planets have been discovered. Soon after -the discovery of Neptune a satellite was noted by Lassell. In 1846 -both he and the eagle-eyed observer Dawes independently discovered -another satellite (Hyperion) of Saturn. Lassell was rewarded in the -next year by the discovery of two more satellites of Uranus; but, -strangest observation of all, in 1877 Hall discovered at Washington -two satellites of Mars some six or seven miles only in diameter, one -of them revolving round the planet in seven and one-half hours at a -distance of less than four thousand miles. As the day on Mars is not -far different in duration from our own, this tiny satellite must rise -in the west and south three times a day! - -Wonderful as this discovery was, it is certainly not less wonderful -when we consider it in connection with a passage in _Gulliver’s -Travels_, so true is it that truth is stranger than fiction. Swift, -in his satirical reference to the inhabitants of Laputa, writes: -“They have likewise discovered two lesser stars, or satellites, which -revolve round Mars, whereof the innermost is distant from the centre -of the primary planet exactly three of his diameters and the outermost -five; the former revolves in the space of ten hours; and the latter in -twenty-one and a half.” - -The last discovery of this kind has been that of an inner satellite of -Jupiter by Barnard in 1892. - -The planets from Mercury to Saturn were known to the ancients. I -have already referred to the discovery of Uranus by Herschel’s giant -telescope, not long before the nineteenth century was born, and of -Neptune, by analysis, towards the end of the first half of the century. -With regard to what modern observations have done in regard to their -physical appearance, the first place in general interest must be given -to Saturn and Mars. - -Saturn has always been regarded as the most interesting of the -planetary family on account of its unique rings. Many subdivisions of -the rings, and a dusky ring, first seen by Dawes and Bond, have been -discovered during the last sixty years. - -The meteoritic nature of the rings was suggested by Clerk Maxwell in -1857, and Keeler’s demonstration of the truth of this view by means -of the spectroscope, a few years ago, was brilliant in conception and -execution. - -But during the last half of the century the interest centred in Mars -has been gradually increasing. The drawings made during the opposition -of 1862, when compared with those made by Beer and Mädler (1830–40), -made it perfectly clear that in this planet we had to deal with one -strangely like our own in many respects. There were obviously land and -water surfaces; the snow at the poles melted in the summer-time; clouds -were seen forming from time to time, and the changing tones of the -water surfaces suggested fine and rough weather. - -Afterwards came the revelation of the hawk-eyed Schiaparelli, beginning -in the year 1877, and his wonderful map of the planet’s surface. The -land surfaces, instead of being unbroken, were cut up, as an English -farm is cut up by hedges; straight lines of different breadths and -tints crossed the land surfaces in all directions, and at times some of -them appeared double. Schiaparelli naturally concluded that they were -rivers—water channels—and being an Italian he used the appropriate -word _canali_. This, unfortunately, as it turned out, was translated -_canals_. Now canals are dug, _ergo_ there were diggers. From this the -demonstration, not of the habitability, but of the actual habitation, -of Mars was a small step, and the best way of signalling to newly found -kinsmen across some thirty millions of miles of space was discussed. - -The world of science owes a debt of gratitude to Mr. Percival Lowell -for having taken out to the pure air and low latitude of Arizona an -eighteen-inch telescope for the sole purpose of accumulating facts -tending to throw light upon this newly raised question. This he did -in 1894. Schiaparelli has continued his magnificent observations -through each opposition when the planet is most favorably situated for -observation, and since 1896 Signor Cerulli, armed with a fifteen-inch -Cooke, in the fine climate of Italy, has joined in the inquiry, so -that facts are now being rapidly accumulated. It has been stated that -markings similar to the strange so-called “canals” on Mars are to be -seen on Mercury, Venus, and even on the satellites of Jupiter. Mr. -Percival Lowell does not hesitate to proclaim himself in favor of their -being due, _in Mars_, to an intelligent system of irrigation. Signor -Cerulli claims that _wherever seen_ they are mere optical effects. -We may be well content to leave to the twentieth century a general -agreement on this interesting subject. - -Finally, in our survey of our own system, come comets and meteor -swarms. One of the most fruitful discoveries of the century, that -comets are meteor swarms, we owe to the genius of Schiaparelli, A. H. -Newton, and other workers on those tiny celestial messengers which give -rise to the phenomena of “falling” or “shooting” stars. - -The magnificent displays of 1799, 1833, 1866, and, alas! that which -failed to come in 1899, we now know must be associated with Tempel’s -Comet. This is by no means the only case so far established; the -connection will in the future be closer still when the orbits of the -various swarms observed throughout the year shall be better known. - -Comets which attract public attention by their brightness and grandeur -of form are rather rare, and, in fact, only twenty-five of such have -been seen since 1800. We have, however, with the great advance in -instrumental equipment, been able to discover many which are scarcely -visible to the naked eye, and this has swollen the number of comets -very considerably. In the seventeenth century we find that only -thirty-two were observed, while in the eighteenth this number was more -than doubled (seventy-two). In the nineteenth century more than three -hundred were placed on record, which is practically more than four -times the number seen in the eighteenth. - -The last great comet visible any considerable time was that discovered -by Donati in 1858, and so carefully observed by Bond. It is unfortunate -that since the importance, in so many directions, of spectroscopic -observations of comets has been recognized they have been conspicuous -by their absence. - - -THE CONNECTION BETWEEN SOLAR AND TERRESTRIAL WEATHER - -Everybody agrees that all the energy utilized on this planet of ours, -with the single exception of that supplied by the tides, comes from -the sun. We are all familiar with the changes due to the earth’s daily -rotation bringing us now on the side of our planet illuminated by -the sun, then plunging us into darkness; that changes of season must -necessarily follow from the earth’s yearly journey round the sun is -universally recognized. - -On the other hand, it is a modern idea that those solar phenomena which -prove to us considerable changes of temperature in the sun itself, -may, and indeed should, be echoed by changes on our planet, giving us -thereby an eleven-year period to be considered, as well as a year and a -day. - -This response of the earth to solar changes was first observed in the -continuous records of those instruments which register for us the -earth’s magnetism at any one place. The magnetic effects were strongest -when there were more spots, taking them as indicators of solar changes. -Lamont first (without knowing it) made this out, at the beginning of -the latter half of the century (1851), from the Göttingen observations -of the daily range of the declination needle. Sabine the next year not -only announced the same cycle in the violence of the “magnetic storms” -observed at Toronto, but at once attributed them to solar influence, -the two cycles running concurrently. It is now universally recognized -that terrestrial magnetic effects, including auroræ, minutely echo the -solar changes. - -The eleven-year period is not one to be neglected. - -Next comes the inquiry in relation to meteorology. Sir William -Herschel, in the first year of the century, when there were practically -neither sun-spot nor rainfall observations available, did not hesitate -to attack the question whether the price of wheat was affected by the -many-or-few-spot solar condition. He found the price to be high when -the sun was spotless, and _vice versa_. - -By 1872, however, we had both rainfall and sun-spot observations, -and the cycle of the latter had been made out. Meldrum, the most -distinguished meteorologist living at the time, and others, pronounced -that the rainfall was greatest at sun-spot maximum, and, further, that -the greatest number of cyclones occurred in the East and West Indies at -such times. - -This result with regard to rainfall was not generally accepted, but -Chambers showed shortly afterwards an undoubted connection between the -cycles of solar spots and barometric pressure in the Indian area. - -By means of a study of the widened lines observed in sun spots an -attempt has been recently made to study the temperature, history of the -sun since about 1877, and the years of mean temperature and when the -heat was in excess (+) and defect (-) made out, have been as follows: - - Heat - condition mean + mean − mean + mean − mean - Years 1869 1876 1881 1886–87 1891–92 - 1870–75 1877–80 1882–86 1881–91 1892 - -Having these solar data, the next thing to do was to study the Indian -rainfall during the southwest monsoon for the years 1877–1886, the -object being to endeavor to ascertain if the + and − temperature pulses -in the sun were echoed by + and − pulses of rainfall. The Indian -rainfall was taken first because in the tropics the phenomena are -known to be the simplest. It was found that in many parts of India the -+ and − conditions of solar temperature were accompanied by + and − -pulses, producing pressure changes and heavy rains in the Indian Ocean -and the surrounding land. These occurred generally in the first year -following the mean condition, that is, in 1877–78 and 1882–83. - -The rainfalls at Mauritius, Cape Town, and Batavia were next collated -to see if the pulses felt in India were traceable in other regions -surrounding the Indian Ocean to the south and east. This was found to -be the case. - -A wider inquiry was followed, we are told, with equal success, so that -we are justified in hoping that the question of the dependence of -terrestrial upon solar weather has made a step in advance. - -But just as the general public and practical men took little heed of -the connection between sun spots and magnetism until experience taught -them that telegraphic messages often could not “get through” when -there were many sun spots, so the same public will not consider the -connection in regard to meteorology unless the forecasting of droughts -and famines be possible. - -The recent work suggests that, if the recent advances in solar physics -be considered, the inquiries regarding rainfall may be placed on a -firmer basis than they could possibly have had in 1872, and that such -forecastings may become possible. - -What was looked for in 1872 was a change in the quantity of rain at -maximum sun spots only, the idea being that there might be an effective -change of solar temperature, either in excess or defect, at such times -and that there would be a gradual and continuous variation from maximum -to maximum. - -We see that the rainfalls referred to above justify the conclusions -derived from the recent work that two effects ought to be expected in a -sun-spot cycle instead of one. There was excess of rainfall, not only -near the sun-spot maximum, but near the minimum. - -If the authors of this communication to which I refer are right, then -droughts and famines occur in India because the rain pulses, which are -associated with the solar-heat pulses, are of short duration. When -they cease the quantity of rain which falls in the Indian area is not -sufficient, without water storage, for the purposes of agriculture; -they are followed, therefore, by droughts, and at times subsequently by -famines. They divide the period 1877—89 as under: - - - { 1877. - Rain from − pulse { 1878. - { 1879 (part). - - { 1879 (part). - No rain pulse { 1880 (central year). - { 1881 (part). - - { 1881 (part). - { 1882. - Rain from + pulse { 1883. - { 1884 (part). - - { 1884 (part). - { 1885 } - No rain pulse { 1886 } (central year). - { 1887 (part). - - { 1887 (part). - Rain from − pulse { 1888. - { 1889. - -Their statement is based on the fact that all the famines which have -devastated India for the last seventy years have occurred at intervals -of eleven years, or thereabouts, working backward and forward from the -central years 1880 and 1885–86 in the above table, the middle years, -that is, between the pulses. - -Mr. Willcocks, in a paper read at the Meteorological Congress at -Chicago, remarked that “famines in India are generally years of low -flood in Egypt.” - -It is now pointed out that the highest Niles follow the years of the + -and − pulses, as does the highest rainfall in the Indian area. - -Even if these results, which were communicated to the Royal Society -of London five weeks before the end of the century, be confirmed, it -may be pointed out that Sir William Herschel’s suggestion of 1801 will -have required a whole century for its fulfilment, so slowly do those -branches of science move which have not already led to some practical -development. - - NORMAN LOCKYER. - - - - -PHILOSOPHY - - -It is a natural illusion that makes us think of each century as -exhibiting the continuous development of one tendency of mind through -a series of stages whose differences are only of secondary importance, -and, on the other hand, to regard the steps from one century to another -as corresponding to some marked transition of thought, as if the world -had been suddenly precipitated into a new sphere of existence. For -some purposes a rough generalization of this kind, that breaks at -stated intervals the continuity of time, may, perhaps, be convenient. -When, however, we begin to look at things more closely, we discover -that it is impossible thus to cut through the historical connection of -events, as it were, “with a hatchet.” We discover, for example, that -the characteristics of the eighteenth century were strongly marked -only in one period of it; and that what we call the spirit of the -nineteenth century was born some time before the year 1800, and has -never quite prevailed over other tendencies. At the same time, there is -an important difference indicated by these two loosely used names, and -as it is always easier to define things by contrast, it may help us to -make our subject more definite to consider what they mean. - - -I - -It is too late now to “abuse the eighteenth century,” which had its -good and evil, like other periods. It is commonly conceived as the -era of individualism and analysis, the era of logical enlightenment -and sceptical criticism; and, again, as the era of liberation from -groundless superstitions and fictitious claims of authority; the era -in which mankind seemed for the first time to throw off the weight -of the past and to enter without fear upon the enjoyment of their -earthly heritage. The science of Newton had given the last blow to -the astronomy that made the earth the centre of the universe. It had -undermined and discredited the simple theology that explained the -whole material world as a cosmos arranged for the supply of human -needs. At the same time, the progress of biology was bringing man to a -consciousness that as a physical being he is only _primus inter pares_ -in the animal kingdom, and the decay of religious belief was making him -realize his finitude, the limits of his natural existence, as, perhaps, -he had never done before, at least never since the beginning of the -Christian era. Earth seemed to be disconnected from heaven, and the -human race thrown upon its own resources. By the new enlightenment all -powers, ecclesiastical or political, were stripped of the mysterious -sanctity that had once invested them. “The nimbus was taken away from -the heads of the gods and rulers of the world.” Every authority that -claimed man’s homage was weighed in the scales of the understanding, -and, so weighed, every such authority was found wanting. The State had -come to be regarded as only a collection of individuals who had agreed -to live together under a ruler deriving all his claims from their -consent, and invested with no divine right to their allegiance. The -Church was no longer a sacred institution governed by priests who held -their commission directly from God, but only a sort of spiritual police -agency, an ally of the State in the restraint of vice and crime, or, -at best, in Protestant countries, a society for mutual improvement. -Men were “free and equal,” each standing face to face with his -fellows, admitting no superiority or superstition of hero-worship in -regard to any one of them. And the Deity, if his existence were not -denied, tended to become a mere “Supreme Being,” who was removed to -such a distance from mankind that he could hardly be reached by their -reverence, still less by their love. - -At the same time, the influences which, in one point of view, seemed to -limit and narrow human existence, in another point of view tended to -liberate and enlarge it. If they excluded the idea of the infinite from -man’s life, they emancipated him from many degrading superstitions, -which in an earlier age had held him “all his lifetime subject to -bondage.” And as the pressure from above was lightened the individual -seemed to become master of himself and of his destiny. If the king -could no longer say, “_L’Etat c’est moi_,” the rights of the subject -were vindicated; if the authority of the Church was weakened, the bonds -of free inquiry were broken; if imagination ceased to fill men with the -awe and wonder of higher powers, the way was opened up for scientific -and industrial development; if God was regarded as unknowable, “the -proper study of mankind was man,” and that study could now be pursued -without fear or hinderance. Poetry and religion might be impoverished, -the sense of the binding force of social relations might be weakened, -but interest in the bettering of man’s earthly condition was awakened, -and with it came a new desire for justice to all, a new intolerance -of human suffering, and a new demand that the lot of the class “which -is most numerous and poor” should be made less wretched and insecure, -and, towards the end of the century, a new turn was given to its -leading thought, for an effort was made to discover in the nature of -the individual himself the equivalent of those universal powers which -the enlightenment had banished from the external world and from the -life of society. Rousseau carried individualism to an extreme point, -at which it became its own correction, and taught men to find _within_ -their own souls the infinite which they could no longer discover -_without_. Rejecting in the first instance all social conventions as -unjust limitations of the natural man, and adopting the prevailing -theory of the time, that the State is only the product of a contract -between independent persons, he yet discovered in the individual thus -liberated from all external pressure a “common reason,” and “a general -will,” which could reorganize his life and bind him to his fellow-men -and to God. This great idea, which appears in Rousseau rather as a -stroke of insight, an intuition of genius—lifting him above his -first thoughts and insensibly changing their meaning—was grasped -by Kant as the principle of a new philosophy and worked out in a -comprehensive system that dealt with all the great problems of thought -and life. Kant, indeed, seemed, like Rousseau, to begin on the plane -of eighteenth-century individualism, but, influenced as he was by the -philosophy of Leibnitz, he from the first conceived the individual as -in himself universal; or, to speak more exactly, as having a universal -principle realized in him. Thus, though in one aspect of his being man -is a finite object among other objects, confined within limits of space -and time, and forming only a link in the chain of natural causation, -in another aspect of it, as a conscious self, he is emancipated -from all these limitations. For—such is Kant’s argument—a knowing -subject, for whom the whole finite world, including his own finite -existence, is an object of knowledge, cannot himself be comprehended -in that world or limited by any of its conditions. As there can be no -world of objects except for a self, it is impossible that such a self -should be merely one of these objects. Thus, as knowing, or capable -of knowing, all things, man cannot be identified with any of them; -or if, from one point of view, as an individual, he is so identified, -yet he has within him a universal principle that carries him beyond -the limits of his individuality. And this contrast shows itself also -in his practical life. For if as an object he appears to be but an -animal organism, moved by the impressions of pleasure and pain which -he receives from other objects, yet in his inner moral life man is -revealed to himself as a self-determining subject, emancipated from all -sensuous motives and from the necessity of nature which they bring with -them, and conscious of subordination only to the law of duty, which is -the law of his own reason. And that law, in spite of every pressure of -circumstance from without, and of every impulse of passion from within, -he knows that he ought to obey, and therefore he knows that he _can_ -obey it. Thus, in Kant’s theory, the two extreme views of humanity, as -natural and as spiritual, as limited to a finite individuality, hemmed -in by necessities on every side, and yet as possessing a universal -capacity of knowing, and an absolute power of self-determination, -these two views are presented in sharp antithesis, and at the same -time held together as different aspects of one life. In fact, we have -here, as it were, compressed into a nutshell, the result of the whole -history of eighteenth-century individualism, which began by depressing -man and ended by exalting him; which, with one of its voices, seemed -to reduce him to the level of an animal, a mere part of the partial -world, a transitory phenomenal existence among other phenomena; and -then, with its other voice, proceeded to recognize him as a member of -the intelligible world, a “spectator of all time and existence,” and -gifted with the absolute freedom of a will which could be determined -by nothing but itself. “The solitary,” says Aristotle, “must be either -a god or a beast,” and the eighteenth century, in its conception of -the individual, seemed to oscillate between the one and the other -till Kant, awaking to the impossibility of omitting either aspect of -his being, demanded that he should be conceived as both at once. Kant -thus set the problem of the future; and if he did not solve it, he -at least showed the futility of any narrow or one-sided solution and -the direction in which an adequate solution could alone be sought. In -short, Kant asked the question to which the nineteenth century, in all -its philosophical reflection, has been striving to find an answer. - -For in philosophy, as in other departments of knowledge, the work of -the nineteenth century has been one of mediation and reconciliation. -It has been an endeavor to break down the sharp antithesis of -philosophical and scientific theories that was characteristic of an -earlier time. In the writings of the greatest thinkers, the oppositions -of materialism and spiritualism, of sensationalism and idealism, of -empiricism and _a priori_ speculation, of individualism and socialism, -all the great oppositions of theoretical and practical philosophy, -which formerly were held to be absolute and irreconcilable, have -been modified, restated, reduced to the _relative_ antagonism of the -different aspects of one truth. The great controversies of the past -have thus passed into a new phase, in which absolute statements _pro_ -and _con_ have become, as it were, antiquated; and the question is -no longer whether a particular doctrine or its opposite is true, but -what are the elements of truth and error in each of them, and how we -can attain to a comprehensive view of things, in which justice is done -to both. And if it be asked, what are the principles or ideas that -have suggested this reconciling work, and have been the guides of the -greatest scientific or philosophic writers in attempting to achieve -it, I think the answer must be that they are _the idea of organic -unity_, and, as implied in that, _the idea of development_. Goethe and -Hegel, in Germany; Comte, in France; Darwin and Spencer, in England, -are writers who almost span the whole range of difference in modern -thought; but they, and a multitude of others in every department of -study, have been inspired by the ideas of organism and development. -And they have all used them somewhat in the same way to turn the edge -of the old controversial weapons, or to lift thought above the “yes” -and “no” of opposing dogmatisms. It is true that the definitions or -interpretations of the ideas of organism and development given by these -writers are very different, and often, indeed, so sharply opposed that -they seem to bring back the old controversies in a new form. But this -does not alter the significance of the general fact; for, in the first -place, the use of an idea by any writer is by no means always limited -by his own interpretation of it; and, in the second place, the true -interpretation of the idea is that which contains the secret of its -power and prevalence, and it must in the long run gain the victory over -all other interpretations of it. We may, therefore, fairly say that -these ideas have been the marked ideas of the century, the conscious -or unconscious stimulus of its best thought; and that they have been -working, and are working still, in the direction of a deeper and more -comprehensive irenicon between the different tendencies of the human -mind than has been attained in any previous stage of the history of -philosophy. - -Against such a general characterization of an age, there is the same -objection which Burke indicated when he said that “he could not draw up -an indictment against a nation.” We are taking a distant and general -view of a period, in which all its inequalities of movement, all the -ebb and flow of opinion, are lost sight of, and only one main current -of thought is visible. We may get a step nearer to the subject by -distinguishing three periods in the century, in which there is a -partial difference of tendency. The first period, which we may roughly -define as lasting well on into the 30’s, is, in the main, a period of -construction, of creative thought, in which the great germinating ideas -that distinguished the century are more or less adequately expressed -in different countries, and in which they receive a first, somewhat -hasty, application to all departments of human knowledge. Idealistic -philosophy, which gave the fullest expression to those ideas, seems -for a time to carry all before it in Germany; and a similar movement -of thought, less definitely reflective or speculative, enriches the -literature of other countries. In the next period, lasting until the -70’s, the new ideas do not lose their hold upon men’s minds, but there -is a certain critical recoil against them, a tendency to explain -them away. The first premature synthesis of idealistic philosophy is -attacked by a scepticism, which seems at times as if it would measure -back the whole way to the individualistic materialism of an earlier -age, or which only avoids that extreme to fall into a scientific -agnosticism, at first sight even more hostile to the claims of -philosophy. But the lesson of Kant could never be altogether forgotten, -nor could the negative or sceptical tendencies of the _Critique of Pure -Reason_ be permanently separated from the positive results of his later -writings. And the great scientific movement of the time, which at first -seemed to draw away all interest from speculative inquiry, tended in -the long run, especially by the advance of biological study, to raise -metaphysical questions which the methods of science were incapable of -answering. Hence, in the latest decades of the century, there has come -a revival of interest in philosophy, and especially in the idealistic -philosophy of its first years. But if philosophy has revived, it is -in a more critical and cautious form, and accompanied by a clear -consciousness that the only true idealism is that which is able to -absorb and assimilate all the data supplied by empirical investigation, -and do justice to all the results of the special sciences. The general -movement of thought in the nineteenth century has thus, on the whole, -taken an idealistic direction; but there has come with it also a deeper -consciousness of the immense difficulty of a comprehensive synthesis; -of the inefficacy of any easy monism or optimism, that would pluck -the fruit of knowledge before it is ripe; of the infinite labor and -patience, the sympathetic appreciation of the opposing views of others, -and constant and unsparing criticism of our own, which are needed for -the construction of a true philosophy. - - -II - -In a short article like this, it is impossible to give more than a -few indications of the way in which this three-fold _schema_ of the -history of nineteenth-century philosophy should be filled up. To give -any definite impression, the writer must, so to speak, put on the -seven-leagued boots of Jack the Giant Killer; in other words, however -conscious he may be of the truth that _dolus latet in generalibus_, he -must generalize and be content to mention only a few leading names in -illustration of the tendencies of thought of which he speaks. - -It is the instinct of each new generation to vindicate its freedom -by rebelling against the authority of its predecessors; and when a -new idea begins to influence human thought, it usually, on its first -appearance, shows that side which is most antagonistic to the spirit -of the past. Thus the peculiar nineteenth-century movement begins with -a reassertion of the _universal_ as against the _individual_, which -is so emphatic that it looks like a return to Spinozism. Schelling is -the most prominent philosophical representative of this tendency. In -the works which he wrote about the beginning of the century, he broke -away even from the universalized individualism of Fichte, and gave -emphatic prominence to the great philosophical commonplace—which had -been almost forgotten by the previous age—that there is an identity -which is below or above all distinction, and that the universe is one -through all its multiplicity, and permanent through all its changes. -His maxim—that there are none but _quantitative_ differences in -things, and that all these, even the difference of mind and matter, -disappear in the “indifference” of the Absolute—was like a declaration -of war against the “enlightenment.” It meant that philosophy was no -longer content to regard the whole as the sum of the parts, but could -look upon the distinction of the parts only as a differentiation of -the whole. With Schelling, indeed, this differentiation was in danger -of being reduced to a mere appearance and the unity of the Absolute -was on the point of vanishing in a bare or abstract identity. But his -strong assertion of the unity beneath all difference, of the priority -of the universal to all particulars, was perhaps necessary, ere the -true conception of the organic unity of the world could be arrived -at. And the correction soon came with Hegel, who maintained that the -absolute is “not substance, but subject.” For this meant that the -absolute is a self-differentiating principle, realizing itself in a -world of difference which is no mere appearance, but its own essential -manifestation; and again—what is the counterpart or complementary -truth to this—that in the world there are “degrees of reality,” and -that “mind is higher in degree than nature.” But these ideas could -hardly have been understood until the uncompromising assertion of the -absolute unity had been made, and until the subjectivity of the Kantian -and Fichtean points of view had once for all been set aside. - -The philosophy of Hegel derives its power from the way in which -it strikes what, as I have already said, was the key-note of the -nineteenth-century philosophy. In the first place, it is a philosophy -of reconciliation, which attempts, through a criticism of the -oppositions of philosophical theory, to reach a point of view in -which they are all seen to be subordinated to the unity of one -principle. His attack upon the “law of contradiction,” as formulated -by scholastic logicians, meant simply that absolute distinctions are -unmeaning, and that the only real differences are differences within -a unity. On this principle he tried to show that all the oppositions -of thought and things which have found expression in philosophy are -relative oppositions, which find a solution or reconciliation in the -life and movement of the whole. Hence he maintained that in all the -great controversies that have divided the world, in metaphysics and -psychology, in ethics and theology, the combatants have really been -co-operators. Both sides, to use the expression of Leibnitz, have been -“right in what they affirmed and wrong only in what they denied.” -And their conflict has been the means of the evolution of a fuller -truth than that which was contained in the doctrine of either party. -In the second place, Hegel is guided throughout by the conception of -the universe—and, in a sense, of every even relatively independent -existence in it—as an organism, every element in which implies the -whole, every change in which is a phase of its self-evolution. For -his logical doctrine of the “_notion_” (as _Begriff_ is commonly -translated) means simply that we do not see anything truly until -we comprehend it as a whole, in which one principle manifests -itself through all the difference of the parts and—just through -their distinctions and their relations—binds itself into one -individual—reality. In this sense, everything just so far as it has -an independent individual existence at all is an organism. Lastly, -while thus conceiving the universe as organic, Hegel maintained that -it is not a natural but a spiritual organism. For the limited scope of -a natural organism and its process cannot be regarded as commensurate -with a universe, which comprehends all existence, whether classed as -organic or inorganic. Only the conscious and self-conscious unity -of mind can overreach and overcome such extreme antagonisms, and -reduce them all to elements in the realization of its own life. We -must, therefore, think of the universe as an organism which includes -nature, but manifests its ultimate principle only in the life of man. -We may add that in all this Hegel attempted to show that he was only -working out in the sphere of speculative thought what Christianity had -already expressed for the ordinary consciousness, according to its -half-pictorial methods of representation. - -While this is the general meaning of Hegelianism, it must be added -that Hegel was more successful in formulating these ideas in their -logical or metaphysical form than in applying them to the results of -the special sciences of nature, which he only knew at second hand; or -even to the different provinces of the spiritual life and history of -man, which he had studied more thoroughly. In both cases his data were -very incomplete, and the scientific interpretation of them had not then -been carried far enough to prepare—as, according to Hegel himself, it -should prepare—for the final interpretation of philosophy. There is -another circumstance to be taken into account, a circumstance which -deeply affected Hegel and all the writers of his time. In the slow -process of human history the new wine is always at first poured into -old bottles, and only when the old bottles burst is an effort made -to find new ones that will contain it safely. Hence the development -of the new spirit in philosophy seemed often to go hand-in-hand with -a movement of restoration in politics and religion which was not -easily distinguishable from reaction. Just as the politicians of the -time could find for the newly awakened spirit of nationality no other -embodiment than the institutions of the ancient _régime_, and tried -to revive the old system destroyed by the Revolution, with only a -few repairs and additions, so the great philosophical writers sought -generally to reanimate the old scheme of life and thought by means of -the new ideas, rather than completely to recast it in accordance with -them. Hence, although Hegel’s _principle_ of evolution was as hostile -to reaction as to revolution, as hostile to an authoritative system -that denied the rights of the individual as to mere individualism, his -particular doctrines, both in politics and theology, took a strongly -conservative tinge. When we look more closely we see that it is only as -restoration is at the same time reformation, as it makes the old forms -the expression of a new life, that Hegel could logically defend them. -But the form which he gave to his ideas was perplexing; it tended in -many minds to identify the principle of development, which means that -the future can only spring _out_ of the past and the present, with the -defence of the _status quo_ in Church and State; and, on the other -hand, to confuse the forces of progress with those of revolution. Thus -the mediating, reconciling power of the new doctrine was for a time -obscured, and its effect in raising men’s minds above the old levels of -controversy was delayed. - - -III - -In other countries during the earlier decades of the century a similar -movement of thought is discernible, though it was not carried out -anywhere with the same philosophical thoroughness as in Germany. In -France the organic idea did not find any very powerful representative -till the time of Comte, and even in his expression of it there is a -certain ambiguity. In his well-known law of development, indeed, he -seems to reproduce the individualistic doctrine of the eighteenth -century, and to deny the reality of the _universal_, both in its -theological and its philosophical form. But already in the last volume -of his _Positive Philosophy_, when he begins to deal with human -society, he maintains that “the individual man is an abstraction, -and that there is nothing real but humanity”; and in his _Positive -Politics_ he treats this unity of mankind as not only real, but divine. -In that work, moreover, he makes another step. Rejecting at once the -obstructions of the individualists and those of the socialists, he -rises to the conception of a social organism, which gives play to -the competitive energy of individuals, and yet binds them together -in its own more comprehensive life. In England, before the close of -the eighteenth century, the same spirit had found a representative -in Burke, who rejected entirely the idea of a social contract, and -maintained that the State is based on an unconscious reason of -society, which is far wiser than the conscious reason of even the -wisest individuals. In general, however, the spiritualistic movement -of the earlier part of the century took, among the English-speaking -people, rather a poetic and literary than a philosophical form. -And the imperfect attempts of Coleridge to transplant German ideas -into England—attempts followed up with signal energy by Frederic -Denison Maurice—hardly constitute an exception to this rule. In -this connection, also, as one who partly grasped the organic idea of -social life and its development, but who gave it a somewhat imperfect -and even contradictory expression, I may mention a later writer, -Thomas Carlyle, whose imaginative genius and moral enthusiasm did -much to breathe a new life into history. Though not a philosopher in -any technical sense, he was, like his friend Emerson, a vehicle of -philosophical ideas, and he contributed greatly to scatter the seed of -idealism upon British soil. His Calvinistic pessimism, indeed, makes a -curious contrast with the fearless optimism of the new country which is -characteristic of Emerson; but whether great men are to be regarded as -“heroes to be worshipped,” according to the teaching of the one, or as -“representative men,” who are to be followed because they express what -all are thinking, according to the ideas of the other, we are led, in -both cases, to a deeper view of the solidarity of human society and of -its spiritual basis. - - -IV - -It is difficult to determine more than approximately the beginning -of special movements of thought; for the different nations of the -civilized world are not exactly contemporaneous in their development, -and in each nation there are always individuals who lag behind the time -or hasten on before it. But, speaking generally, we may say that as -early as the fourth decade of the century a certain reaction had set -in against the conclusions of idealistic philosophy, and especially -against the organic idea of human life; and a tendency was even -shown to revert, so far as possible, to the methods and ideas of the -eighteenth century. The reasons for this change are various. In Germany -the succession of great philosophers had come to an end, and their -followers were smaller men, who were inclined too much to repeat the -formulas, but had little of the creative power, of their predecessors. -More attention, therefore, began to be paid to the protests of writers -like Herbart and Schopenhauer, who, even in the hour of its triumph, -had criticised and attacked the prevailing philosophy. Again, the -physical sciences were advancing by “leaps and bounds,” and there was -a growing inclination to believe in the universal validity of the -mechanical methods of explanation to which _they_ owed their success, -and even in those sociological and historical studies to which the -idealistic philosophy had given so great an impetus. The progress of -empirical research and the increase of the materials of knowledge -caused much of the work of Hegel and his followers to seem inadequate, -if not entirely to set it aside. Even in Germany, where the new ideas -had taken a distinctly philosophical shape, they seemed to lose -their hold in the controversies that attended the breaking up of the -Hegelian school; and in other countries, where they never found such a -systematic expression, they were even less able to resist the attack -now made upon them. Furthermore, as I have already indicated, writers -of an idealistic tendency, in their recoil from the enlightenment, had -devoted themselves so much to an appreciation of institutions derived -from the past that they seemed to have no eyes for the defects of these -institutions, and to confuse evolution with restoration. - -The general result of all these influences was, then, to discredit -philosophy and exalt science, so far as might be, into its place. -Either the abstract methods of the physical sciences were proclaimed -as adequate for the discovery of all truth, or, if this was seen to -be impossible, agnosticism was professed in regard to all subjects -to which these methods could not be applied. Even the phenomena of -life were supposed to be capable of explanation by the action and -reaction of the parts or elements of the physical organism, and Huxley -looked forward to the time when man with all his spiritual endowments -should be shown to be only the “cunningest of nature’s clocks.” The -new science of psychophysics, which arose in Germany and has been -cultivated with so much zeal by Wundt and others in all civilized -countries, seemed to carry the method of physics into the investigation -of mind, and some of its students were ready to maintain that it -was the only psychology that deserved the name of science. Darwin’s -great work on the _Origin of Species_, in so far as it set aside the -idea of special creation and referred the “purposiveness” of organic -structures to a process in which the external environment, and not any -inward power of self-adaptation, was the controlling factor, seemed -to bring a new reinforcement to the same way of thinking. And he and -his followers were not slow to apply the theory of natural selection -to the life of man, as well as to that of plants and animals. Finally, -the historical studies, which were now cultivated with an energy to an -extent hitherto unexampled, and immensely extended the knowledge of the -process whereby the present has grown out of the past, were invaded -by a similar spirit; and the historical method was maintained to be a -solvent which could disintegrate all metaphysical conceptions of ethics -or politics or even of theology. The account of the genesis of any -idea was regarded as reducing its claims to the level of the elements -or rudiments out of which it had sprung, and thus as enabling the -scientific historian to explain, or explain away, the spiritual by the -natural in all human life and experience. All things appeared again to -be pointing towards a system of thought which would resolve ethics and -psychology into physiology, and physiology into chemistry and physics. - -At the same time the victory of this tendency was always more apparent -than real. In the first place, “out of the eater came forth meat”—that -very advance of the special sciences, which in its earlier stages had -tended to throw all speculative thought into the shade, in the long run -caused the need of philosophy to be again felt. In particular, the -study of development in the organic world, which had received so great -a stimulus from the work of Darwin, could not be carried on without -the aid of higher conceptions than were required for the guidance -of the physicist. The hypothesis of natural selection might expel -the idea of design in the cruder form of a special creation of every -distinct species; and the emphasis which it had laid upon the outward -conditions of growth might seem unfavorable to the higher conception -of an immanent teleology of the organism, but it was confessed by -its author to be an incomplete theory of development, and Darwin -himself, when he turned his attention to the evolution of man, found -it necessary to supplement it by what might be called the converse -theory of sexual selection; thus adding a principle of co-operation -to his first principle of competition. And Mr. Spencer, who defined -growth as a process of integration and differentiation, little as he -might himself intend it, was really putting into popular language the -Hegelian idea of evolution—an idea which necessarily involved the -conception of a self-determined end. Evolutionists might cling, as they -still cling, to the belief that, though constantly and necessarily -speaking of purpose, they could eliminate it from the result of their -investigations by the hypothesis of Darwin, or, subsequently, of -Weissmann; but their discussions, especially when they were extended -to the historical development of man, could not but reawaken the great -controversy whether in the _ultimate_ explanation of things it is more -reasonable to “level up,” or to “level down,” to explain the higher -by the lower, or the lower by the higher. That both explanations are -necessary, nay, that no teleology can be of much worth which does not -presuppose a thorough inquiry into the causal connections of particular -phenomena, was admitted by all modern idealists. But they began to -press the question whether the unity of the whole is not prior to -its distribution into parts, and does not govern their relations with -each other; and, in particular, whether it is possible in the case -of organic beings, and especially of organic beings possessed of -consciousness and self-consciousness, to be satisfied with a mode of -explanation that treats them as mere collections of material elements -which act and react externally upon each other. Whatever its value as -a provisional hypothesis, can such a mode of explanation be finally -regarded as adequate for the explanation of the nature of the world -as a whole, or, indeed, of any one existence in it, that has even a -relative independence or separate being of its own? - -But, in the second place, a revival of the idealistic philosophy was -made necessary by an obvious weakness which clung to the scientific -materialism of the nineteenth century from the very beginning. The -Kantian criticism of knowledge, which could not be entirely neglected, -had convincingly proved that in our experience objects can be known -only in relation to a subject, and matter only in relation to mind. -But, if so, how could the latter be explained by the former? Even -to those who had not fully understood this doctrine, it became -evident that mind is at least co-ordinate with matter, and cannot be -treated as a mere “_epiphenomenon_” of it. Mr. Spencer, therefore, -had to take refuge in the strange notion that we are possessed of -“two consciousnesses”: the consciousness of ideas within us, and the -consciousness of motions without us; and that neither of these can be -resolved into the other, though both are the phenomena of an unknowable -Absolute. It is in this citadel of ignorance that Huxley tries to -intrench himself; but the place was taken before it could be occupied. -The self-contradiction of an unknowable Absolute, and the equal though -less obvious self-contradiction of a dualistic separation between -two aspects of our life—which, as a matter of fact, are never, -and logically can never be, divided—could not long be maintained -against a criticism armed with the weapons of Kant and his idealistic -successors. Already, in the 50’s, the cry “Back to Kant” was raised -in Germany, and, not long after, it led in England and America to a -renewed study of the German idealistic writers, in which Dr. Hutchison -Sterling and the late Professor Green took a leading part. It was soon -obvious to every one who had learned the lesson of critical philosophy -that the agnostic dualism of Mr. Spencer was due to a fundamental -misconception of what is meant by the subjectivity of knowledge. It was -pointed out that if we have the consciousness of object and subject -only in relation to each other, it is not necessary to seek for the -principle of their unity in any _Tertium Quid_ which is neither the -one nor the other. That which Mr. Spencer sought in an unknowable -Absolute was “in our mouths and in our hearts”; it was to be found -in the inseparable unity of experience, in which the inward and the -outward are correlative elements. Agnosticism was a sort of spiritual -refuge for the destitute constructed by those who had renounced their -heritage: who, in other words, had by their abstractions separated the -elements of experience from each other, and were thus forced to seek -beyond experience for the unity which they had lost. The true remedy -for the evil was to give up such abstract ways of thinking and to learn -to “think things together”; in other words, to recognize the organic -relation of the inner and the outer life, and to explain the parts by -the whole, and not the whole by the artificially severed parts. - - -V - -The great distinguishing feature of the last two decades of the century -has been a movement of approximation, partly conscious and partly -unconscious, between the representatives of science, and particularly -of those sciences that deal with special aspects or elements of -human life, on the one hand, and the representatives of idealistic -philosophy on the other. The reconciling ideas of an earlier time -have become better understood and have shown more effectively their -power to reconcile. Not that this mediating power had previously been -entirely unfelt. Even in the time when philosophy was most discredited -in Germany, Lotze, in whom a cautious critical temper was combined -with deep moral and religious sympathies, and a practical knowledge -of the biological and medical sciences with careful studies of Kant -and Hegel, sought to show how an idealistic view of the universe -and of human life could be maintained consistently with the fullest -recognition of scientific methods and results. And though his system -was, on the whole, rather a compromise than a true reconciliation -of philosophy and science, yet it has undoubtedly had very great -influence in modifying the ideas of the opposing schools of thought -and narrowing the ground of controversy between them. Thus the old -English empirical psychology, which was represented by the Mills and -by Mr. Bain, has gradually widened its scope in the hands of writers -like Professor Ward and Mr. Stout, at first probably through the study -of Herbart and then by contact with the revived idealistic movement. -On the other hand, we may notice how idealistic writers, like Mr. -Bradley and Mr. Bosanquet, have tried to absorb every lesson that can -be learned from empiricism, and to shun with the utmost care the very -suspicion of anything like dogmatism. Mr. Bradley’s denunciations of -a “too easy monism” and a philosophy that turns the living world into -a “ballet of bloodless categories” are too well known to be more than -referred to. Nor is this the place to discuss whether his fear of -such a result has not sometimes led him into compromises which are -inconsistent with his own fundamental principle that the world must be -conceived as an intelligible system. In any case, we may fairly point -to his work and to the work of other writers animated by a similar -spirit, as showing the growing prevalence of that reconciling spirit -which seeks at once to do justice to all the results of empirical -inquiry and of the investigations of the special sciences, and yet -at the same time to give them a new interpretation in the light of -an idealistic philosophy. It is impossible within our limits to -illustrate this view of the tendencies of the time by further reference -to the recent philosophical literature of England and America, or of -Germany and France. Still less can I refer to the numerous books on -special departments of inquiry in ethics and theology, in sociology -and in history, in which the “ideally organic view of life and the -world,” as we may call it, has shown its mediating and reconciling -influence. Nor can I do more than refer to the counter current of -pessimism, which has found its most distinguished representatives in -Hartmann and Nietzsche; the former a man of great wealth of thought -and dialectical power, whose philosophy is idealistic in all but its -ultimate principle, and is indeed pessimistic only by an exaggeration -of the opposition between the conscious and the unconscious working of -reason; the latter, hardly a philosopher at all but rather a writer -of pungent and suggestive aphorisms, winged with indignant passion -against prevalent opinions—aphorisms which always contradict some one, -and often contradict each other. From Nietzsche at his best we may -receive a useful warning against too easily satisfying ourselves with -the commonplaces of idealistic optimism; from Hartmann we may derive -very considerable help in estimating the difficulties that have to be -met by those who would seek to work out idealistic principles into a -systematic view of the world. But, without attempting to enter upon any -more detailed criticism of these or other important writers of recent -years, I shall devote the space that remains to one general thought as -to the present state of controversy, in relation to the fundamental -principles of philosophy. - - -VI - -Ever since the revival of the study of Kant, the main conflict in -philosophy has ceased to lie between materialism and idealism. -It has rather become a conflict between those who take up some -position analogous to that of Kant and those who seek to carry out -the idealistic principle to all its consequences. For the essential -characteristic of Kant’s position lay in his sharp division between -the spheres of knowledge and of faith—between a knowledge which was -confined to phenomena and their connection in experience, and a faith -of practical reason, which reached beyond experience to apprehend that -which is noumenally real. Even the agnosticism of Mr. Spencer might -be regarded as a modification of the Kantian point of view, in so far -as his denial of the possibility of knowing the absolute is based on -Mansel’s version of the Kantian antinomies; while his description of -the “vague consciousness” of the absolute which he bids us worship may -be regarded as representing that faith which, in Kant’s view, enables -us to pierce the veil of the phenomena and grasp the ultimate reality -of things. And in the latter part of the century there has been a -continual germination of similar theories, theories agreeing with the -Kantian philosophy at least in making some kind of dualistic division -between the sphere of clearly defined knowledge and the sphere of ideal -or spiritual faith, and also in confining the former to phenomena -while the latter is held to be capable of rising in some way from the -phenomenal to the real. One of the earliest fruits of the Neo-Kantian -movement in Germany was Lange’s _History of Materialism_, which -insisted on the strictest interpretation of the lesson of the _Critique -of Pure Reason_, that scientific knowledge is confined to the empirical -and phenomenal, but which maintained also the chartered freedom of -imagination to feed our hopes with the idea of a world not realized, -or realizable, under the conditions of finite experience. And, with -a different aim, but in a similar spirit, Ritschl, borrowing some of -his weapons from Lotze, sought to take away from philosophy the right -to investigate the spiritual truths of religion, and maintained that -such truths were given in a kind of intuition of faith which is above -criticism and which some of his followers identify, like Kant, with -the demands or postulates of the moral consciousness. Other writers, -following Schopenhauer, have sought to emancipate the will from the -intelligence and to give it an independent power of estimating values. -The great effort to bring science and philosophy together—which, as -we have seen, has characterized the later years of the century—has -itself naturally given rise to many such dualistic compromises, of -which Lotze’s philosophy was among the earliest. And it is partly to -Lotze’s influence that we owe the tendency, visible in some of the most -important recent contributions to philosophy, to regard our actual -experience as having an intuitive completeness which is beyond all -analysis, while reflective thought on the other hand is conceived as -having a purely analytic and discursive operation, which can grasp only -the severed fragments of the given reality and connect them externally -to each other, but which can never restore the organic whole again. -Here, too, we seem by another way to be landed in the same conclusion, -viz., that we are perpetually poised between an ideal which we cannot -verify, but which yet is held to be our only vision of reality, and a -definite result of knowledge, which only gives us what is abstract and -phenomenal. Yet it is difficult to understand how such an organic idea -of the universe can exist except for the thinking intelligence, and how -the thought that grasps it can be separated from the discursive thought -by which the different elements of reality are brought into relation. -How, indeed, can there be any thought which is not both discursive and -intuitive at once, any thought which connects the parts without resting -upon the unity of the whole to which they belong? - -All these different compromises are really different forms of the -Kantian dualism, but they supply convenient cities of refuge for those -who are unwilling to admit that faith is but implicit reason, and -that it is always possible to translate its intuitions of truth into -explicit logic. There is much excuse, indeed, in many cases for such -unwillingness when we consider how often reason has presented itself -as purely a critical or dissolving power, and how often abstract -theories which grasp only one aspect of things have been set forth as -complete explanations of religion or morality or some other of the -higher interests of life. It has always to be kept in view that it -is in something like immediate perception that truth is given in the -first instance, and that philosophy, therefore, must always be in a -sense toiling after the intuitions of faith. Yet, on the other hand, -to hold that there is anywhere an abstract division between the two is -to hold that faith is essentially irrational; it is to exalt it above -reason in a way that inevitably leads in the end to its being depressed -below reason. If, however, this view can be maintained it must lead in -the long run to the rejection of all dualistic compromises. And there -are already many who hold that after the unstable equilibrium of the -Kantian theory has been shaken there is no secure standing-ground for -philosophy short of a thorough-going idealism. Yet even they have -learned by experience how dangerous it is to snatch prematurely at the -readiest idealistic interpretation of facts; and they are aware how -easy it is to fall into a simple optimistic theory, which slurs over -difficulties instead of solving them. They know that if Hegel or any -one ever pretended, or could reasonably be interpreted as pretending, -to construe the universe _a priori_, the pretence was futile, and -that a true and valuable idealism can be reached only through the -interpretation of the data of experience by the special sciences, and -the reinterpretation of the results of these sciences by philosophy. -They hold, in short, that if the well-known saying of Hegel is to -be taken for truth, both of its clauses must be equally emphasized, -and that no philosophy can safely maintain that “what is rational is -actual” which has not gone through all the effort that is necessary to -prove that “what is actual is rational.” - - EDWARD CAIRD. - - - - -MEDICINE - - -INTRODUCTION - -For countless generations the prophets and kings of humanity have -desired to see the things which men have seen, and to hear the things -which men have heard in the course of the wonderful nineteenth century. -To the call of the watchers on the towers of progress there had been -the one sad answer—the people sit in darkness and in the shadow of -death. Politically, socially, and morally the race had improved, -but for the unit, for the individual, there was little hope. Cold -philosophy shed a glimmer of light on his path, religion in its various -guises illumined his sad heart, but neither availed to lift the curse -of suffering from the sin-begotten son of Adam. In the fulness of time, -long expected, long delayed, at last Science emptied upon him from -the horn of Amalthea blessings which cannot be enumerated, blessings -which have made the century forever memorable; and which have followed -each other with a rapidity so bewildering that we know not what next -to expect. To us in the medical profession, who deal with this unit, -and measure progress by the law of the greatest happiness to the -greatest number, to us whose work is with the sick and suffering, -the great boon of this wonderful century, with which no other can be -compared, is the fact that the leaves of the tree of Science have been -for the healing of the nations. Measure as we may the progress of the -world—materially, in the advantages of steam, electricity, and other -mechanical appliances; sociologically, in the great improvement in -the conditions of life; intellectually, in the diffusion of education; -morally, in a possibly higher standard of ethics—there is no one -measure which can compare with the decrease of physical suffering in -man, woman, and child when stricken by disease or accident. This is the -one fact of supreme personal import to every one of us. This is the -Promethean gift of the century to man. - - -THE GROWTH OF SCIENTIFIC MEDICINE - -The century opened auspiciously, and those who were awake saw signs of -the dawn. The spirit of Science was brooding on the waters. In England -the influence of John Hunter stimulated the younger men to the study -of the problems of anatomy and pathology. On the Continent the great -Boorhaave—the Batavian Hippocrates—had taught correct ways in the -study of the clinical aspects of disease, and the work of Haller had -given a great impetus to physiology. The researches of Morgagni had, -as Virchow had remarked, introduced anatomical thinking into medicine. -But theories still controlled practice. Under the teaching of Cullen, -the old idea that humors were the seat of disease had given place to a -neuro-pathology which recognized the paramount influence of the nervous -system in disease. His colleague at Edinburgh, Brown, brought forward -the attractive theory that all diseases could be divided into two -groups, the one caused by excess of excitement—the sthenic—the other -by a deficiency—the asthenic—each having its appropriate treatment, -the one by depletion, the other by stimulation. In a certain measure -Hahnemann’s theory of homœopathy was a reaction against the prevalent -theories of the day, and has survived through the century, though in a -much modified form. Some of his views were as follows: - -“The only vocation of the physician is to heal; theoretical knowledge -is of no use. In a case of sickness he should only know what is curable -and the remedies. Of the diseases he cannot know anything except the -symptoms. There are internal changes, but it is impossible to learn -what they are; symptoms alone are accessible; with their removal by -remedies the disease is removed. Their effects can be studied in the -healthy only. They act on the sick by causing a disease similar to that -which is to be combated, and which dissolves itself into this similar -affection. The full doses required to cause symptoms in the well are -too large to be employed as remedies for the sick. The healing power -of a drug grows in an inverse proportion to its substance. He says, -literally: ‘Only potencies are homœopathic medicines.’ ‘I recognize -nobody as my follower but him who gives medicine in so small doses -as to preclude the perception of anything medicinal in them by means -either of the senses or of chemistry.’ ‘The pellets may be held near -the young infant when asleep.’ ‘Gliding the hand over the patient -will cure him, provided the manipulation is done with firm intention -to render as much good with it as possible, for its power is in -the benevolent will of the manipulator.’ Such is the homœopathy of -Hahnemann, which is no longer recognized in what they call homœopathy -to-day.”—(A. JACOBI.) - -The awakening came in France. In 1801 Bichat, a young man, published -a work on general anatomy, in which he placed the seat of disease, -not in the organs, but in the tissues or fabrics of which they were -composed, which gave an extraordinary impetus to the investigation -of pathological changes. Meanwhile, the study of the appearances of -organs and bodies when diseased (morbid anatomy), which had been -prosecuted with vigor by Morgagni in the eighteenth century, had been -carried on actively in Great Britain and on the Continent, and the -work of Broussais stimulated a more accurate investigation of local -disorders. The discovery by Laennec of the art of auscultation, by -which, through changes in the normal sounds within the chest, various -diseases of the heart and lungs could be recognized, gave an immense -impetus to clinical research. The art of percussion, discovered by -Avenbrugger in the eighteenth century, and reintroduced by Corvisart, -contributed not a little to the same. Laennec’s contributions to the -study of diseases of the lungs, of the heart, and of the abdominal -organs really laid the foundation of modern clinical medicine. A little -later Bright published his researches on diseases of the kidneys, from -which we date our knowledge of this important subject. One of the most -complicated problems of the first half of the century related to the -differentiation of the fevers. The eruptive fevers, measles, scarlet -fever, and small-pox, were easily recognized, and the great group of -malarial fevers was well known; but there remained the large class of -continued fevers, which had been a source of worry and dispute for -many generations. Louis clearly differentiated typhoid fever, and by -the work of his American pupils, W. W. Gerhard and Alfred Stillé, of -Philadelphia, and George B. Shattuck, of Boston, typhus and typhoid -fevers were defined as separate and independent affections. Relapsing -fever, yellow fever, dengue, etc., were also distinguished. The work of -Graves and Stokes, of Dublin, of Jenner and Budd, in England, of Drake, -Dickson, and Flint, in America, supplemented the labors of the French -physicians, and by the year 1860 the profession had reached a sure and -safe position on the question of the clinical aspects of fevers. - -The most distinguishing feature of the scientific medicine of -the century has been the phenomenal results which have followed -_experimental investigations_. While this method of research is not -new, since it was introduced by Galen, perfected by Harvey, and -carried on by Hunter, it was not until well into the middle of the -century that, by the growth of research laboratories, the method -exercised a deep influence on progress. The lines of experimental -research have sought to determine the functions of the organs in -health, the conditions under which perversion of these functions occur -in diseases, and the possibility of exercising protective and curative -influences on the processes of disease. - -The researches of the physiological laboratories have enlarged in every -direction our knowledge of the great functions of life—digestion, -assimilation, circulation, respiration, and excretion. Perhaps in no -department have the results been more surprising than in the growth -of our knowledge of the functions of the brain and nerves. Not only -has experimental science given us clear and accurate data upon the -localization of certain functions of the brain and of the paths of -sensatory and of motor impulses, but it has opened an entirely new -field in the diagnosis and treatment of the diseases of these organs, -in certain directions of a most practical nature, enabling us to resort -to measures of relief undreamed of even thirty years ago. - -The study of physiology and pathology within the past half-century -has done more to emancipate medicine from routine and the thraldom of -authority than all the work of all the physicians from the days of -Hippocrates to Jenner, and we are as yet but on the threshold. - - -THE GROWTH OF SPECIALISM - -The restriction of the energies of trained students to narrow fields -in science, while not without its faults, has been the most important -single factor in the remarkable expansion of our knowledge. Against -the disadvantages in a loss of breadth and harmony there is the -compensatory benefit of a greater accuracy in the application of -knowledge in specialism, as is well illustrated in the cultivation of -special branches of practice. Diseases of the skin, of the eye, of the -ear, of the throat, of the teeth, diseases of women and of children, -are now studied and practised by men who devote all their time to one -limited field of work. While not without minor evils, this custom -has yielded some of the great triumphs of the profession. Dentistry, -ophthalmology, and gynæcology are branches which have been brought -to a state of comparative perfection, and very largely by the labors -of American physicians. In the last-named branch the blessings which -have been brought to suffering women are incalculable, not only as -regards the minor ailments of life, but in the graver and more critical -accidents to which the sex is liable. - -One of the most remarkable and beneficial reforms of the century has -been in the attitude of the profession and the public to the subject of -insanity, and the gradual formation of a body of men in the profession -who labor to find out the cause and means of relief of this most -distressing of all human maladies. The reform movement inaugurated by -Tuke in England, by Rush in the United States, by Pinel and Esquirol in -France, and by Jacobi and Hasse in Germany, has spread to all civilized -countries, and has led not only to an amelioration and improvement in -the care of the insane, but to a scientific study of the subject which -has already been productive of much good. In this country, while the -treatment of the insane is careful and humanitarian, the unfortunate -affiliation of insanity with politics is still in many States a serious -hinderance to progress. - -It may be interesting to take a glance at the state of medicine in -this country at the opening of the nineteenth century. There were -only three schools of medicine, the most important of which were the -University of Pennsylvania and the Harvard. There were only two -general hospitals. The medical education was chiefly in the hands of -the practitioners, who took students as apprentices for a certain -number of years. The well-to-do students and those wishing a better -class of education went to Edinburgh or London. There were only two or -three medical journals, and very few books had been published in the -country, and the profession was dependent entirely upon translations -from the French and upon English works. The only medical libraries -were in connection with the Pennsylvania Hospital and the New York -Hospital. The leading practitioners in the early years were Rush and -Physick, in Philadelphia; Hossack and Mitchill, in New York; and James -Jackson and John Collins Warren, in Boston. There were throughout the -country, in smaller places, men of great capabilities and energy, such -as Nathan Smith, the founder of the Medical Schools of Dartmouth and of -Yale, and Daniel Drake in Cincinnati. After 1830 a remarkable change -took place in the profession, owing to the leaven of French science -brought back from Paris by American students. Between 1840 and 1870 -there was a great increase in the number of medical schools, but the -general standard of education was low—lower, indeed, than had ever -before been reached in the medical profession. The private schools -multiplied rapidly, diplomas were given on short two-year sessions, and -nothing contributed more to the degeneration of the profession than -this competition and rivalry between ill-equipped medical schools. The -reformation, which started at Harvard shortly after 1870, spread over -the entire country, and the rapid evolution of the medical school has -been one of the most striking phenomena in the history of medicine -in the century. University authorities began to appreciate the fact -that medicine was a great department of knowledge, to be cultivated -as a science and promoted as an art. Wealthy men felt that in no -better way could they contribute to the progress of the race than -by the establishment of laboratories for the study of disease and -hospitals for the care of the sick poor. The benefactions of Johns -Hopkins, of Sims, of Vanderbilt, of Pierpont Morgan, of Strathcona, of -Mount-Stephen, of Payne, and of Levi C. Lane and others have placed -scientific medicine on a firm basis. - - -THE GROWTH OF PREVENTIVE MEDICINE - -Sanitary science, hygiene, or preventive medicine may claim to be one -of the brightest spots in the history of the nineteenth century. Public -hygiene was cultivated among the Egyptians, and in the Mosaic law it -reached a remarkable organization. The personal hygiene of the Greeks -was embraced in the saying, “The fair mind in the fair body,” and the -value of exercise and training was fully recognized. The Romans, too, -in public and private hygiene, were our superiors in the matter of -water supply and baths. But modern sanitary science has a much wider -scope and is concerned with the causes of disease quite as much as with -the conditions under which these diseases prevail. The foundations of -the science were laid in the last century with Jenner’s discovery of -vaccination. Howard, too, had grasped the association of fever with -overcrowding in the jails, while the possibility of the prevention of -scurvy had been shown by Captain Cook and by Sir Gilbert Blaine. - -Preventive medicine was a blundering, incomplete science until -bacteriology opened unheard-of possibilities for the prevention of -disease. Before discussing some of the victories of preventive medicine -it will be well to take a brief survey of the growth of the following -subject: - - -SCIENCE OF BACTERIOLOGY - -From the brilliant overthrow by Pasteur, in 1861, and by Koch and Cohn, -in 1876, of the theory of spontaneous generation, we may date its -modern growth. Wrapped up in this theory of spontaneous generation, -upon which speculation raged centuries before the invention of the -microscope, lies the history of bacteriology. - -The ancient Greek and Roman philosophers wrestled with the question, -and very interesting views of the relation of germ life to disease -are preserved to us in their manuscripts. With the invention of the -microscope we can mark the first positive step towards the goal of -to-day. A Jesuit priest, Kircher, in 1671, was the first to investigate -putrefying meat, milk, and cheese with the crude microscope of his -day, and left us indefinite remarks concerning “very minute living -worms” found therein. Four years after Kircher a Dutch linen merchant, -Antonius von Leeuwenhoek, by improving the lenses of the microscope, -saw in rain-water, putrefying fluids, intestinal contents, and saliva, -minute, moving, living particles, which he called “animalculæ.” In -medical circles of his day these observations aroused the keenest -interest, and the theory that these “animalculæ” might be the cause -of all disease was eagerly discussed. Pleincz, of Vienna, after much -observation of various fluids, putrefying and otherwise, wrote in -1762 that it was his firm belief that the phenomena of diseases and -the decomposition of animal fluids were wholly caused by these minute -living things. - -Notwithstanding such assertions, from his day on until Pasteur, Koch, -and Cohn finally proved its misconceptions in 1876, the theory of -spontaneous generation held the upper hand in all discussions upon the -question. - -The stimulus to research as to the causes of disease along the line -of bacterial origin did not entirely cease to be felt, and the names -of Pollender and Davaine are linked together in the first undoubted -discovery of micro-organisms in disease, when the cause of anthrax, a -disease of cattle, was solved in 1863. Following closely upon Davaine’s -researches, the primary causes of wound infection were worked out, and -to the efforts of the British surgeon Lister are due the great advances -of modern surgery. - -In rapid succession the presence of bacteria was clearly demonstrated -in relapsing fever, leprosy, and typhoid fever; but far eclipsing all -former discoveries, on account of the magnitude of the difficulties -encountered and overcome, were the brilliant demonstrations of the -cause of consumption and allied diseases, and that of Asiatic cholera, -by Dr. Robert Koch in 1882 and in 1884 respectively. - -From that time onward innumerable workers have satisfied the critical -scientific world as to the causes of pneumonia, diphtheria, tetanus, -influenza, and bubonic plague, besides many diseases of cattle, horses, -sheep, and other animals and insects. - -Having glanced hastily at the history of bacteriology, we may next -consider some facts concerning the germs themselves. What are they? To -the lay mind the words germ, microbe, bacterium, and bacillus often -convey confused ideas of invisible, wriggling, worm-like creatures, -enemies of mankind, ever on the watch to gain a stealthy entrance -into our bodies, where they wreak harm and death. Scientifically -considered, however, they are the smallest of living things yet known. -They are not animals, but are members of the vegetable kingdom, and are -possessed of definite yet varying shapes. They consist of a jelly-like -substance called protoplasm, which is covered in and held in place by a -well-formed membrane of a relatively hard and dense character, exactly -similar in composition to the woody fibre of trees. - -According to their shape the bacteria are divided into three chief -groups, called respectively cocci, bacilli, and spirilla. The cocci -are spherical bodies and may exist singly or in pairs, in fours, in -clusters, or in chains. In this group we find the smallest bacteria -known, many of them not over 1-150,000 of an inch in diameter. The -bacilli are rod-like bodies, varying much in size in different species -and in members of the same species. They are larger than the cocci, -measuring in length from 1-25,000 of an inch to 1-4000, and in breadth -from 1-125,000 to 1-16,000 of an inch. Many varieties are possessed of -organs of locomotion called flagella. - -The spirilla resemble the bacilli, except that they are twisted into -corkscrew shapes, or have gently undulating outlines. Upon an average -they are much longer than the bacilli, one species being very long, -measuring about 1-600 of an inch. As seen in the natural state bacteria -are found to be colorless, but it is by the application of various -aniline dyes that they are usually studied. These minute plants -increase by a simple method of division into two equal parts, or by -a more complex process of forming a seed—the so-called spore—which -later on develops into the adult form. Under favorable conditions they -are able to multiply at an enormous rate; for instance, it has been -calculated that a bacillus dividing once every hour would at the end -of twenty-four hours have increased to seventeen millions; and if the -division continued at the same rate we should find at the end of the -third day an incalculable number of billions, whose weight would be -nearly seven thousand five hundred tons! - -But, fortunately for our welfare, nature by various means renders the -possibility of such a happening entirely beyond the slightest chance of -realization, her greatest barrier being the lack of an adequate food -supply. - -The distribution in nature of bacteria is wellnigh universal, -occurring as they do in the air we breathe, the water and milk we -drink, upon the exposed surfaces of man and animals, and in their -intestinal tracts, and in the soil to a depth of about nine feet. But -it has been noted that at very high altitudes and in glacier ice none -exist, while in the Arctic regions and at sea far from land their -numbers are very few. - -The conditions governing their growth involve many complex problems, -but a few of the chief factors concerned are moisture, air, food, -temperature, and light. All bacteria must have moisture, else they -die sooner or later, depending upon the hardness of the species, and -none can multiply without it. A supply of air is by no means essential -to all germs. To some it is absolutely necessary, and such germs -are called aerobes. To others air is wholly detrimental, and they -constitute the anaerobes, while to the majority of bacteria air supply -is a matter of indifference, and in consequence they are grouped under -the term facultative anaerobes. - -The food supply of many consists of dead animal and vegetable -materials, a few require living tissues, while a small number can exist -wholly upon mineral salts, or even the nitrogen of the air. The lowest -temperature at which some bacteria can multiply is the freezing-point -of water, and the highest 170 degrees Fahrenheit. However, the average -range of temperature suitable to the majority lies between 60 and 104 -degrees Fahrenheit, 98 2-5 degrees Fahrenheit being the most suitable -for the growth of disease-producing germs. Light, ordinarily diffused -daylight, or its absence, is a matter of no moment to most germs, -whereas direct sunlight is a destroyer of all bacteria. - -The study of the life histories of these diminutive plants excites the -wonder of those who make observations upon them. It is truly marvellous -to know that these bacteria can accomplish in their short lives of -possibly a few hours or days feats which would baffle the cleverest of -chemists if given years of a lifetime to work upon. They give to the -farmer the good quality of his crops, to the dairyman superior butter -and cheese; they assist in large measure in freeing our rivers and -lakes from harmful pollutions. Here it should be strongly emphasized -that those bacteria which cause disease are only of a few species, all -others contributing to our welfare in countless ways. - -Quite as astonishing is the discovery that within the root-knobs of -pease and beans live bacteria which by splitting up mineral salts -containing nitrogen, and by absorbing nitrogen from the air, give it -over to the plant so that it is enabled to grow luxuriantly, whereas, -without their presence, the tiller of the soil might fertilize the -ground in vain. It is quite possible that not alone pease and beans, -but all grasses and plants and trees depend upon the presence of such -germs for their very existence, which in turn supply man and animals -with their means of existence. Hence we see that these nitrifying -bacteria, as they are called, if swept out of existence, would be the -cause of cessation of all life upon the globe. And arguing backward, -one prominent authority states it as his belief that the first of all -life on this earth were those lowly forms of plants which only required -the nitrogen of air or salts to enable them to multiply. - -Limiting observation now to the sphere of medicine, it will be readily -perceived that the presence of bacterial life in a causative relation -to disease is an object of paramount regard. The following paragraphs -will briefly treat of the diseases associated with micro-organisms and -the common modes of infection in each, the chain of events subsequent -to an infection, and the possibilities of protection or cure by means -of substances elaborated in the body of an individual or animal -recently recovered from an infectious disease: - -_Anthrax._—A disease chiefly of cattle and sheep, occasionally of -man, is caused by the _Bacillus anthracis_, discovered in 1849–50 by -Pollender and Davaine. It enters the body through abrasions of the -skin, by inhalation of the spores, or seeds, into the lungs, or by -swallowing infected material. - -_Leprosy._—This disease is caused by a bacillus known as _Bacillus -leprae_, which was discovered by Hansen in 1879. It is doubtful if it -has been grown outside the body. It is supposed to enter by abrasions -of the skin, but it is very feebly contagious, notwithstanding popular -ideas as to its supposedly highly contagious nature. - -_Tuberculosis._—All forms of this disease, among which is ordinary -consumption, are caused by a bacillus closely resembling that of -leprosy. It was discovered by Koch in 1880–82, and named _Bacillus -tuberculosis_. The ways of infection are by inhaling the dried sputum -of consumptives, drinking infected cow’s milk, or eating infected meat. - -_Typhoid Fever._—A disease of human beings only. Eberth in 1880 -discovered the germ causing it and called it _Bacillus typhosus_. It -gains entrance to our bodies chiefly in the milk and water we drink, -which comes from infected sources; a rarer method is by inhalation of -infected air. - -_Diphtheria._—A disease of human beings chiefly. It is caused by a -bacillus which was described in 1883–84 by Klebs and Loeffler, and is -known as _Bacillus diphtheriae_, or Klebs-Loeffler bacillus. Its mode -of entry is by inhaling infected air, or by drinking or eating infected -milk or food. - -_Cholera._—This disease is peculiar to human beings. Its native home -is on the banks of the river Ganges in India, where Koch in 1884 was -able to isolate its causative spirillum. Man is infected by drinking -contaminated water or by contact. - -_Lockjaw, or Tetanus._—Afflicts man, horses, and dogs. The _Bacillus -tetani_ is the most deadly of all known bacteria. It enters the body by -wounds. It was discovered in 1884 by Nicolaier. - -_Influenza, or the Grip._—Caused by one of the smallest-known bacilli; -discovered in 1892 by Canon and Pfeiffer. Infection spreads by the -scattering about by air-currents of the dried nasal and bronchial -secretion of those suffering from the disease, and its portal of entry -is by the nose and bronchial tubes. - -_Pneumonia._—Caused by a coccus which grows in pairs and small chains. -It enters the body by means of the respiratory tract. It is present in -the saliva of twenty per cent. of healthy persons. Proved by Frankel in -1886 to be the cause of this disease. - -_Bubonic Plague._—In 1894 Kitasato and Yersin isolated a small -bacillus in a large number of cases and proved it to be the cause. It -enters the body by means of wounds of the skin, and through bites of -fleas from infected rats, which are said to be one of the chief factors -in spreading this dread malady. - -_Yellow Fever._—The cause of this disease is still under discussion. - -Such are a few of the infectious diseases which we can readily -attribute to the presence of definite micro-organisms in respective -cases. But strange as it may seem, the most typical of all infectious -diseases, small-pox, scarlet fever, measles, and hydrophobia, have as -yet not yielded up their secrets. This is possibly due to the minute -size of the micro-organisms concerned, which make it beyond the power -of the best microscope to demonstrate them. In this connection it has -recently been shown by Roux and Nocard that in the case of the disease -known as pleuro-pneumonia of cattle the causative agent is so very -small as just to be barely visible. Again, it is quite possible that -these diseases may be caused by living things we know nothing about, -which may be quite dissimilar from the bacteria. - - -INFECTION—ITS PROCESSES AND RESULTS - -In the foregoing list of diseases associated with specific bacteria, -attention has been drawn to the common modes of infection, or, as they -are technically called, “portals of entry,” and it now remains to touch -upon the main factors, processes, and results following upon the entry -into the body of such disease-producing microbes. - -It is a well-known fact that the normal blood has of itself to a -considerable extent the power of killing germs which may wander into -it through various channels. Likewise the tissue cells of the body -in general show similar action depending upon the different cell -groups, state of health, general robustness, and period of life. The -germ-killing power varies in different individuals, though each may be -quite healthy. Considered as a whole, this power possessed by the body -against germs is known as “general resistance.” And when by any means -this power of resistance is lost or diminished, we run grave risks of -incurring disease. - -Granted a case of infection, let us now trace up briefly what occurs. -Between the period when the bacteria gain a lodgment and that in which -the disease assumes a noticeable form, the patient simply feels out of -sorts. It is during this stage that the blood and tissues are deeply -engaged in the attempt to repel the attacks of the invading microbes. - -With varying speed the germs multiply throughout the body generally, -or may be at first localized, or even, as in lockjaw, remain localized -throughout the entire disease. Multiplying in the tissues, they -generate in increasing amounts their noxious poisons, which soon cause -profound changes throughout the body; the patient becomes decidedly -ill, and shows now the signs of an unmistakable infection. - -Does the body now give up the fight entirely? No; on the contrary, the -white blood-cells, the wandering cells, and the cells of the tissues -most affected still carry on an unequal fight. From the lymphatic -glands and spleen, armies of white cells rush to the fray and attempt -to eat up and destroy the foe, but possibly in vain; the disease runs -its course, to end either in death or recovery. - -How, then, in cases of recovery, are the microbes finally overcome? - -This question involves many complex processes which at present are by -no means thoroughly understood, but we will concern ourselves with the -simple principles. - -It has been previously mentioned that once the bacteria get a good -foothold the body is subjected to the action of generated poisons, -which are known as toxins. They give rise to such symptoms as loss of -appetite, headache, fever, pains and aches, and even a state of stupor -or unconsciousness. In addition to the active warfare of the white -blood-cells, groups of cells throughout the body, after recovering from -the first rude shock of the toxins, begin to tolerate their presence, -then effect a change in the chemical constitution of the toxins, and -finally elaborate substances which antagonize the toxins and destroy -their action altogether, thus lending aid to the warrior cells, which -at last overcome the invading microbes. Recovery is brought about, and -a more or less permanent degree of immunity against the special form of -disease ensues. - -Now if we could use these antagonizing substances, or, as they are -called, antitoxins, upon other men or animals sick with a similar -disease, would their bodies be at once strengthened to resist and -finally overcome the disease? Yes, in a certain majority of cases they -would, and this is exactly what scientific observers have noted, -worked out, and have successfully applied. A new art in the healing of -disease, which is spoken of broadly as serum-therapy, or medication by -curative or protective serums, has thus been discovered. - -The first observers in this new field were Pasteur and Raynaud in -France in 1877–78, and Salmon and Smith in this country in 1886. -Raynaud, by injecting serum from a calf which had had an attack of -cow-pox, prevented the appearance of the disease in a calf freshly -inoculated with the virulent material of the disease. Pasteur, by using -feebly infective germs of fowl cholera, conferred immunity upon healthy -fowls against the disease, and was able to cure those which were ill. -Salmon and Smith injected small and repeated amounts of the elaborated -toxins or poisons of the bacillus of hog cholera into healthy swine, -and were able to confer immunity upon them. - -However, it was not until Behring in 1892 announced his discovery of -an antitoxin serum for diphtheria, along with an undisputed proof of -its value in treatment, that the attention of the scientific world -was finally aroused and stimulated to the appreciation of the great -possibilities of serum-therapy. - -Strange as it may seem, much opposition arose to this new method of -treatment, not alone from the lay portions of the community, but even -from the ranks of the medical profession itself. This opposition was -due in part to misconceptions of the principles involved in the new -doctrine, and in part to the falsely philanthropic prejudices of the -pseudo-scientific sections of both parties. But by the persevering work -of the enthusiastic believers in serum-therapy, positive conviction has -now replaced misconception and prejudice in the minds of the majority -of its former opponents. - -The accumulation of statistical evidence, even where all allowance is -made for doubtful methods of compilation, shows that the aggregate -mortality of diphtheria has been reduced fully fifty per cent. since -the introduction of antitoxic treatment by Behring in 1892. - -Since the method of preparation of the commercial diphtheria antitoxin -illustrates the general principles involved in the search for the -production of curative or protective serums for infectious diseases in -general, a summary of the steps in its manufacture will now be given. - -A race of diphtheria bacilli, which has been found to yield a poison of -great virulence in alkaline beef broth, is grown for a week or ten days -in this medium. The toxin is then separated and its virulence exactly -determined. It is preserved in sterile receptacles for immediate or -future use. The next step is the inoculation of a suitable animal with -the toxin. Of all animals the horse has been found to meet nearly every -requirement. Such an animal, in a state of perfect health, receives -an injection of twenty cubic centimetres of toxin, along with ten -or fifteen of standard antitoxin, beneath the skin of the neck or -fore-quarters, upon three separate occasions at intervals of five days. -After this it receives increasing doses of toxin, alone, at intervals -of six to eight days, until, at the end of two months, it is able to -stand with little discomfort doses of such strength that if given in -the first stage these doses would have quickly caused death. - -At this period the horse is bled to a small extent, and its serum -tested to ascertain if prospects are good for the production by the -animal of a high grade of antitoxin. If satisfactory progress has been -made, the injections are continued for another month, when, as a rule, -the maximal degree of antitoxic power in the serum will have been -attained. - -The horse is now bled to the proper extent, the blood being received -in a sterile jar and placed in an ice-box. Here it coagulates, and -the serum separates from it. When the separation of clot and serum -is complete, the latter is drawn off, taken to the laboratory, and -standardized. This being finished, an antiseptic fluid is added to -preserve the serum from decomposition. It is then bottled, labelled, -and sent out for use. - -In similar fashion tetanus antitoxin is prepared; and quite recently -Calmette has produced an antitoxic serum for use in snake bite, by -injecting horses with minute increasing doses of snake venom. His -experiments have given some remarkable results, not only in laboratory -work, but also in cases of actual snake bite occurring in man. Thus -bacteriological scientists, after years of laborious work, in the face -of much criticism and severe denunciation, may confidently announce -that they have in their possession a magic key to one of nature’s -secret doors. The lock has been turned. The door stands partly open, -and we are permitted a glimpse of the future possibilities to be -attained in the great fight against disease. - - -PREVENTIVE MEDICINE - -The following are some of the diseases which have been remarkably -controlled through preventive medicine: - -_Small-pox._—While not a scourge of the first rank, like the plague -or cholera, at the outset of the century variola was one of the -most prevalent and dreaded of all diseases. Few reached adult life -without an attack. To-day, though outbreaks still occur, it is a -disease thoroughly controlled by vaccination. The protective power -of the inoculated cow-pox is not a fixed and constant quantity. -The protection may be for life, or it may last only for a year or -two. The all-important fact is this: That efficiently vaccinated -persons may be exposed with impunity, and among large bodies of -men (_e.g._, the German army), in which revaccination is practised, -small-pox is unknown. Of one hundred vaccinated persons exposed to -small-pox, possibly one might take the disease in a mild form; of one -hundred unvaccinated persons so exposed, one alone might escape—from -twenty-five to thirty would die. To be efficient, vaccination must be -carried out systematically, and if all the inhabitants of this country -were revaccinated at intervals small-pox would disappear (as it has -from the German army), and the necessity for vaccination would cease. -The difficulty arises from the constant presence of an unvaccinated -remnant, by which the disease is kept alive. The Montreal experience in -1885 is an object-lesson never to be forgotten. - -For eight or ten years vaccination had been neglected, particularly -among the French-Canadians. On February 28, 1885, a Pullman car -conductor, who came from Chicago, where the disease had been slightly -prevalent, was admitted into the Hôtel Dieu. Isolation was not carried -out, and on the 1st of April a servant in the hospital died of -small-pox. Following her death the authorities of the hospital sent to -their homes all patients who presented no symptoms of the disease. Like -fire in dry grass the contagion spread, and within nine months there -died of small-pox three thousand one hundred and sixty-four persons. -It ruined the trade of the city for the winter, and cost millions of -dollars. There are no reasonable objections to vaccination, which is -a simple process, by which a mild and harmless disease is introduced. -The use of the animal vaccine does away with the possibility of -introduction of other disorders, such as syphilis. - -_Typhus Fever._—Until the middle of the present century this disease -prevailed widely in most of the large cities, particularly in Europe, -and also in jails, ships, hospitals, and camps. It was more widely -spread than typhoid fever and much more fatal. Murchison remarks of -it that a complete history of its ravages would be the history of -Europe during the past three centuries and a half. Not one of the acute -infections seems to have been more dependent upon filth and unsanitary -conditions. With the gradual introduction of drainage and a good water -supply, and the relief of overcrowding, the disease has almost entirely -disappeared, and is rarely mentioned now in the bills of mortality, -except in a few of the larger and more unsanitary cities. The following -figures illustrate what has been done in England within sixty years: -In 1838 in England twelve hundred and twenty-eight persons died of -fever (typhus and typhoid) per million of living. Twenty years later -the figures were reduced to nine hundred and eighteen; in 1878 to three -hundred and six of typhoid and to thirty-six of typhus fever. In 1892 -only one hundred and thirty-seven died of typhoid fever and only three -of typhus per million living! - -_Typhoid Fever._—While preventive medicine can claim a great victory -in this disease also, it is less brilliant, since the conditions which -favor its prevalence are not those specially relating to overcrowding -as much as to imperfect water supply and the contamination of certain -essential foods, as milk. It has been repeatedly demonstrated that, -with a pure water supply and perfect drainage, typhoid fever almost -disappears from a city. In Vienna, after the introduction of good -water, the rate of mortality from typhoid fever fell from twelve per -ten thousand of the inhabitants to about one. In Munich the fall -was still more remarkable; from above twenty-nine per ten thousand -inhabitants in 1857 it fell to about one per ten thousand in 1887. -That typhoid fever in this country is still a very prevalent disease -depends mainly upon two facts: First, not only is the typhoid bacillus -very resistant, but it may remain for a long time in the body of -a person after recovery from typhoid fever, and such persons, in -apparent good health, may be a source of contamination. With many of -the conditions favoring the persistence and growth of the bacillus -outside the body we are not yet familiar. The experience in the -Spanish-American War illustrates how dangerous is the concentration -together of large numbers of individuals. But, second, the essential -factor in the widespread prevalence of typhoid fever in the United -States, particularly in country districts, is the absence of anything -like efficient rural sanitation. Many counties have yet to learn the -alphabet of sanitation. The chief danger results from the impure -water supplies of the smaller towns, the local house epidemics due to -infected wells, and the milk outbreaks due to the infection of dairy -farms. - -The importance of scrupulously guarding the sources of supply was never -better illustrated than in the well-known and oft-quoted epidemic in -Plymouth, Pennsylvania. The town, with a population of eight thousand, -was in part supplied with drinking-water from a reservoir fed by a -mountain-stream. During January, February, and March, in a cottage by -the side of and at a distance of from sixty to eighty feet from this -stream, a man was ill with typhoid fever. The attendants were in the -habit at night of throwing out the evacuations on the ground towards -the stream. During these months the ground was frozen and covered -with snow. In the latter part of March and early in April there was -considerable rainfall and a thaw, in which a large part of the three -months’ accumulation of discharges was washed into the brook not sixty -feet distant. At the very time of this thaw the patient had numerous -and copious discharges. About the 10th of April cases of typhoid fever -broke out in the town, appearing for a time at the rate of fifty a day. -In all about twelve hundred were attacked. An immense majority of -the cases were in the part of the town which received water from the -infected reservoir. - -The use of boiled water and of ice made from distilled water, the -systematic inspection of dairies, the scrupulous supervision of the -sources from which the water is obtained, an efficient system of -sewage removal, and, above all, the most scrupulous care on the part -of physicians and of nurses in the disinfection of the discharges of -typhoid fever patients—these are the factors necessary to reduce to a -minimum the incidence of typhoid fever. - -_Cholera._—One of the great scourges of the present century made -inroads into Europe and America from India, its native home. We have, -however, found out the germ, found out the conditions under which it -lives, and it is not likely that it will ever again gain a foothold -in this country or Great Britain. Since the last epidemic, 1873, the -disease, though brought to this country on several occasions, has -always been held in check at the port of entry. It is communicated -almost entirely through infected water, and the virulence of an -epidemic in any city is in direct proportion to the imperfection of -the water supply. This was shown in a remarkable way in the Hamburg -epidemic of 1892. In Altona, which had a filtration plant, there -were only five hundred and sixteen cases, many of them refugees from -Hamburg. Hamburg, where the unfiltered water of the Elbe was used, had -some eighteen thousand cases, with nearly eight thousand deaths. - -_Yellow Fever._—The cause of this disease is still under discussion. -It has an interest to us in this country from its continued prevalence -in Cuba, and from the fact that at intervals it makes inroads into -the Southern States, causing serious commercial loss. The history of -the disease in the other West India islands, particularly Jamaica, -indicates the steps which must be taken for its prevention. Formerly -yellow fever was as fatal a scourge in them as it is to-day in Cuba. By -an efficient system of sanitation it has been abolished. The same can -be done (and will be done) in Cuba within a few years. General Wood has -already pointed out the way in the cleansing of Santiago. - -_The Plague._—One of the most remarkable facts in connection with -modern epidemics has been the revival of the bubonic plague, the most -dreaded of all the great infections. During the present century the -disease in Europe has been confined almost exclusively to Turkey and -Southern Europe. Since 1894, when it appeared at Hong-Kong, it has -gradually spread, and there have been outbreaks of terrible severity -in India. It has extended to certain of the Mediterranean ports, and -during the past summer it reached Glasgow, where there has been a -small outbreak. On this hemisphere there have been small outbreaks in -certain of the South American ports, cases have been brought to New -York, and there have been to November 1st twenty-one cases among the -Chinese in San Francisco. Judging from the readiness with which it has -been checked and limited in Australia, and in particular the facility -with which the recent outbreak in Glasgow has been stamped out, there -is very little risk that plague will ever assume the proportions which -gave to it its terrible reputation as the “black death” of the Middle -Ages. As I have already mentioned, the germ is known, and prophylactic -inoculations have been made on a large scale in India, with a certain -measure of success. - -_Tuberculosis._—In all communities the _white plague_, as Oliver -Wendell Holmes calls it, takes the first rank as a killing disease. It -has been estimated that of it one hundred and twenty thousand people -die yearly in this country. In all mortality bills tuberculosis of -the lungs, or consumption, heads the list, and when to this is added -tuberculosis of the other organs, the number swells to such an extent -that this disease equals in fatality all the other acute infective -diseases combined, if we leave out pneumonia. Less than twenty years -ago we knew little or nothing of the cause of the disease. It was -believed to be largely hereditary. Koch discovered the germ, and with -this have come the possibilities of limiting its ravages. - -The following points with reference to it may be stated: In a few very -rare instances the disease is transmitted from parent to child. In a -large proportion of all cases the disease is “caught.” The germs are -widely distributed through the sputum, which, when dry, becomes dust, -and is blown about in all directions. Tubercle bacilli have been found -in the dust of streets, houses, hospital wards, and much-frequented -places. A single individual may discharge from the lungs countless -myriads of germs in the twenty-four hours. Dr. Nuttall estimated from a -patient in the Johns Hopkins Hospital, who had only moderately advanced -consumption, that from one and a half to four and a third billions of -germs were thrown off in the twenty-four hours. The consumptive, as has -been well stated, is almost harmless, and only becomes harmful through -bad habits. The germs are contained in the sputum, which, when dry, -is widely scattered in the form of dust, and constitutes the great -medium for the transmission of the disease. If expectorated into a -handkerchief, the sputum dries quickly, particularly if it is put into -the pocket or under the pillow. The beard or mustache of a consumptive -is smeared with the germs. Even in the most careful the hands are apt -to be soiled with the germs, and in those who are dirty and careless -the furniture and materials which they handle readily become infected. -Where the dirty habit prevails of spitting on the floor, a room, or the -entire house, may contain numbers of germs. In the majority of all -cases the infection in tuberculosis is by inhalation. This is shown -by the frequency with which the disease is met in the lungs, and the -great prevalence of tuberculosis in institutions in which the residents -are restricted in the matter of fresh air and a free, open life. The -disease prevails specially in cloisters, in jails, and in asylums. -Infection through milk is also possible; it is doubtful whether the -disease is transmitted through meat. So widespread are the germs that -post-mortem examination has shown that a very large number of persons -show slight signs of the disease who have never during life presented -any symptoms; in fact, some recent investigations would indicate that a -very large proportion of all persons at the age of forty have somewhere -in their bodies slight tuberculous lesions. This shows the importance -of the individual predisposition, upon which the older writers laid so -much stress, and the importance of maintaining the nutrition at its -maximum. - -One of the most remarkable features of modern protective medicine is -the widespread interest that has been aroused in the crusade against -tuberculosis. What has already been accomplished warrants the belief -that the hopes of even the most enthusiastic may be realized. A -positive decline in the prevalence of the disease has been shown in -many of the larger cities during the past ten years. In Massachusetts, -which has been a hot-bed of tuberculosis for many years, the death-rate -has fallen from forty-two per ten thousand inhabitants in 1853 to -twenty-one and eight-tenths per ten thousand inhabitants in 1895. In -the city of Glasgow, in which the records have been very carefully -kept, there has been an extraordinary fall in the death-rate from -tuberculosis, and the recent statistics of New York City show, too, a -similar remarkable diminution. - -In fighting the disease our chief weapons are: First, education of the -public, particularly of the poorer classes, who do not fully appreciate -the chief danger in the disease. Secondly, the compulsory notification -and registration of all cases of tuberculosis. The importance of this -relates chiefly to the very poor and improvident, from whom, after -all, comes the greatest danger, and who should be under constant -surveillance in order that these dangers may be reduced to a minimum. -Thirdly, the foundation in suitable localities by the city and by the -State of sanatoria for the treatment of early cases of the disease. -Fourthly, provision for the chronic, incurable cases in special -hospitals. - -_Diphtheria._—Since the discovery of the germ of this disease -and our knowledge of the conditions of its transmission, and the -discovery of the antitoxin, there has been a great reduction in its -prevalence and an equally remarkable reduction in the mortality. The -more careful isolation of the sick, the thorough disinfection of the -clothing, the rigid scrutiny of the milder cases of throat disorder, -a more stringent surveillance in the period of convalescence, and the -routine examination of the throats of school-children—these are the -essential measures by which the prevalence of the disease has been very -markedly diminished. The great danger is in the mild cases, in which -the disease has perhaps not been suspected, and in which the child may -be walking about and even going to school. Such patients are often a -source of widespread infection. The careful attention given by mothers -to the teeth and mouth of children is also an important factor. In -children with recurring attacks of tonsillitis, in whom the tonsils -are enlarged, the organs should be removed. Through these measures the -incidence of the disease has been very greatly reduced. - -_Pneumonia._—While there has been a remarkable diminution in the -prevalence of a large number of all the acute infections, one disease -not only holds its own, but seems even to have increased in its -virulence. In the mortality bills, pneumonia is an easy second to -tuberculosis. It attacks particularly the intemperate, the feeble, -and the old, though every year a large number of robust, healthy -individuals succumb. So frequent is pneumonia at advanced periods of -life that to die of it has been said to be the natural end of old men -in this country. In many ways, too, it is a satisfactory disease, if -one may use such an expression. It is not associated with much pain, -except at the onset, the battle is brief and short, and a great many -old persons succumb to it easily and peacefully. - -We know the cause of the disease; we know only too well its symptoms, -but the enormous fatality (from twenty to twenty-five per cent.) speaks -only too plainly of the futility of our means of cure, and yet in no -disease has there been so great a revolution in treatment. The patient -is no longer drenched to death with drugs, or bled to a point where -the resisting powers of nature are exhausted. We are not without hope, -too, that in the future an antidote may be found to the toxins of the -disease, and of late there have been introduced several measures of -great value in supporting the weakness of the heart, a special danger -in the old and debilitated. - -_Hydrophobia._—Rabies, a remarkable, and in certain countries a -widespread, disease of animals, when transmitted to a man by the bite -of rabid dogs, wolves, etc., is known as hydrophobia. The specific -germ is unknown, but by a series of brilliant observations Pasteur -showed (1) that the poison has certain fixed and peculiar properties in -connection with the nervous system; (2) that susceptible animals could -be rendered refractory to the disease, or incapable of taking it, by a -certain method of inoculation; and (3) that an animal unprotected and -inoculated with a dose of the virus sufficient to cause the disease -may, by the injection of proper anti-rabic treatment, escape. Supported -by these facts, Pasteur began a system of treatment of hydrophobia in -man, and a special institute was founded in Paris for the purpose. When -carried out promptly the treatment is successful in an immense majority -of all cases, and the mortality in persons bitten by animals proved to -be rabid, who have subsequently had the anti-rabic treatment, has been -reduced to less than one-half per cent. The disease may be stamped out -in dogs by careful quarantine of suspected animals, and by a thoroughly -carried out muzzling order. - -_Malaria._—Among the most remarkable of modern discoveries is the -cause of malarial fever, one of the great maladies of the world, and -a prime obstacle to the settlement of Europeans in tropical regions. -Until 1880 the cause was quite obscure. It was known that the disease -prevailed chiefly in marshy districts, in the autumn, and that the -danger of infection was greatest in the evening and at night, and -that it was not directly contagious. In 1880 a French army surgeon, -Laveran, discovered in the red blood-corpuscles small bodies which have -proved to be the specific germ of the disease. They are not bacteria, -but little animal bodies resembling the amœba—tiny little portions -of protoplasm. The parasite in its earliest form is a small, clear, -ring-shaped body inside the red blood-corpuscle, upon which it feeds, -gradually increasing in size and forming within itself blackish grains -out of the coloring matter of the corpuscle. When the little parasite -reaches a certain size it begins to divide or multiply, and an enormous -number of these breaking up at the same time give off poison in the -blood, which causes the paroxysms of fever. During what is known as -the chill, in the intermittent fever, for example, one can always find -these dividing parasites. Several different forms of the parasites -have been found, corresponding to different varieties of malaria. -Parasites of a very similar nature exist abundantly in birds. Ross, -an army surgeon in India, found that the spread of this parasite from -bird to bird was effected through the intervention of the mosquito. The -parasites reach maturity in certain cells of the coats of the stomach -of these insects, and develop into peculiar thread-like bodies, many of -which ultimately reach the salivary glands, from which, as the insect -bites, they pass with the secretion of the glands into the wound. From -this as a basis, numerous observers have worked out the relation of the -mosquito to malaria in the human subject. - -Briefly stated, the disease is transmitted chiefly by certain varieties -of the mosquito, particularly the _Anopheles_. The ordinary _Culex_, -which is present chiefly in the Northern States, does not convey -the disease. The _Anopheles_ sucks the blood from a person infected -with malaria, takes in a certain number of parasites, which undergo -development in the body of the insect, the final outcome of which is -numerous small, thread-like structures, which are found in numbers in -the salivary glands. From this point, when the mosquito bites another -individual, they pass into his blood, infect the system, and in this -way the disease is transmitted. Two very striking experiments may be -mentioned. The Italian observers have repeatedly shown that _Anopheles_ -which have sucked blood from patients suffering from malaria, when sent -to a non-malarial region, and there allowed to bite perfectly healthy -persons, have transmitted the disease. But a very crucial experiment -was made a short time ago. Mosquitoes which had bitten malarial -patients in Italy were sent to London and there allowed to bite Mr. -Manson, son of Dr. Manson, who really suggested the mosquito theory of -malaria. This gentleman had not lived out of England, and there is no -acute malaria in London. He had been a perfectly healthy, strong man. -In a few days following the bites of the infected mosquitoes he had a -typical attack of malarial fever. - -The other experiment, though of a different character, is quite as -convincing. In certain regions about Rome, in the Campania, malaria is -so prevalent that in the autumn almost every one in the district is -attacked, particularly if he is a new-comer. Dr. Sambron and a friend -lived in this district from the 1st of June to the 1st of September, -1900. The test was whether they could live in this exceedingly -dangerous climate for the three months without catching malaria, if -they used stringent precautions against the bites of mosquitoes. For -this purpose the hut in which they lived was thoroughly wired, and they -slept with the greatest care under netting. Both of these gentlemen at -the end of the period had escaped the disease. - -The importance of these studies cannot be overestimated. They explain -the relation of malaria to marshy districts, the seasonal incidence of -the disease, the nocturnal infection, and many other hitherto obscure -problems. More important still, they point out clearly the way by which -malaria may be prevented: First, the recognition that any individual -with malaria is a source of danger in a community, so that he must -be thoroughly treated with quinine; secondly, the importance of the -draining of marshy districts and ponds in which mosquitoes breed; and, -thirdly, that even in the most infected regions persons may escape the -disease by living in thoroughly protected houses, in this way escaping -the bites of mosquitoes. - -_Venereal Diseases._—These continue to embarrass the social economist -and to perplex and distress the profession. The misery and ill-health -which they cause are incalculable, and the pity of it is that the cross -is not always borne by the offender, but innocent women and children -share the penalties. The gonorrhœal infection, so common, and often so -little heeded, is a cause of much disease in parts other than those -first affected. Syphilis claims its victims in every rank of life, at -every age, and in all countries. We now treat it more thoroughly, but -all attempts to check its ravages have been fruitless. Physicians have -two important duties: the incessant preaching of continence to young -men, and scrupulous care, in every case, that the disease may not be -a source of infection to others, and that by thorough treatment the -patient may be saved from the serious late nervous manifestations. -We can also urge that in the interests of public health venereal -diseases, like other infections, shall be subject to supervision by -the State. The opposition to measures tending to the restriction of -these diseases is most natural: on the one hand, from women, who feel -that it is an aggravation of a shocking injustice and wrong to their -sex; on the other, from those who feel the moral guilt in a legal -recognition of the evil. It is appalling to contemplate the frightful -train of miseries which a single diseased woman may entail, not alone -on her associates, but on scores of the innocent—whose bitter cry -should make the opponents of legislation feel that any measures of -restriction, any measures of registration, would be preferable to the -present disgraceful condition, which makes of some Christian cities -open brothels and allows the purest homes to be invaded by the most -loathsome of all diseases. - -_Leprosy._—Since the discovery of the germ of this terrible disease -systematic efforts have been made to improve the state of its victims -and to promote the study of the conditions under which the disease -prevails. The English Leprosy Commission has done good work in calling -attention to the widespread prevalence of the disease in India and -in the East. In this country leprosy has been introduced into San -Francisco by the Chinese, and into the Northwestern States by the -Norwegians, and there are foci of the disease in the Southern States, -particularly Louisiana, and in the province of New Brunswick. The -problem has an additional interest since the annexation of Hawaii -and the Philippine Islands, in both of which places leprosy prevails -extensively. By systematic measures of inspection and the segregation -of affected individuals the disease can readily be held in check. It is -not likely ever to increase among native Americans, or again gain such -a foothold as it had in the Middle Ages. - -_Puerperal Fever._—Perhaps one of the most striking of all victories -of preventive medicine has been the almost total abolition of so-called -child-bed fever from the maternity hospitals and from private practice. -In many institutions the mortality after child-birth was five or six -per cent., indeed sometimes as high as ten per cent., whereas to-day, -owing entirely to proper antiseptic precautions, the mortality has -fallen to three-tenths to four-tenths per cent. The recognition of the -contagiousness of puerperal fever was the most valuable contribution to -medical science made by Oliver Wendell Holmes. There had been previous -suggestions by several writers, but his essay on the “Contagiousness -of Puerperal Fever,” published in 1843, was the first strong, clear, -logical statement of the case. Semmelweis, a few years later, added -the weight of a large practical experience to the side of the -contagiousness, but the full recognition of the causes of the disease -was not reached until the recent antiseptic views had been put into -practical effect. - - -THE NEW DISPENSATION IN TREATMENT - -The century has witnessed a revolution in the treatment of disease, -and the growth of a new school of medicine. The old schools—regular -and homœopathic—put their trust in drugs, to give which was the -alpha and the omega of their practice. For every symptom there were -a score or more of medicines—vile, nauseous compounds in one case; -bland, harmless dilutions in the other. The new school has a firm faith -in a few good, well-tried drugs, little or none in the great mass of -medicines still in general use. Imperative drugging—the ordering -of medicine in any and every malady—is no longer regarded as the -chief function of the doctor. Naturally, when the entire conception -of the disease was changed, there came a corresponding change in our -therapeutics. In no respect is this more strikingly shown than in our -present treatment of fever—say, of the common typhoid fever. During -the first quarter of the century the patients were bled, blistered, -purged and vomited, and dosed with mercury, antimony, and other -compounds to meet special symptoms. During the second quarter, the -same, with variations in different countries. After 1850 bleeding -became less frequent, and the experiments of the Paris and Vienna -schools began to shake the belief in the control of fever by drugs. -During the last quarter sensible doctors have reached the conclusion -that typhoid fever is not a disease to be treated with medicines, but -that in a large proportion of all cases diet, nursing, and bathing -meet the indications. There is active, systematic, careful, watchful -treatment, but not with drugs. The public has not yet been fully -educated to this point, and medicines have sometimes to be ordered for -the sake of the friends, and it must be confessed that there are still -in the ranks _antiques_ who would insist on a dose of some kind every -few hours. - -The battle against poly-pharmacy, or the use of a large number of drugs -(of the action of which we know little, yet we put them into bodies of -the action of which we know less), has not been fought to a finish. -There have been two contributing factors on the side of progress—the -remarkable growth of the skeptical spirit fostered by Paris, Vienna, -and Boston physicians, and, above all, the valuable lesson of -homœopathy, the infinitesimals of which certainly could not do harm, and -quite as certainly could not do good; yet nobody has ever claimed that -the mortality among homœopathic practitioners was greater than among -those of the regular school. A new school of practitioners has arisen -which cares nothing for homœopathy and less for so-called allopathy. -It seeks to study, rationally and scientifically, the action of drugs, -old and new. It is more concerned that a physician shall know how to -apply the few great medicines which all have to use, such as quinine, -iron, mercury, iodide of potassium, opium, and digitalis, rather than a -multiplicity of remedies the action of which is extremely doubtful. - -The growth of scientific pharmacology, by which we now have many -active principles instead of crude drugs, and the discovery of the art -of making medicines palatable, have been of enormous aid in rational -practice. There is no limit to the possibility of help from the -scientific investigation of the properties and action of drugs. At any -day the new chemistry may give to us remedies of extraordinary potency -and of as much usefulness as cocaine. There is no reason why we should -not even in the vegetable world find for certain diseases specifics of -virtue fully equal to that of quinine in the malarial fevers. - -One of the most striking characteristics of the modern treatment -of disease is the return to what used to be called the natural -methods—diet, exercise, bathing, and massage. There probably never -has been a period in the history of the profession when the value -of _diet_ in the prevention and the cure of disease was more fully -recognized. Dyspepsia, the besetting malady of this country, is largely -due to improper diet, imperfectly prepared and too hastily eaten. One -of the great lessons to be learned is that the preservation of health -depends in great part upon food well cooked and carefully eaten. A -common cause of ruined digestion, particularly in young girls, is the -eating of sweets between meals and the drinking of the abominations -dispensed in the chemists’ shops in the form of ice-cream sodas, etc. -Another frequent cause of ruined digestion in business men is the -hurried meal at the lunch-counter. And a third factor, most important -of all, illustrates the old maxim, that more people are killed by over -eating and drinking than by the sword. Sensible people have begun to -realize that alcoholic excesses lead inevitably to impaired health. A -man may take four or five drinks of whiskey a day, or even more, and -thinks perhaps that he transacts his business better with that amount -of stimulant; but it only too frequently happens that early in the -fifth decade, just as business or political success is assured, Bacchus -hands in heavy bills for payment, in the form of serious disease of the -arteries or of the liver, or there is a general breakdown. With the -introduction of light beer there has been not only less intemperance, -but a reduction in the number of the cases of organic disease of the -heart, liver, and stomach caused by alcohol. While temperance in -the matter of alcoholic drinks is becoming a characteristic feature -of Americans, intemperance in the quantity of food taken is almost -the rule. Adults eat far too much, and physicians are beginning to -recognize that the early degenerations, particularly of the arteries -and of the kidneys, leading to Bright’s disease, which were formerly -attributed to alcohol, are due in large part to too much food. - -_Nursing._—Perhaps in no particular does nineteenth-century practice -differ from that of the preceding centuries more than in the greater -attention which is given to the personal comfort of the patient and to -all the accessories comprised in the art of nursing. The physician has -in the trained nurse an assistant who carries out his directions with a -watchful care, and who is on the lookout for danger-signals, and with -accurate notes enables him to estimate the progress of a critical case -from hour to hour. The intelligent, devoted women who have adopted the -profession of nursing, are not only in their ministrations a public -benefaction, but they have lightened the anxieties which form so large -a part of the load of the busy doctor. - -_Massage and Hydrotherapy_ have taken their places as most important -measures of relief in many chronic conditions, and the latter has been -almost universally adopted as the only safe means of combating the high -temperatures of the acute fevers. - -Within the past quarter of a century the value of _exercise_ in the -education of the young has become recognized. The increase in the means -of taking wholesome out-of-door exercise is remarkable, and should show -in a few years an influence in the reduction of the nervous troubles -in young persons. The prophylactic benefit of systematic exercise, -taken in moderation by persons of middle age, is very great. Golf and -the bicycle have in the past few years materially lowered the average -incomes of the doctors in this country as derived from persons under -forty. From the senile contingent—those above this age—the average -income has for a time been raised by these exercises, as a large -number of persons have been injured by taking up sports which may be -vigorously pursued with safety only by those with young arteries. - -Of three departures in the art of healing, brief mention may be made. -The use of the extracts of certain organs (or of the organs themselves) -in disease is as old as the days of the Romans, but an extraordinary -impetus has been given to the subject by the discovery of the curative -powers of the extract of the thyroid gland in the diseases known -as cretinism and myxœdema. The brilliancy of the results in these -diseases has had no parallel in the history of modern medicine, but -it cannot be said that in the use of the extracts of other organs for -disease the results have fulfilled the sanguine expectations of many. -There was not, in the first place, the same physiological basis, and -practitioners have used these extracts too indiscriminately and without -sufficient knowledge of the subject. - -Secondly, as I have already mentioned, we possess a sure and certain -hope that for many of the acute infections antitoxins will be found. - -A third noteworthy feature in modern treatment has been a return to -psychical methods of cure, in which _faith in something is suggested_ -to the patient. After all, faith is the great lever of life. Without -it, man can do nothing; with it, even with a fragment, as a grain of -mustard-seed, all things are possible to him. Faith in us, faith in -our drugs and methods, is the great stock in trade of the profession. -In one pan of the balance, put the pharmacopœias of the world, all -the editions from Dioscorides to the last issue of the United States -Dispensatory; heap them on the scales as did Euripides his books in -the celebrated contest in the “Frogs”; in the other put the simple -faith with which from the days of the Pharaohs until now the children -of men have swallowed the mixtures these works describe, and the bulky -tomes will kick the beam. It is the _aurum potabile_, the touchstone of -success in medicine. As Galen says, confidence and hope do more good -than physic—“he cures most in whom most are confident.” That strange -compound of charlatan and philosopher, Paracelsus, encouraged his -patients “to have a good faith, a strong imagination, and they shall -find the effects” (Burton). While we often overlook or are ignorant of -our own faith-cures, doctors are just a wee bit too sensitive about -those performed outside our ranks. They have never had, and cannot -expect to have, a monopoly in this panacea, which is open to all, free -as the sun, and which may make of every one in certain cases, as was -the Lacedemon of Homer’s day, “a good physician out of Nature’s grace.” -Faith in the gods or in the saints cures one, faith in little pills -another, hypnotic suggestion a third, faith in a plain, common doctor -a fourth. In all ages the prayer of faith has healed the sick, and -the mental attitude of the suppliant seems to be of more consequence -than the powers to which the prayer is addressed. The cures in the -temples of Æsculapius, the miracles of the saints, the remarkable -cures of those noble men, the Jesuit missionaries, in this country, -the modern miracles at Lourdes and at St. Anne de Beaupré in Quebec, -and the wonder-workings of the so-called Christian Scientists, are -often genuine, and must be considered in discussing the foundations of -therapeutics. We physicians use the same power every day. If a poor -lass, paralyzed, apparently, helpless, bed-ridden for years, comes to -me, having worn out in mind, body, and estate a devoted family; if she -in a few weeks or less by faith in me, and faith alone, takes up her -bed and walks, the saints of old could not have done more. St. Anne and -many others can scarcely to-day do less. We enjoy, I say, no monopoly -in the faith business. The faith with which we work, the faith, indeed, -which is available to-day in every-day life, has its limitations. It -will not raise the dead; it will not put in a new eye in place of a -bad one (as it did to an Iroquois Indian boy for one of the Jesuit -fathers), nor will it cure cancer or pneumonia, or knit a bone; but, -in spite of these nineteenth-century restrictions, such as we find it, -faith is a most precious commodity, without which we should be very -badly off. - -_Hypnotism_, introduced by Mesmer in the eighteenth century, has -had several revivals as a method of treatment during the nineteenth -century. The first careful study of it was made by Braid, a Manchester -surgeon, who introduced the terms hypnotism, hypnotic, and nervous -sleep; but at this time no very great measure of success followed -its use in practice, except perhaps in the case of an Anglo-Indian -surgeon, James Esdaile, who, prior to the introduction of anæsthesia, -had performed two hundred and sixty-one surgical operations upon -patients in a state of hypnotic unconsciousness. About 1880 the French -physicians, particularly Charcot and Bernheim, took up the study, -and since that time hypnotism has been extensively practised. It may -be defined as a subjective psychical condition, what Braid called -nervous sleep, resembling somnambulism, in which, as Shakespeare says, -in the description of Lady Macbeth, the person receives at once the -benefit of sleep and does the effects or acts of watching or waking. -Therapeutically, the important fact is that the individual’s natural -susceptibility to suggestion is increased, and this may hold after the -condition of hypnosis has passed away. The condition of hypnosis is -usually itself induced by suggestion, requesting the subject to close -the eyes, to think of sleep, and the operator then repeats two or three -times sentences suggesting sleep, and suggesting that the limbs are -getting heavy and that he is feeling drowsy. During this state it has -been found that the subjects are very susceptible to suggestion. Too -much must not be expected of hypnotism, and the claims which have been -made for it have been too often grossly exaggerated. It seems, as it -has been recently well put, that hypnotism “at best permits of making -suggestions more effective for good or bad than can be done upon one -in his waking state.” It is found to be of very little use in organic -disease. It has been helpful in some cases of hysteria, in certain -functional spasmodic affections of the nervous system, in the vicious -habits of childhood, and in suggesting to the victims of alcohol and -drugs that they should get rid of their inordinate desires. It has -been used successfully in certain cases for the relief of labor pains, -and in surgical operations; but on the whole, while a valuable agent -in a few cases, it has scarcely fulfilled the expectations of its -advocates. It is a practice not without serious dangers, and should -never be performed except in the presence of a third person, and its -indiscriminate practice by ignorant persons should be prevented by law. - -One mode of faith-healing in modern days, which passes under the -remarkable name of Christian Science, is probably nothing more than -mental suggestion under another name. “The patient is told to be calm, -and is assured that all will go well; that he must try to aid the -healer by believing that what is told him is true. The healer then, -quietly but firmly, asserts and reiterates that there is no pain, no -suffering, that it is disappearing, that relief will come, that the -patient is getting well.” This is precisely the method which Bernheim -used to use with such success in his hypnotic patients at Nancy, -iterating and reiterating, in a most wearisome way, that the disease -would disappear and the patient would feel better. As has been pointed -out by a recent writer (Dr. Harry Marshall), the chief basis for the -growth of Christian Science is that which underlies every popular -fallacy: “Oliver Wendell Holmes outlined very clearly the factors -concerned, showing (a) how easily abundant facts can be collected -to prove anything whatsoever; (b) how insufficient ‘exalted wisdom, -immaculate honesty, and vast general acquirements’ are to prevent an -individual from having the most primitive ideas upon subjects out -of his line of thought; and, finally, demonstrating ‘the boundless -credulity and excitability of mankind upon subjects connected with -medicine.’” - - WILLIAM OSLER. - - - - -SURGERY - - -The end of the eighteenth century was made notable by one of the most -remarkable and beneficent discoveries which has ever blessed the human -race, the discovery of the means of preventing small-pox. On May 14, -1796, Dr. Edward Jenner inoculated James Phipps. When we remember that -two million persons died in a single year in the Russian Empire from -small-pox; that in 1707 in Iceland, out of a population of thirty -thousand, sixty per cent., or eighteen thousand, died; that in Jenner’s -time “an adult person who had not had small-pox was scarcely met with -or heard of in the United Kingdom, and that owing to his discovery -small-pox is now one of the rarest diseases,” the strong words I have -used seem fully justified. But the eighteenth century was not to -witness the end of progress in medicine. The advances in the nineteenth -century have been even more startling and more beneficent. What these -advances have been in the department of medicine has been related by -Professor Osler. It is my province to speak only of surgery. - - -METHOD OF TEACHING - -The first advance which should be mentioned is a fundamental -one—namely, methods of medical teaching. At the beginning of the -nineteenth century there were only three medical schools in the United -States: the Medical Department of the University of Pennsylvania, -established in 1765; the Medical Department of Harvard, established -in 1783; and the Medical Department of Dartmouth, established in -1797. The last report of the Commissioner of Education gives a list -of one hundred and fifty-five medical schools now in existence in -this country, many of them still poorly equipped and struggling for -existence, but a large number of them standing in the first rank, with -excellent modern equipment, both in teachers, laboratories, hospitals, -and other facilities. The medical curriculum then extended over -only two years or less, and consisted of courses of lectures at the -most by seven professors who, year after year, read the same course -of lectures, without illustrations and with no practical teaching. -The medical schools, even when connected with universities, were -practically private corporations, the members of which took all the -fees, spent what money they were compelled to spend in the maintenance -of what we now should call the semblance of an education, and divided -the profits. Until within about twenty years this method prevailed in -all our medical schools. But the last two decades of the century have -seen a remarkable awakening of the medical profession to the need of -a broader and more liberal education, and that, as a prerequisite, -the medical schools should be on the same basis as the department of -arts in every well-regulated college. To accomplish this the boards of -trustees have taken possession of the fees of students, have placed the -faculties upon salaries, and have used such portion of the incomes of -the institutions as was needed for a constant and yet rapid development -along the most liberal lines. - - -COLLEGE HOSPITALS - -The first step has been the establishment in connection with most -schools of general hospitals in which the various teachers in the -college should be the clinical instructors, and where the students -would have the means not only of hearing theoretically what should be -done to the sick, but of actually examining the patients under the -supervision of their instructors, studying the cases so as to become -skilled in reaching a diagnosis and indicating what in their opinion -was necessary in the way either of hygiene, medicine, or surgical -operation. More than that, in most of the advanced schools to-day the -students assist the clinical faculties of the hospitals in the actual -performance of operations, so that when they graduate they are skilled -to a degree utterly unknown twenty years ago. - - -ESTABLISHMENT OF LABORATORIES - -Another step which was equally important, and in some respects even -more so, has been the establishment of laboratories connected with each -branch of instruction. A laboratory of anatomy (the dissecting room) -every medical school has always had, but all the other laboratories are -recent additions. Among these may be named a laboratory of clinical -medicine, a laboratory of therapeutics, in which the action of drugs -is studied; a laboratory of chemistry, a laboratory of microscopy, a -laboratory of pathology for the study of diseased tissues, a laboratory -of embryology for the study of the development of the human body and -of the embryos of animals, a laboratory of hygiene, a laboratory of -bacteriology, a laboratory of pharmacy, a surgical laboratory, in which -all the operations of surgery are done on the cadaver by each student, -a laboratory of physiology, and in many colleges private rooms in which -advanced work may be done for the discovery of new truths. - -In all these laboratories, instead of simply hearing about the -experiments and observations, each student is required to handle the -drugs, the chemicals, the apparatus, to do all the operations, to look -through the microscope, etc.; in other words, to do all that which is -necessary for the proper understanding of the case in hand. In fact, -it may be said that in view of the opportunities and the requirements -of modern hospitals, it is undoubtedly true that a hospital patient, -the poorest of the poor, often has his case more thoroughly studied and -more accurately observed than the wealthy patient who is attended at -his home. On the other hand, however, so many laboratories with their -expensive apparatus and a large staff of assistants mean an enormous -increase in the expense of a medical education, for which the student -does not pay anything like an equivalent. Hence the need in all of our -best modern medical schools for endowments, in order that such work may -be carried on properly, and yet the student not be charged such fees as -to be practically prohibitory, excepting for the rich, or at the least -the well-to-do. I do not hesitate to say that at the end of the second -year many a diligent student of to-day is better fitted to practise -medicine than was the graduate of half a century ago. - - -ANATOMICAL MATERIAL - -One of the most important means of the study of medicine, and -especially of surgery, is a thorough acquaintance with the anatomy of -the human body. No one would think of placing an engineer in charge -of a complicated piece of machinery, who had never become intimately -acquainted with all the parts of such a machine, so that he could take -it to pieces and put it together again with ease and intelligence. -Yet, until comparatively recently, this knowledge of anatomy was -both required of, and yet at the same time the means of obtaining it -was forbidden to, the medical student. If he performed an operation -and was guilty of negligence or error, due to his want of anatomical -knowledge, he was liable to a suit for malpractice. Yet his only -means of becoming acquainted with the anatomy of the human body was -by stealing the bodies of the dead. In England, up to 1832, this was -equally true. A regular traffic in human bodies existed there as -well as here, and, by reason of its perils, the cost of bodies for -dissection was very great; but it was only a question of money. In -his testimony before the Parliamentary Committee, Sir Astley Cooper -made a shiver run down the backs of the noble lords who listened to -him when he said that in order to dissect the body of any of them it -was only necessary for him to pay enough. The large pecuniary profits -of such business, when the supply was very small, led to the horrible -atrocities of Burke and Hare in Edinburgh in 1832. They deliberately -murdered a considerable number of persons, and sold the bodies to the -dissecting rooms in that city. The discovery of their crimes finally -led to the passage of the Anatomy Act, which has been in force in -Great Britain ever since. Similar violations of graveyards in this -country have led to the passage in various States of somewhat similar -laws, usually giving for dissection the bodies of those who were so -poor in friendship that no one would spend the money necessary for -their burial. Even to-day, in a large number of our States, the former -anomalous condition of affairs exists. The increase of anatomical -material which has resulted from the enactment of wise and salutary -laws for this purpose has given a great impetus to the study of -anatomy, and has produced a far better educated class of physicians -in most parts of the United States within the last few years. The -enlightened sense of the community has perceived that to deny the -medical schools the means of properly teaching anatomy was a fatal -mistake, and resulted in an ignorance of which the community were -the victims. As a result, it is possible now, by law, in most States -to obtain a reasonable number of cadavers, not only for the study of -anatomy, but for the performance of all the usual operations. - - -MEDICAL LIBRARIES - -Along with this there has been throughout this country a marked -movement in favor of medical libraries. It is to the credit of the -government of the United States that the whole world is debtor to us, -not only for the foremost medical library in the world, that of the -surgeon-general of the army in Washington, but also for the magnificent -index-catalogue, not only of the books, but all the journal articles -in every language in the world. No better investment of money was ever -made than the establishment of this library, and its allied museum, and -the publication of the index-catalogue. - - -EMBRYOLOGY - -As a result of all these means and methods of study, and as a part of -the great educational and scientific movement of the century, medical -men now take a wholly different view of the normal and abnormal -structures of the human body. The study of embryology has shown us that -many of the deviations from the normal development of the human body -are easily explained by embryology. One of the most important changes -in our idea, for example, of tumors is due to the fact that the study -of embryology and of the tissues of the embryo have shown us that -diseased structures, which lack explanation entirely, when compared -with the adult human tissues, readily find their explanation and fall -into an unexpected order when compared with the tissues of the embryo. -Not only, however, has the study of embryological tissues thrown a -flood of light on diseased structures, but we have obtained new views -of the relation of man to all creatures, lower in the scale of life. -Largely owing to the doctrine of evolution, we now recognize the fact -that, so far as his body is concerned, man is kindred to the brutes; -that his diseases, within certain limitations, are identical with -similar diseases of the lower animals; that his anatomy and physiology -are, in essence, the same as the anatomy and physiology of the lower -animals, even the very lowest, and that many of his diseases can be -best studied in the lower animals, because upon them we can make exact -experiments which would be impossible in man. While it is true that -each animal has disorders which are peculiar to itself, and that it is -not subject to some of the disorders to which man is a victim, and, -_per contra_, that man is a victim to some disorders from which animals -do not suffer, yet, taking them as a whole, the diseases of man and of -animals, and the action of remedies on both, are practically identical. -To this I shall have occasion to refer again. - - -PATHOLOGY - -Among the laboratories which I mentioned, one of the most important is -that of pathology and morbid anatomy, or the study of diseased tissues -and organs. The first work on pathology written in this country was -by one of our best-known surgeons, the late Samuel D. Gross, and one -of his most important contributions to surgical progress consisted in -his persistent advocacy of the need for the study of pathology as a -basis for all our means of cure. This is evident, if we consider the -illustration I used a moment ago of a steam-engine. Unless he knows -precisely the defects of such a machine, the influence of fresh or -salt water on a boiler, the influence of rust, the effect of oils, -entirely apart from the mere mechanism of the engine, an engineer -might make the most serious mistake, resulting in fatal damage, both to -the machine and probably to life. So, surgical pathology is the study -of the processes of disease, the alterations in the minute structure -of tissues and organs, without which no surgeon can be fitted for -his task, much less can he be called an accomplished surgeon. All of -these laboratories mark the difference between the scientific and the -empirical method. The old student of medicine went from case to case, -heard many a good maxim, and learned many a useful trick; but, after -all, it was only an empirical knowledge which he obtained. It did -not go to the foundation of things, it was not scientific, as is the -collegiate instruction of to-day. - -Having now glanced rapidly at the improvement in medical instruction, -let me turn next to a few of the principal discoveries which have made -the surgery of to-day so much superior to the surgery of a hundred -years ago. - - -ANÆSTHESIA - -After vaccination, the most important medical event of the century is -the discovery of anæsthesia. While there were some prior attempts at -anæsthesia, practically it dates from October 16, 1846, when Dr. John -C. Warren, in the Massachusetts General Hospital, first performed a -major surgical operation, without inflicting the slightest pain. I -cannot enter into the merits of the various claimants for the credit -of first using an anæsthetic, but ether was then for the first time -publicly administered by Morton, and the very sponge which was then -used is now a precious trophy of the Massachusetts General Hospital. -I may, perhaps, quote from an address which I delivered before the -Medical and Chirurgical Faculty of the State of Maryland, at their -centennial anniversary, in April, 1899, the following in relation to -anæsthesia: - - “The news went like wildfire, and anæsthesia was soon introduced - into every clinic and at almost every operation throughout - the civilized world. Prior to that time a surgical operation - was attended with horrors which those who live in these days - cannot appreciate. He was the best surgeon who could perform any - operation in the least possible time. The whole object of new - methods of operating was to shorten the period of frightful agony - which every patient had to endure. Every second of suffering - saved was an incalculable boon. To submit to any operation - required then a heroism and an endurance which is almost - incomprehensible to us now. All of the more modern, deliberate, - careful, painstaking operations, involving minute dissection, - amid nerves and blood-vessels, when life or death depends on the - accuracy of almost every touch of the knife, were absolutely - impossible. It was beyond human endurance quietly to submit one’s - self for an hour, for an hour and a half, for two hours, or even - longer, to such physical agony. - - “It is a striking commentary on the immediate results of - anæsthesia to learn that, in five years before the introduction - of ether, only one hundred and eighty-four persons were - willing to submit themselves to such a dreadful ordeal in the - Massachusetts General Hospital—an average of thirty-seven - operations per annum, or three per month.... During the last - year, in the same hospital—a Mecca for every surgeon the world - over—over thirty-seven hundred operations were performed. It is - not an uncommon thing at the present day for any one of the more - active surgeons of this country to do as many as four or five - hundred operations in a year. I have known as many as nineteen - operations to be done in the Jefferson Medical College Hospital - in a single day—equalling six months’ work in Boston before the - introduction of ether.” - -The next year, 1847, witnessed the introduction of chloroform by Sir -James Y. Simpson, of Edinburgh. Until I became acquainted with the -striking figures just quoted, I had often wondered at the hospital -scene in that most touching story, _Rab and His Friends_, by the late -gifted and well-beloved physician, Dr. John Brown, of Edinburgh. -Nowadays students do not rush into the surgical amphitheatre when they -learn that an operation is to be done, but it is taken as a matter of -course, for practically every day many operations are done in most of -our large hospitals. But, at the time when Rab’s mistress was operated -upon, an operation, as has been stated, was a very rare event. Few had -the fortitude to endure its dreadful pangs. Now, thanks to the blessed -sleep of anæsthesia, sufferers from even the most dreadful disorders -can have long and difficult operations done, accurate and tedious -dissections made, and yet feel not a twinge of pain. - -Besides general anæsthesia by ether, chloroform, and a few other -agents, there have been introduced several means for producing “local -anæsthesia,” _i.e._, agents which destroy the sensibility of the part -of the body to be operated upon while not producing unconsciousness. -Freezing the part by ice and salt, or by a quickly evaporating spray -of rhigolene or chloride of ethyl, are sometimes used. But cocaine -and a somewhat similar substance, eucaine, have of late been more -extensively used on man, after their harmlessness had been first shown -by experiments on animals. In 1885 Corning, of New York, injected a -solution of cocaine as near to the spinal cord as was possible, and -produced insensibility of all the body below the point of injection -by the effect of the cocaine upon the spinal cord. A few years ago -Quincke, of Kiel, in Germany, devised a means of puncturing the spinal -canal itself in the lumbar region (the lowest part of the small -of the back) for the purpose of drawing off some of the fluid for -examination. This suggested to Bier, then of Kiel, who was apparently -ignorant of Corning’s work, that cocaine could be injected through a -hollow needle inserted into the spinal canal by “lumbar puncture” and -so produce anæsthesia of all the body below this point. This method -was published by him in 1899, and was soon repeated in America. In -France, however, it has been practised more than elsewhere, Tupper, -of Paris, having successfully done over two hundred operations by -“spinal anæsthesia.” All of the body below the diaphragm can thus be -deprived of sensibility. The method will probably never replace ether -and chloroform, but in many cases is a valuable aid to the surgeon. -But it has its dangers and its inconveniences. The ideal anæsthetic -is not that which destroys sensibility and yet leaves the patient -perfectly conscious, as spinal anæsthesia does. A patient to whom I -recently proposed it for certain special reasons rejected it, saying, -with probable truth, that she could never bear the strain of lying on -the table perfectly conscious of all that was being done and frightened -by any surgical emergency which might easily arise in such a long, -difficult, and dangerous operation. The ideal anæsthetic is that -which will abolish pain and consciousness without danger to life. The -twentieth century will undoubtedly see the discovery of this safe and -efficient anæsthetic. - - -ANTISEPSIS - -But the limits of surgical progress were not yet reached. Let me quote -again from the address before alluded to: - - “Even the introduction of anæsthesia, however, did not rid - surgery of all its terrors. The acute pain of the operation was - abolished, but the after-suffering, as I know only too well, - in my early surgical days, was something dreadful to see. The - parched lips of the poor sufferer, tossing uneasily during - sleepless nights; wounds reeking with pus, and patients dying by - scores from blood-poisoning, from erysipelas, from tetanus, from - gangrene, were only too familiar sights in the pre-antiseptic - days. Then, again, there arose one of these deliverers of the - human race whose name can never be forgotten and whose fame will - last so long as time shall endure. Jenner, Warren, and Lister - are a triumvirate of names of which any profession may well be - proud. Thank God, they all sprang from virile Anglo-Saxon loins! - No praise, no reward, no fame is too great for them. That Lord - Lister still lives to see the triumph of his marvellous services - to humanity is a joy to all of us. And when the profession arose - _en masse_, within the last few years, at the International - Congress of Berlin, and at the meeting of the British Medical - Association in Montreal, and welcomed him with cheer after cheer, - it was but a feeble expression of gratitude for benefits which no - words can express. - - “Before Lister’s day erysipelas, tetanus, gangrene, and - blood-poisoning in its various phases were the constant - attendant of every surgeon. They were dreaded guests at almost - any operation; and when in rare cases we obtained primary union - without a drop of pus, without fever, and with but little - suffering, it was a marvellous achievement. Now it is precisely - reversed. The surgeon who does not get primary union without - a drop of pus, with no fever, and with little suffering, asks - himself—what was the fault in my technic? To open the head, the - abdomen, or the chest thirty years ago was almost equivalent to - signing the death-warrant of a patient. The early mortality of - ovariotomy was about sixty per cent.; two out of three died. Now - many a surgeon can point to a series of one hundred abdominal - operations with a fatality of only two or three per cent. When - Sir Spencer Wells recorded his first one thousand cases of - ovariotomy it was calculated that after deducting the years which - the patients who died from the operation would have lived had no - operation been done the net result of the thousand cases was an - addition of twenty thousand years to human life. One thousand - ovariotomies under antiseptic precautions at the present would - certainly add at least thirty thousand years to human life. Would - not such a guerdon be enough for any man? - - “This, too, is a direct result of laborious laboratory - researches, beginning with the investigations of Liebig and - Pasteur on fermentation. Lister went still further. Even before - the discovery of the bacteria of suppuration, of tetanus, and - of erysipelas he showed us experimentally how, by surgical - cleanliness, we could avoid all infection and so banish these - pests from our hospitals and bring life and health to many who - otherwise would have perished from operations which are now - perfectly safe. - - “The mortality of compound fractures in the pre-antiseptic days - was about sixty per cent. It was one of the most dreaded of - all accidents. Its mortality now is perhaps not over three per - cent., and the mortality from sepsis after such a fracture, in - the hands of well-instructed surgeons, is almost nil. Prior to - Lister’s day the mortality of major amputations varied from fifty - to sixty-three per cent. Now it is from ten to twenty per cent. - And so I might go on with operation after operation and show how - they have become so safe that one need not dread any, saving - exceptional cases. - - “These two modern discoveries, anæsthesia and antisepsis, have - utterly revolutionized modern surgery. They have made possible - operations which, by reason of their length and pain and danger, - were utterly unjustifiable in former days, but are now the daily - occupation of a busy surgeon. And, far better than this, they - have enabled us to bring to homes and hearts, which otherwise - would have been broken up and wrung with sorrow, the comfort of - life restored to dear ones upon whom depended the happiness and - support of the families. Translate figures into happy hearts and - prosperous homes if you can, and then you can tell me what Warren - and Lister have done for humanity!” - -The result of these two wonderful discoveries has been to separate us -from the surgical past, as by a great gulf. - - “Great theologians, such as a Calvin or a Jonathan Edwards, - were they recalled to life, could discourse as learnedly as - ever of predestination and free will; great preachers, as - a Beecher or a Spurgeon, could stir our souls and warm our - hearts as of old; great jurists, as a Justinian or a Marshall, - could expound the same principles of law which hold good for - all time; great forensic orators, as a Burke or a Webster, - could convince us by the same arguments and arouse us by the - same invectives or the same eloquence that made our fathers - willing captives to their silver tongues. But to-day, so rapid - has been our surgical progress, a Velpeau, a Sir William - Ferguson, or a Pancoast, all of whom have died within the - last thirty years, could not teach modern surgical principles - nor perform a modern surgical operation. Even our every-day - surgical vocabulary—staphylococcus, streptococcus, infection, - immunity, antisepsis and asepsis, toxin and antitoxin—would be - unintelligible jargon to him; and our modern operations on the - brain, the chest, the abdomen, and the pelvis would make him - wonder whether we had not lost our senses, until, seeing the - almost uniform and almost painless recoveries, he would thank God - for the magnificent progress of the last half-century, which had - vouchsafed such magical, nay, such almost divine, power to the - modern surgeon.” - - -THE SURGERY OF WAR - -One of the immediate consequences of the introduction of the antiseptic -method has been a remarkable mitigation of the horrors of war. Our -recent war with Spain has proved, and the present military operations -in the Philippines and of the British in South Africa will still -further prove, its advantages. Witness a little book written by -Professor von Esmarch, of Kiel, Germany, with the apt title, _The Fight -of Humanity Against the Horrors of War_; with an appendix, entitled, -“The Samaritan on the Battle-field.” One of the most valuable means -for the preservation of human life is carried by every soldier in a -modern civilized army as a part of his regulation outfit, a “First -Aid Package” for the treatment of any wound or injury; and one of the -most valuable and interesting papers read before the American Surgical -Association, at its meeting in Chicago in 1899, was by Professor -Senn on the “First Aid Package.” This first aid package contains an -antiseptic dressing, which can be applied to all but the gravest wounds -for the purpose of preventing infection, which is the principal danger -to life after accident or injury. The universal testimony of our -surgeons in Cuba was that by its use most wounds were prevented from -becoming infected, and, therefore, inflamed, and that the number of -operations was greatly diminished by reason of its use. - - -BACTERIOLOGY - -In experimental science, two methods of progress are observed; first, -in actual practice certain methods are adopted because they are found -to be the most advantageous and useful, though we cannot explain why -it is so—_i.e._, practice outstrips theory. Again, as a result of -experimental investigation, certain facts are discovered which explain -why the practical methods just alluded to are the best, and this in -turn suggests further improvements in our practice—_i.e._, theory -outstrips practice and enlarges its domain. Thus outstripping theory, -the practical advance made by Lister was an example of the first. His -striking results in turn stimulated scientific observers to make new -discoveries of the greatest importance, and thus science immensely -improved and widened our practical methods. - -No definite year or day can be assigned as the birth-date of Lord -Lister’s antiseptic methods, as we can, for instance, for vaccination -or for anæsthesia. We may assume, at least for this country, the -summer of 1876 as the starting-point. During that year Lord Lister -attended the International Medical Congress held in Philadelphia, -and demonstrated his then methods and convinced a few surgeons of -their immense advantages. Even before that date there had been very -many experiments and observations, especially on the blood. In 1863 -Davaine, in France, had discovered little rod-like bodies in the -blood in wool-sorters’ disease, or anthrax, which he named from their -shape “bacteria,” or “little rods.” This name has been adopted for -all forms of germs, though many of them are not rod-like in their -shape. Not until 1881 was the cause of inflammation and suppuration -(the formation of pus or “matter”) discovered. In that year Ogston, of -Aberdeen, published experiments which he believed demonstrated the -fact that certain bacteria were the cause of suppuration. Since then -this has been amply confirmed not only by experiments upon animals, -but by observation in man. In 1882 Robert Koch, of Berlin, discovered -the cause of tuberculosis, a little rod-like body, which is named the -“bacillus” of tuberculosis. In 1883 Fehleisen discovered the germ -of erysipelas, and in 1887 Nicolaier and Rosenbaum discovered the -bacillus of tetanus or lockjaw. So recent have been the discoveries -in bacteriology which have led to vast improvements in our methods of -treatment of wounds and the performance of operations. - -While the principles established by Lord Lister have remained -unchanged, the details in the treatment have been greatly simplified -and made more efficient. For the information of the general reader, let -me state a few facts. Bacteria are divided into two principal classes, -in accordance with their form. One, known as “cocci,” from the Greek -word coccus—“berry”—may be likened to billiard-balls. Some of these -occur in bunches, which have been likened to bunches of grapes, and -hence are called, again from a Greek term, “staphylococci.” Others are -arranged in chains, like beads, and are called “streptococci.” These -last are very much more virulent and dangerous than the staphylococci. -Both of these produce pus or matter, and they are the most widely -diffused and most common forms found in infected or suppurating -wounds. One form is the cause of erysipelas. A second form, known as -“bacilli,” may be likened to a lead-pencil. Among the various bacilli -that have been discovered are those of tuberculosis, glanders, tetanus -or lockjaw, etc. I omit many others found in medical disorders, as they -do not concern this paper. How important these discoveries are may be -seen by the following facts: Tuberculosis, next to that of suppuration, -is, perhaps, the most widely extended infection to which man, as -well as animals, is liable. We are all familiar with it in the form -of “consumption,” but the non-medical reader is, perhaps, not aware -of the fact that it affects not only the lungs, but also the bowels -in consumption of the bowels; the bones, as is seen by every surgeon -almost daily, and especially as the cause of the crooked backs seen -in spine diseases; in the joints, as is seen in hip-joint disease, -white swelling of the knee, ankle-joint disease, and similar disease -of all the other large joints of the body; in the brain, in tubercular -meningitis; in the abdominal cavity, in tubercular peritonitis; in -the skin, in certain forms of ulceration, commonly called lupus; in -the glands, as in the swollen glands, or “bunches,” in the neck, and -endless other varieties which I need not name. - -The bacillus of lockjaw is found in great abundance around stables, and -this explains the fact that hostlers, drivers, cavalrymen, all of whom -had to do with horses, are especially liable to attacks of lockjaw. -Moreover, certain bacteria thrive best when exposed to the open air. -Other bacteria, and among them the bacilli of lockjaw, thrive best when -the air is excluded, and this explains the danger of treading on a -rusty nail, which is popularly and rightly known as peculiarly liable -to produce lockjaw. The reason is not because it is a nail, nor because -it is old, nor because it is rusty, but because from the earth in which -it lies it is most apt to be the means of introducing into a punctured -wound the bacilli of lockjaw. Such a wound bleeds but very little, the -blood soon crusts and excludes the air, and if any of the bacilli of -lockjaw have been carried into the body, they find in such a closed -wound, from which the air is excluded, the most favorable conditions -for growth and infection of the whole body. Knowing these facts from -experiment, the treatment is clear. Lay open such a wound and disinfect -it. - -These two forms, the “cocci,” or berry-like bacteria, and the -“bacilli,” or rod-like bacteria, comprise the great majority of -dangerous bacteria. - -It must be remembered that there is an enormous number of bacteria -which are not dangerous; some of them are entirely harmless even -if introduced into the human body. Others are the bacteria of -decomposition, or putrefaction, which are known as “saprophytic” -bacteria. All of the harmless ones are known as “non-pathogenic,” that -is, non-producers of disease. Those which produce disease are known -as “pathogenic,” and those which produce suppuration as “pyogenic” or -pus-producing bacteria. - -All of these bacteria are plants, and not, as is very frequently -supposed, animals of a low form. The danger from their introduction -into the body can be best appreciated, perhaps, by the statement -of Belfield, who estimated that a single bacterium which weighs, -approximately, only the 1-40,000,000 part of a grain, if given plenty -of food and plenty of “elbow room,” would so rapidly develop that in -three days it would form a mass weighing 800 tons! It is the old story -of the blacksmith who was to get a penny for the first nail, two for -the second, four for the third, and so on till a set of shoes would -cost more than Crœsus could pay for. - -The effect of the bacteria has been determined by experiment to be -proportionate to the dose. A cubic centimetre is a cube two-fifths -of an inch on each side. One-tenth of such a cube of pure culture of -one bacterium (_Proteus vulgaris_) contains 225,000,000 bacteria, -and if injected under the skin of a rabbit will produce death. -Less than 18,000,000 will produce no effect whatever. Of one kind -of staphylococcus, if 250,000,000 are introduced under the skin of -a rabbit there will be produced a small abscess, but it requires -1,000,000,000 to produce speedy death. On the other hand, of the -bacillus of lockjaw it requires only 1000 to produce death, so virulent -is this germ. - -Moreover, their effect on tissues and persons in different states -varies very much. Thus, it is found that when a certain number of -bacteria are injected into the cavity of the abdomen of an animal, if -the animal is healthy and the peritoneum (the thin lining membrane -of the abdomen) is healthy, the animal will recover perfectly well; -but if the peritoneum be scraped and torn (and it must be remembered -that the healthy peritoneum is devoid of sensation), that the same -dose which before was harmless will now produce a violent peritonitis -and very likely death. The practical lesson from this experiment upon -animals is very evident. Every surgeon who opens the abdomen is most -careful, if possible, not to injure the peritoneum, but manipulates -with the greatest care lest fatal results follow any serious injury -to that membrane. So, too, if the general health be impaired, it is -found that an injection from which a healthy animal would recover will -be followed by fatal consequences if the general health is below par. -Again, if an animal has a simple fracture of his thigh-bone, and that -is the only injury that he receives, no infection from the exterior -having occurred, he will make a good recovery; but if at the same time -he receives a lacerated wound, it may be even in another part of the -body, and this wound, not being cared for most scrupulously, becomes -infected, the infection will fasten on the distant spot of least -resistance, the broken thigh-bone, and will produce a most dangerous -and very frequently fatal form of inflammation. - -I need scarcely point out in this connection, as in fact throughout -this entire consideration of bacteriology, how important a part in -its development has been played by experiment upon animals. The -experimental facts just stated are of vital importance in the treatment -of surgical diseases, and evidently could not have been determined -upon mankind. It is not too much to say that had vivisection been -restricted or prohibited the surgery of to-day would be the barbarous -surgery of thirty years ago. - -Even granting that an enormous number of the bacteria are harmless, -the wonder is that with so many foes on every hand we live an ordinary -lifetime. Fortunately, however, in the human body there is not only a -lack of food sufficient and “elbow room” enough for them to work their -dire effects, but there is that which “makes for righteousness” in our -physical organization as well as in our souls. - -The moment that bacteria are introduced into the human body a certain -number of cells hasten to destroy them. These are called “phagocytes” -or devouring cells, because they eat up the bacteria. Whether the -patient survives or dies depends on whether the bacteria get the upper -hand of the phagocytes or the phagocytes the upper hand of the bacteria. - -These statements are very easy to make, but the results have only been -obtained by prolonged and laborious investigations in the laboratory -and by experiments upon animals which have demonstrated these facts. - -The bacteria are recognized by various methods: First, by form. Many -which are identical in appearance, however, differ greatly in effects. -A handful of turnip-seed and a handful of rape-seed look very much -alike, but if they are planted the plants differ so greatly that we can -recognize the difference in the seed by the difference in the crop; -hence the second method of recognizing differences in bacteria is by -planting them. Different methods have been practised. Some are sown on -the raw surface of a potato; others on bread paste; others in certain -jelly-like materials, such as gelatine or agar-agar. It was soon found -as a result of these experiments that the bacteria flourished best, -some in one soil, some in another. Again, the crops of mould which come -from them differ greatly in color, some being black, some red, some -white, some yellow, etc. A third method also is by staining them with -various dyes, when it is found that some bacteria will take one stain -best, others will take another, and so on through the whole list. - -At first it was thought that these bacteria existed chiefly in the air, -and hence in Lister’s early methods powerful spray-producing apparatus -were used; but while it is true that they do exist in the air, it is -found that this is not the principal source of infection. There is no -substance (which has not been disinfected) that is not covered with -the germs of these little plants. They exist in our food and drink; -but the intestine is, one may say, a natural home in which many exist -without harm to the body. For surgical purposes their existence is most -important, first, in the earth, where, as I have already shown, the -bacillus of lockjaw is most frequently found. So, too, the bacillus of -wool-sorters’ disease (_Anthrax_) exists in the earth. If an animal -dying of anthrax is buried, worms coming from the carcass up through -the ground carry the infection, so that other animals grazing over -this surface will become readily infected. The means by which we can -avoid infection from the earth is very evident, viz., every person -who has been run over by the cars or who has fallen on the ground and -broken his leg, etc., must have the wound most carefully cleansed from -all dirt. If this is scrupulously done the danger of tetanus or other -similar earth-born bacterial disease is almost nothing. - -A still greater danger to every patient, however, is found in the -clothing, in the skin, and all dressings which are applied to wounds. -The skin is full of bacteria of the most dangerous kind; even the -spotless hands of the bride, in the eyes of the surgeon, are dirty. -No one can touch a wound with ordinarily clean hands without infecting -it. All clothing, dressings—_e.g._, lint and soft linen rags, and such -like—are full of bacteria of the most dangerous kind. Perhaps the most -dangerous place is the space under the nails of the surgeon’s hand, for -the mere mechanical removal of any dirt under the nails by cleansing -them does not make them clean surgically. The nails must be cut short -and prepared in a way I shall mention directly, or they are full of -peril to any patient into whose wound a non-disinfected finger is -introduced. Again, another source of infection which thirty years ago -we never thought of is our instruments. Then instruments were washed -with soap and water and were made clean to the eye, but they were still -covered with invisible death-dealing bacteria which hid especially in -the joints and irregularities of the surface of all instruments. - -All of these somewhat detailed statements lead up to a consideration -of the difference between the old surgery and the new. Thirty years -ago when an operation was to be performed or an accident cared for we -laid out our instruments which were visibly clean, used them with hands -which were as clean as those of any gentleman, and applied soft linen -rags, lint, and other dressings. To-day we know that these apparently -clean instruments, hands, and dressings are covered with bacteria, -which produce infection, and, therefore, suppuration, and frequently -run riot in blood-poisoning, erysipelas, lockjaw, and death. - -How does a modern surgeon perform an operation? All bacteria can be -killed by heat. Cold has no effect upon them, but the temperature of -boiling water (212° Fahr.) is sufficient to destroy them all usually -within fifteen or twenty minutes; hence, first, instruments are all -boiled; and, secondly, dressings are either steeped in such solutions -as have been found to destroy the bacteria, such as carbolic acid or -corrosive sublimate, or other preparations, or, still better, are -placed in sterilizers, that is to say, metal cylinders, which are -then filled with steam, usually under pressure, so as to obtain a -temperature of 240° Fahr., and thus make sure of the death of the -bacteria. Unfortunately, our hands cannot be boiled or steamed, but -the modern surgeon first uses soap and water most vigorously over -his hands and arms up to the elbow. The nails are cut short and the -scrubbing-brush is especially applied to the nails so as to clean the -fingers at the ends. Then by various means, such as pure alcohol, which -is one of our best disinfectants, or solutions of corrosive sublimate, -and other means too technical to mention, the hands are sterilized. -Rubber gloves are frequently used, so as to preclude infection, as they -can be steamed to 240° Fahr. Removing at least his outer clothing, the -surgeon puts on a cotton gown which has been steamed and so made free -from bacteria. Not a few surgeons also wear sterilized caps, so that -any bacteria in the hair will not be sifted into a wound, and some wear -respirators of sterile gauze over the mouth and beard for the same -reason. All the dressings have been sterilized by superheated steam. -All the threads by which blood-vessels are tied have been either boiled -or otherwise sterilized. All the material for sewing up the wounds, and -the needles with which they are sewn, have been similarly disinfected. -The skin of the patient is also sterilized, usually the day beforehand, -in the same manner in which the surgeon’s hands have been disinfected, -and are disinfected a second time just at the moment of the operation. -If the case is one of accident, such as a crushed leg from a -trolley-car, all of the dirt is most carefully washed away with soap -and water, and the parts are disinfected, not only on the exterior, but -also by prolonged washing with some cleansing agent in the interior of -the wound, the patient being under the influence of ether, of course. - -It is easily seen from such a description of a modern operation that no -case can receive due care in one of our modern homes, even the best. -The facilities do not exist, and hence surgeons are more and more -declining to do operations, whether for accident or disease, in private -houses, except in a case of absolute necessity, and a happy custom -is growing more and more in favor with the community of having all -operations and all accidents cared for in a well-equipped hospital. - - -RESULTS OF MODERN SURGERY - -As the result of our ability to perform operations without pain, thanks -to anæsthesia, and our ability to perform operations without infection, -and, therefore, almost without danger, thanks to antisepsis, the range -of modern surgery has been enormously increased. Unless one has lived -through the old surgery and into the new he scarcely can appreciate -this widening of the field of operative surgery. Thirty years ago, in -consequence of the great danger of opening the head, the chest, or the -abdomen, or, in fact, of making an incision anywhere about the body, -the surgeon never dared to interfere until he was obliged to do so. -Hence, not only were many modern operations not even thought of, but in -obscure cases we had to wait until time and disease developed symptoms -and physical signs such that we were sure of our diagnosis, and then, -knowing that death would follow if we did not interfere, we ventured -to operate. Now we anticipate such a fatal termination, and in most -cases can avert it. In perhaps no class of cases has the benefit of -this immunity from infection and danger been shown than in the obscure -diseases of the brain and the abdomen. To-day, if we are uncertain as -to whether there is serious danger going on which, if unchecked, will -result in death, we deliberately open the one cavity or the other, -in order to find out the exact state of affairs. Supposing that the -mischief is trifling, or even that there is no mischief, we then know -how to deal with the symptoms which have been puzzling us. So far as -the exploratory operation is concerned, the patient recovers from it -in a short time, and, meantime, perhaps has also been cured of the -symptoms which were before so ill understood. If any serious disease -is found, in the majority of cases we can cope with it successfully. -Before the days of antisepsis and anæsthesia the field of operation was -greatly restricted, and practically the removal of tumors, amputations, -and a few other operations were all that were done. Now all the then -inaccessible organs are attacked with an intrepidity born of an -assurance of safety. Recovery usually sets the seal of approval on -the judgment of the surgeon. Thirty years ago, taking all operations -together, fully one-third of our patients died, many of them often from -slight operations which were followed by infection. To-day, including -even the far more grave operations which are now done, the general -mortality will scarcely exceed five per cent., and many surgeons are -able, in a series of several hundred operations, to save ninety-seven -out of every hundred patients! - - -SERUM TREATMENT - -Another remarkable recent discovery, the result of numerous and careful -investigations in the laboratory, is a wholly new means of treatment, -viz., that method which is known as orrhotherapy, or serumtherapy, -or the treatment by injecting certain antitoxins under the skin by -a hypodermatic syringe. It would lead me too far to enter into the -theory upon which these were first used. Suffice it to say that in -the blood of an animal that has passed through a certain disorder -the liquid part of the blood contains an antidote or antitoxin. If a -certain amount of this is injected under the skin of an animal or man -suffering from the same disorder in its incipient stages, the antitoxin -prevents the development of the disease. The use of this method has -thus far been much more medical than surgical, and its results in -diphtheria and other medical disorders have been perfectly marvellous. -In surgery, however, less favorable results have been obtained, but in -all probability in the future we shall be able to do for some of our -surgical disorders what the physician can do to-day for diphtheria. -[For the results in diphtheria, see Professor Osler’s paper.] - -There has also been discovered another means which in surgery has -rendered some valuable service. From certain organs, as, for instance, -the thyroid gland (the gland whose enlargement produces goitre), we can -obtain a very potent extract of great value. In cases of goitre very -noteworthy results have already been obtained by the administration -of the thyroid extract. A number of other organs in the body of -animals have been used to combat certain disorders in the human body -with advantage. The chief development of both of these new forms of -medication, however, will take place in the twentieth century. - - -INSTRUMENTS OF PRECISION - -Another direction in which the century has seen enormous progress is -in the introduction of instruments of precision. When I was a student -in the early 60’s, instruction in microscopy was conspicuous only -by its absence from our medical curriculum. Now every student who -graduates is more or less of an accomplished microscopist, and carries -into his practice the methods and observations which the microscope -furnishes. At the same period I remember being greatly interested in a -discussion which two of my teachers had as to whether it was possible -to make an application accurately to the vocal chords in the larynx. -Now every tyro in medicine makes such applications to the larynx as a -routine procedure in cases requiring it, and similar methods have been -applied by the ophthalmoscope to examine the interior of the eye; the -rhinoscope, to examine the interior of the nose; the otoscope, for -examination of the ear; and other similar instruments for examining all -the other hollow organs in the body. If I add to these the hypodermatic -syringe; the aspirator, which may be described as a large hypodermatic -syringe for suction instead of injection; the clinical thermometer, -which was introduced in the late 60’s; the hemostatic forceps, for -controlling hemorrhage by seizing the blood-vessels and clamping them -till we have time to tie them; and other instruments intended to -facilitate our operative methods, it will be seen at once that the -armamentarium of the modern surgeon is very different from that of his -predecessor at the beginning, or even at the middle, of the century. - - -THE RÖNTGEN RAY - -One of those extraordinary discoveries which startle the whole world -came nearly at the end of the nineteenth century, in the winter of -1895–96. At that time a modest professor in the University of Würzburg -announced that he could readily see the skeleton inside the body -through the flesh! Naturally, the first announcement was received with -almost absolute incredulity; but very soon his discovery was confirmed -from all sides, and it has now taken its place among the recognized -phenomena of science. By means of certain rays, which, being of unknown -nature, were called “X”-rays, after the well-known mathematical X, or -unknown quantity, Professor Röntgen has shown us that not only can the -bones be seen, but that almost every substance in the body can be seen -and reproduced in pictures. The reason for this is because they are -all obstacles to the passage of these X-rays and so produce shadows -on a sensitized photographic plate. If the exposure is sufficiently -prolonged the rays penetrate even through the bones and act upon the -photographic plate, so that no shadow remains. If the rays are allowed -to penetrate for a shorter time the bones show dense shadows, and one -can get a light shadow of the soft parts. If the exposure is still -shorter, then we can recognize the dense shadow of the bone, the much -less dense shadows of the muscles, and the still lighter shadows of -the layer of fat immediately under the skin. The heart can be seen -beating, and its shadow is now a well-recognized feature in skiagraphs -of the chest. At first it was thought impossible to discover anything -inside the bony skull, but there are now on record nearly a score of -instances in which bullets have been detected within the skull, and -after trephining have been found and removed exactly at the location -indicated. It is a very common thing now to locate a piece of steel -or other similar foreign bodies within the eyeball by the method of -Dr. Sweet, or some similar method, within one or two millimetres (a -millimetre is one-twenty-fifth of an inch). It is now well recognized -that even stones in the kidney will throw shadows sufficiently strong -for them to be recognized, and by noting their level in relation to -the vertebræ we can tell precisely in what part of the kidney to make -the incision in order to find and remove them. It has happened to -myself and many other surgeons in the past to cut down upon a kidney, -believing that there was a stone in the kidney, only to find that we -had been misled by the apparently clear symptoms of such a foreign -body. In future no such mistake should be made by any surgeon within -reach of a skilful skiagrapher. Unfortunately, gall stones and numerous -other foreign bodies, vegetable substances such as beans, corn, wood, -etc., being as transparent to the X-rays as are the soft parts, are not -revealed by means of this new method of investigation; but cavities -in the lung, abscesses in bone, and similar diseases which produce -thinning of the lung, bone, and other such organs, and so lighten -instead of deepen the shadows, can now be recognized by means of light -spots in the pictures as well as others by means of a shadow. - -I spoke a moment ago of the need of a “skilful” skiagrapher, for -it must be remembered that there may be the same difference in the -personal skill, and, therefore, in the reliability of the results in -skiagraphy as there is in photography. A poor photographer will get -very different results from a skilful one, even if he uses precisely -the same quality of plates and precisely the same camera. Personal -skill and experience in the skiagrapher is, therefore, one of the most -important elements in success. It must be remembered also that the -X-rays in not a few cases may mislead us. I have, personally, fractured -a bone on account of deformity, taken an X-ray picture immediately -after the operation, the picture showing not the slightest evidence -of a fracture, which I absolutely knew existed. Moreover, foreign -bodies found on the outside of the person may mislead us, as, for -example, the metal part of suspenders, a coin in one’s pocket, and -such like. They look in the picture as if they were inside rather than -outside the body, and any article the shape or size of which would not -reveal its nature might easily be mistaken for a foreign body within -the patient. Therefore, in many cases only an expert can determine -precisely what the skiagraph means. I especially mention this, because -there is a tendency at present to utilize skiagraphs in court in -order to convince the jury that such a picture is an evidence of -malpractice. Such pictures always need an interpreter in order to judge -correctly of their meaning. It is precisely as if the jury were asked -to look through a microscope. I have been myself accustomed to use the -microscope for thirty years, but there are many instances even yet in -which I am obliged to ask a pathologist or bacteriologist what I really -am looking at in the microscope. While one may make a mistake of small -moment in some cases, yet if a man’s life or liberty or purse is at -the mercy of a jury which does not know how to interpret a skiagraph, -and, may, therefore, give a verdict which is “precisely wrong,” as -Professor Lincoln, my old teacher of Latin, used to call many of our -translations, it will be a very serious matter and lead to gross -injustice. - - -CITY AND VILLAGE HOSPITALS - -Another great improvement in our means of caring for our surgical -patients is the establishment of hospitals all over the land. These, -happily, are not limited to our great cities, but in every country town -and not a few large villages small but well-equipped and well-managed -hospitals have been established which have done incalculable good. It -is not too much to say that every city or town establishing such a -hospital is repaid a hundredfold. - - -TRAINED NURSES - -The trained nurse has fortunately come to stay. In fact, our antiseptic -methods as above described have made the trained nurse indispensable. -The old nurse, who, by many clumsy experiments on her patients, -had obtained a certain rule-of-thumb knowledge of the care of the -sick, can no longer assist in a surgical operation or properly care -for any surgical patient. The modern nurse must of necessity be a -well-educated, well-trained woman, knowing thoroughly modern antiseptic -methods, and on the alert to observe every symptom of improvement and -every signal of danger. - -Without a well-trained nurse it is impossible at the present day -properly to care for any serious surgical case, and I gladly bear -witness to the intelligence, fidelity, and skill of scores of nurses -who have assisted me, and without whom I should have felt as one blade -of a scissors without its fellow. - - -SPECIAL OPERATIONS - -_Amputations and Compound Fractures._—Having now traced the different -modes of thought which have aided surgical progress in the nineteenth -century and the improved means of investigation, let us turn finally to -the progress in individual operations. As to amputations and compound -fractures, I have already indicated the immense improvements which have -followed the introduction of anæsthesia, and especially of antisepsis, -which have brought the mortality of amputations down from fifty or -sixty per cent. to ten or fifteen per cent., and in compound fractures, -once so dreaded, since the mortality was not infrequently as high as -two out of three, to a relatively insignificant danger. - -_Tumors._—In no department, perhaps, has the introduction of -antisepsis, and the use of catgut and silk ligatures after the -antiseptic method, brought about a greater improvement than in -operations for tumors. The startling reluctance of Sir Astley Cooper -to operate on King George IV. for so simple and small a tumor as a -wen, lest erysipelas might follow and even destroy his life, is in -marked contrast with the success and therefore the boldness of modern -surgeons. Tumors in all parts of the body, whether they be external or -internal, whether they involve the wall of the chest or are inside the -abdomen, are now removed with almost perfect safety. Anæsthesia has -made it possible to dissect out tumors in so dangerous a region as the -neck, where the surgeon is confronted with adhesions to the jugular -vein, the carotid artery, and the nerves of the neck and of the arm, -with the greatest impunity. Such an operation not uncommonly lasts from -three-quarters of an hour to an hour and a half, and involves often -the removal of two or three inches of the jugular vein and many of the -large nerves, the removal of which a few years ago would have been -deemed an impossibility. - -_Goitre._—One of the most striking instances of progress is operations -on goitre. Writing in 1876, the late Professor Samuel D. Gross noted it -as something remarkable that Dr. Green, of Portland, Maine, had removed -seven goitres with two deaths, and the late Dr. Maury, of Philadelphia, -had extirpated two goitres with one death. In marked contrast to this -Professor Kocher, of Berne, in 1895, reported one thousand cases, of -which eight hundred and seventy were non-cancerous, and he lost of -these last but eleven cases, or a little over one per cent. In 1898 he -reported six hundred additional cases, with only one death in the five -hundred and fifty-six non-cancerous cases, or a mortality of only 0.1 -per cent. It will be seen, therefore, that an operation which a few -years ago was excessively fatal has become almost, one might say, a -perfectly safe operation. - -_Surgery of the Bones._—Operations on bones, apart from amputations, -show also a similar improvement. In cases of deformity following -fracture we now do not hesitate to cut down upon the bone and -refracture it or remove the deformed portion, join the ends together, -dress the part in plaster of Paris to secure fixation, and have the -patient recover with little or no fever and no suppuration. Above the -elbow a large nerve runs in a furrow in the arm bone, and in case of -fracture this is liable to be torn and a portion of it destroyed. The -result of it is paralysis of all the muscles on the back of the forearm -from the elbow down and consequent inability to extend either wrist or -fingers, making the hand almost useless. In a number of cases the nerve -has been sought for and found, but the ends have been too far apart -for successful union and sewing them together. In such cases we do not -hesitate now, in order to bring the two ends of the nerve together, -to remove one or two inches of the arm bone, wire the shortened -bone, sew the now approximated ends of the nerve together, put the -arm in plaster, and as soon as the wound is healed, with appropriate -later treatment to the muscles we can obtain in a reasonable number -of cases a perfect, or almost perfect, union of the nerves with a -re-establishment of the usefulness of the hand. - -In very many cases the bones are deformed as a result of rickets, and -in some cases in consequence of hip-joint disease. In such cases the -leg is crooked or flexed, and cannot be used for walking. Such cases -of stiff joints and crooked legs are now operated on, one might say, -wholesale. At the International Medical Congress, held in Copenhagen in -1884, Professor Macewen, of Glasgow, reported 1800 operations on 1267 -limbs in 704 patients, in which he had sawn or chiselled through the -bones so as to fracture them, placed them in a straight position, and -after a few weeks the bone has become consolidated and the leg or arm -made straight. Every one of these operations was successful, excepting -five cases, and even these deaths were not due to the operation, but -to some other disorder, such as an unexpected attack of pneumonia, -diphtheria, or scarlet fever. - -_Surgery of the Head and Brain._—In the surgery of the head we find -one of the most remarkable illustrations of the modern progress of -surgery. Fractures of the skull have been the most dangerous and fatal -of accidents until within a short time. Of course, many of them must -necessarily, even now, be fatal, from the widespread injury to the -bones and the brain. But our modern methods, by which we can disinfect -the cavities of the ear, the nose, and the mouth, with which these -fractures often communicate, and through these avenues become infected, -are so successful that such cases, instead of being looked upon as -hopeless, are in a majority of instances followed by recovery. Even -gun-shot wounds, in which the ball may remain inside the cavity of the -head, are successfully dealt with, unless the injury produced by the -ball has been necessarily fatal from the start. Fluhrer, of New York, -has reported a very remarkable case of gun-shot wound, in which the -ball entered at the forehead, traversed the entire brain, was deflected -at the back of the skull, and then pursued its course farther downward -in the brain. By trephining the skull at the back he found the ball, -passed a rubber drainage tube through the entire brain from front to -back, and had the satisfaction of seeing the patient recover. - -Until 1884 it was excessively difficult to locate with any degree -of accuracy a tumor within the brain, but in that year Dr. Bennett, -of London, for the first time accurately located a tumor within the -skull without there being the slightest evidence on the exterior of -its existence, much less of its location. Mr. Godlee (surgeons in -England are not called “Dr.,” but “Mr.”) trephined the skull at the -point indicated, found the tumor, and removed it. True, this patient -died, but the possibility of accurately locating a tumor of the -brain, reaching it and removing it, was now demonstrated, which is -far more important to humanity at large than whether this individual -patient survived or not. Since then there have been a very large -number of tumors successfully removed. The latest statistics are those -of Von Bergmann, of Berlin, in 1898. He collected 273 operations for -brain tumors, of which 169 (61.9 per cent.) recovered, and 104 (38.1 -per cent.) died. This is by far the best percentage of results so -far reported, but there is reason to believe that with the constant -improvement in our ability to locate such tumors and in our methods of -removing them, the mortality rate will be still further lessened. - -Even more successful than the surgery of brain tumors has been the -surgery of abscess of the brain. I have no available statistics of -the exact numbers, but it is certain that several hundred have been -operated on, and with even better success than in the case of brain -tumors. The most frequent cause for such abscesses is old and neglected -disease of the ear. No child suffering from a “running from the ear,” -which is especially apt to follow scarlet fever and other similar -disorders, should be allowed to pass from under the most skilled -treatment until a cure is effected. This is the commonest cause of -abscess of the brain. The inflammation in the ear, which begins in the -soft lining of the cavities of the ear, finally extends to the bone, -and after years of intermittent discharge, will suddenly develop an -abscess of the brain, which, if not relieved, will certainly be fatal. -Prompt surgical interference alone can save life, and, happily, though -we cannot promise recovery in all, a very large percentage of success -is assured. - -In epilepsy, as a result of injuries of the head, in a moderate number -of cases, we can obtain a cure of the disease by operation, but in the -great majority of cases, and, one may say, practically in all of the -cases in which the epilepsy originates “of itself,” that is to say, -without any known cause, it is useless to operate, certainly at least -after the epileptic habit has been formed. Possibly were operation done -at the very beginning we might obtain better results than experience -thus far has shown us is possible. - -Very many cases of idiocy are constantly brought to surgeons in -the hope that something can be done for these lamentable children. -Unfortunately, at present surgery holds out but little hope in such -cases. In a few exceptional instances it may be best to operate, but a -prudent surgeon will decline to do any operation in the vast majority -of cases. - -_Surgery of the Chest and Heart._—The chest is the region of the -body which has shown the least progress of all, and yet even here -the progress is very marked. When, as a result of pleurisy, fluid -accumulates on one side of the chest, even displacing the heart, we -now do not hesitate to remove an inch or two of one or more ribs and -thoroughly drain the cavity, with not only a reasonable, but in a -majority of cases, one may almost say, a certain, prospect of cure. -We have also entered upon the road which will lead us in time to a -secure surgery of the lung itself. A few cases of abscess, of serious -gun-shot wound, attended by otherwise fatal hemorrhage, and even of -tubercular cavities in the lungs have been successfully dealt with, but -the twentieth century will see, I have no doubt, brilliant results in -thoracic surgery. - -One of the most striking injuries of the chest has recently assumed a -new importance, viz., wounds of the heart itself. In several instances -an opening has been made in the bony and muscular walls of the chest, -and a wound of the heart itself has been sewed up. The number is as -yet small, but there have been several recoveries, which lead us to -believe that here, too, the limits of surgery have by no means been -reached. - -_Surgery of the Abdomen._—Of the abdomen and the pelvis a very -different story can be told. These cavities might almost be called the -playground of the surgeon, and the remarkable results which have been -obtained warrant us in believing that even greater results are in store -for us in the future. - -In the earlier part of this article I spoke of the advantages of -the study of the pathological anatomy or the diseased condition of -individual organs. Perhaps no better illustration of the value of -this can be given than in the studies of appendicitis. This operation -has been one of the contributions to the surgery of the world in -which America has been foremost. While there were one or two earlier -papers, Willard Parker, of New York, in 1867, first made the profession -listen to him when he urged that abscesses appearing above the right -groin should be operated on and the patient’s life saved. But it was -not until Fitz, of Boston, in 1888, published his paper, in which -he pointed out, as a result of a study of a series of post-mortem -examinations of persons dying from such an abscess above the right -groin, that the appendix was the seat of the trouble, that this so -frequent disease was rightly understood and rightly treated. - -As a result of the facts gathered in his paper, the treatment was -perfectly clear, not only that we ought to operate in cases of abscess, -but that in the case of patients suffering from two or more attacks, -and often from even one attack of appendicitis, the appendix should be -removed to prevent such abscess. - -The mortality in cases in which such an abscess has formed is, perhaps, -quite twenty or twenty-five per cent., whereas, if patients are -operated on “in the interval,” that is to say, between attacks, when -the abdominal cavity is free from pus, the mortality is scarcely more -than two or three per cent., and may be even less than that. - -Surgeons are often asked whether appendicitis is not a fad, and whether -our grandfathers ever had appendicitis, etc. As a matter of fact, in -my early professional days, appendicitis was well known. It was called -“localized peritonitis” or localized “abscess,” but while the disease -was very frequent, its relation to the appendix was not recognized -until from his study of its pathology an American pointed it out. Even -now European surgeons, with a few exceptions, are not alive to the need -for operation in such cases. - -There is little doubt that the great prevalence of grippe during the -last few years has increased the number of cases of appendicitis, -both of them being catarrhal conditions of the lining membrane of the -same continuous tract of the lungs, the mouth, the stomach, and the -intestines. - -One of the most fatal accidents that can befall a patient is to have -an ulcer of the stomach perforate so that the contents of the stomach -escape into the general abdominal cavity. Until 1885 no one ventured -to operate in such a case. In an inaugural dissertation by Tinker, of -Philadelphia, two hundred and thirty-two cases of such perforating -ulcers of the stomach were reported, of which one hundred and -twenty-three recovered, a mortality of 48.81 per cent. In not a few of -them, if prompt instead of late surgical help had been invoked, a very -different result would have been reported. If no operation had been -done, the mortality would have been one hundred per cent. - -In cancer of the stomach itself we are able, as a rule, to make a -positive diagnosis only when a perceptible tumor is found. By that -time so many adhesions have formed, and the infection has involved the -neighboring glands to such an extent, that it is impossible to remove -the tumor, but the statistics even here are not without encouragement, -at least for comfort if not for life. In many cases the tumor has -been removed and the stomach and intestine joined together by various -devices, and the mortality, which is necessarily great, has been -reduced by Czerny to twelve per cent. and by Carle to seven per cent. -Even the entire stomach has been removed in several cases, and recovery -has followed in about one-half. Most of these patients, however, have -died from a return of the disease. - -When, as a result of swallowing caustic lye or other similar -substances, the gullet (the œsophagus) becomes contracted to such an -extent that no food can be swallowed, we now establish an opening into -the stomach through which a tube is inserted at meal-time, and the -patient has his breakfast, dinner, and supper poured into his stomach -through the tube. If the stricture of the œsophagus is from malignant -disease, of course this only prolongs life by preventing a horrible -death by starvation, but in cases in which it is non-malignant life -is indefinitely prolonged. The mortality of such an operation is very -small. - -By a freak of nature or by disease the stomach sometimes is narrowed -in the middle, forming what is called an “hour-glass stomach.” In such -a case we open the abdomen, make an opening into the two parts of the -stomach and unite the two so that we re-establish the single cavity -of the stomach. The mortality of the operation is very slight, eight -per cent. Again, sometimes the stomach becomes unduly dilated, thus -interfering seriously with its function. A number of surgeons in such -cases have simply folded over the wall of the stomach upon itself and -have sewed the two layers together, taking a plait or “tuck” in the -stomach wall, and have restored it to its normal capacity and function. - -One of the most important advances has been made in the treatment -of gall stones. The bile in the gall bladder is in a state of -quiescence, which is favorable to a deposit of crystals from the bile. -These crystals become agglutinated together into larger or smaller -solid masses called gall stones. Sometimes the number of these is -very small, from one to four or five; sometimes they accumulate in -enormous numbers, several hundreds having been reported in a number of -instances. When they are small they can escape through the duct of the -gall bladder into the bowel and create no disturbance, but when they -are large, so that they cannot make their escape, they not uncommonly -are causes not only of serious discomfort and prolonged ill-health, but -often prove fatal. Nowadays one of the safest operations of surgery -is to open the abdomen and the gall bladder and remove this menace -to life, and the great majority of such patients recover without any -untoward symptoms. Even large abscesses of the liver, and, what is -still more extraordinary, large tumors of the liver, are now removed -successfully. A year ago all of the reported cases of tumor of the -liver were collected which had been operated from 1888 to 1898, -seventy-six in all. The termination in two cases was unknown, but -of the other seventy-four, sixty-three recovered and eleven died, a -mortality of only 14.9 per cent. - -The surgery of the intestines by itself is a subject which could well -occupy the entire space allowed to this article. I can only, in a very -superficial way, outline what has been done. Hernia or rupture is a -condition in which through an opening in the abdominal wall a loop of -the bowel escapes. If it can be replaced and kept within the abdomen -by a suitable truss this was the best we could do till within the -last ten or fifteen years. The safety and the painlessness of modern -surgery which have resulted from the introduction of anæsthesia and -antisepsis are such that now no person suffering from such a hernia, -unless for some special personal reason, should be allowed to rely upon -a truss, which is always a more or less treacherous means of retaining -the hernia. We operate on all such cases now with impunity. Coley has -recently reported a series of six hundred and thirty-nine cases, all of -which recovered with the exception of one patient. Even in children, -if a truss worn for a reasonable time, a year or so, does not cure the -rupture, operation affords an admirable prospect of cure. - -Every now and then a band forms inside the abdomen, stretching like -a string across the cavity. If a loop of bowel slips under such a -band, it can be easily understood that total arrest of the intestinal -contents ensues, a condition incompatible with life. There are other -causes for such “intestinal obstruction,” which are too technical to -be described in detail, but this may be taken as a type of all. It is -impossible, of course, to tell before opening the abdomen precisely -the cause of the obstruction, but the fact is quickly determined in -most cases. If we open the abdomen promptly, we can cut such a band or -remove the other causes of obstruction in the majority of cases, and -if the operation has not been too long delayed, the prospect of entire -recovery is good. The mortality which has followed such operations has -been considerable, and by that I mean, say, over twenty per cent., -but a very large number of the fatal cases have been lost because the -operation has been delayed. In fact, it may be stated very positively -that the mere opening of the abdomen to find out precisely the nature -of any disease or injury is attended with but little danger. If further -surgical interference is required, the danger will be increased -proportionately to the extent and gravity of such interference. -But “exploratory operations,” as we call them, are now undertaken -constantly with almost uniform success. - -Even in cancer of the bowel, we can prolong life, if we cannot save -it. Cancer of the bowel sooner or later produces “obstruction” and -so destroys life, but in such cases we can either make a permanent -opening in the bowel above the cancer, and so relieve the constant pain -and distress which is caused by the obstruction, or, in a great many -cases, we make an opening in the bowel above the cancer, and another -below it, and, by uniting the two openings, if I may so express it, -“side-track” the contents of the bowel. If the cancer has no adhesions -and the patient’s condition allows of it, we can cut out the entire -portion of the bowel containing the cancer, unite the two ends, and -thus re-establish the continuity of the intestinal canal. As much as -eight feet, nearly one-third of the entire length of the bowel, have -been removed by Shepherd, of Montreal, and yet the patient recovered -and lived a healthy life. - -Similarly in gun-shot wounds, stab wounds, etc., involving the -intestine, the modern surgeon does not simply stand by with folded -hands and give opium and morphine to make the patient’s last few hours -or days relatively comfortable, but he opens the abdomen, finds the -various perforations, closes them, and recovery has followed even in -cases in which as many as seventeen wounds of the intestine have been -produced by a gun-shot wound. - -The kidney, until thirty years ago, was deemed almost beyond our -reach, but now entire volumes have been written on the surgery of the -kidney, and it is, one might say, a frequent occurrence to see the -kidney exposed, sewed fast if it is loose, opened to remove a stone in -its interior, drained if there be an abscess, or, if it be hopelessly -diseased, it is removed in its entirety. The other kidney, if not -diseased, becomes equal to the work of both. - -Of the pelvic organs, it would not be becoming to speak in detail, -but one operation I can scarcely omit: namely, ovariotomy. One of my -old teachers was Washington L. Atlee, who, with his brother, was among -the first ovariotomists in this country who placed the operation on -a firm foundation. I heard a very distinguished physician in 1862, -in a lecture to his medical class, denounce such men as “murderers”; -but to-day how differently does the entire profession look upon the -operation! Instead of condemning the surgeon because he did remove such -a tumor, the profession would condemn him because he did not remove it. -The operation had its rise in America. Ephraim McDowell, of Kentucky, -in 1809, first did the operation which now reflects so much credit upon -modern surgery. The mortality of the Atlees was about one in three. -Now, owing to the immense improvement introduced by the antiseptic -methods, the deaths, in competent hands, are not over five per cent., -or even three per cent. - -The limits of this article compel me to stop with the story very -imperfectly told, but yet, perhaps, it has been sufficient in detail -to show somewhat of the astonishing progress of surgery within the -century, but especially within the last quarter of the century. - -About two decades ago one of the foremost surgeons of London, Mr. -Erichsen, said, in a public address, that “surgery had reached its -limits.” How short was his vision is shown by the fact that surgery -at that time was just at the beginning of its most brilliant modern -chapter. - -We have reached, in many respects, apparently, the limits of our -success, but just as anæsthesia and antisepsis and the Röntgen rays -have opened new fields wholly unsuspected until they were proclaimed, -so I have no doubt that the twentieth century will see means and -methods devised which will put to shame the surgery of to-day as much -as the surgery of to-day puts to shame that of thirty years ago, -and still more of a century ago. The methods by which this will be -attained will be by the more thorough and systematic study of disease -and injury, so as to better our means of diagnosis, and so prepare -us for immediate surgical interference, instead of delaying it, as -we now do in many cases, for want of certain knowledge; by the use -of new chemical and pharmaceutical means to perfect our antisepsis -and possibly to introduce other methods of treatment; but, above -all, we shall obtain progress by the exact experimental methods of -the laboratory. We can never make progress except by trying new -methods. New methods must be tried either on man or on animals, and -as the former is not allowable, the only way remaining to us is to -test all new methods, drugs, and applications first upon animals. -He who restricts, and, still more, he who would abolish our present -experiments upon animals, is, in my opinion, the worst foe to the human -race, and to animals, as well, for they, as well as human beings, -obtain the benefit derived from the method. He may prate of his -humanity, but he is the most cruel man alive. - - W. W. KEEN. - - - - -ELECTRICITY - - -The great importance which electricity has attained in many departments -of human activity is so constantly evident that we have difficulty -in realizing how short is the time which has been occupied in its -development. The latter half of the nineteenth century must ever remain -memorable, not only for the great advances in nearly all the useful -arts, but for the peculiarly rapid electric progress, and the profound -effect which it has had upon the lives and business of the people. -In the preceding century we find no evidences of the application -of electricity to any useful purpose. Few of the more important -principles of the science were then known. Franklin’s invention of -the lightning-rod was not intended to utilize electric force, but -to guard life and property from the perils of the thunder-storm. -The numerous instructive experiments in frictional electricity, the -first-known form of electric manifestation except lightning, made clear -certain principles, such as conduction and insulation, and served to -distinguish the two opposite electric conditions known as positive -and negative. Franklin’s kite experiment confirmed the long-suspected -identity of lightning and electric sparks. It was not, however, until -the discovery by Alexander Volta, in 1799, of his pile, or battery, -that electricity could take its place as an agent of practical value. -Volta, when he made this great discovery, was following the work of -Galvani, begun in 1786. But Galvani in his experiments mistook the -effect for the cause, and so missed making the unique demonstration -that two different metals immersed in a solution could set up an -electric current. Volta, a professor in the University of Pavia and -a foreign member of the Royal Society of England, communicated his -discovery to the president of the society in March, 1800, and brought -to the notice of the world the first means for obtaining a steady flow -of electricity. Before this event electric energy had been known to the -experimenter in pretty effects of attraction and repulsion of light -objects, in fitful flashes of insignificant power, or, as it appeared -in nature, in the fearful bursts of energy during a thunder-storm, -uncontrolled and erratic. The analogous and closely related phenomena -of magnetism had already found an important application in the -navigator’s compass. - -The simplest facts of electro-magnetism, upon which much of the later -electrical developments depend, remained entirely unknown until near -the close of the first quarter of the nineteenth century. Magnetism -itself, as exemplified in loadstone or in magnetized iron or steel, had -long before been consistently studied by Dr. Gilbert, of Colchester, -England, and in 1600 his great work, _De Magnete_, was published. It -is a first example, and an excellent one, too, of the application -of the inductive method, so fruitful in after-years. The restraints -which a superstitious age had imposed upon nature study were gradually -removed, and at the beginning of the century just past occasional -decided encouragement began to be given to physical research. It was -this condition which put into the hands of Humphry Davy, of the Royal -Institution, in London, at the opening of the century, a voltaic -battery of some 250 pairs of plates. With this a remarkably fruitful -era of electric discovery began. In 1802 Davy first showed the electric -arc or “arch” on a small scale between pieces of carbon. He also -laid the foundation for future electro-chemical work by decomposing -by the battery current potash and soda, and thus isolating the alkali -metals, potassium and sodium, for the first time. This was in 1807, -and the result was not only to greatly advance the youthful science of -chemistry, but to attract the attention of the world to a new power -in the hands of the scientific worker, electric current. A fund was -soon subscribed by “a few zealous cultivators and patrons of science,” -interested in the discovery of Davy, and he had at his service in 1801 -no less than 2000 cells of voltaic battery. With the intense currents -obtained from it he again demonstrated the wonderful and brilliant -phenomenon of the electric arc, by first closing the circuit of the -battery through terminals of hardwood charcoal and then separating -them for a short distance. A magnificent arch of flame was maintained -between the separated ends, and the light from the charcoal pieces -was of dazzling splendor. Thus was born into the world the electric -arc light, of which there are now many hundreds of thousands burning -nightly in our own country alone. - -Davy probably never imagined that his brilliant experiment would soon -play so important a part in the future lighting of the world. He may -never have regarded it as of any practical value. In fact, many years -elapsed before any further attempt was made to utilize the light of -the electric arc. The reason for this is not difficult to discover. -The batteries in existence were crude and gave only their full power -for a very short time after the circuit was closed. They were subject -to the very serious defect of rapid polarization, whereby the activity -was at once reduced. A long period elapsed before this defect was -removed. Davy in his experiments had also noted the very intense heat -of the electric arc, and found that but few substances escaped fusion -or volatilization when placed in the heated stream between the carbon -electrodes. Here again he was pioneer in very important and quite -recent electric work, employing the electric furnace, which has already -given rise to several new and valuable industries. - -The conduction of electricity along wires naturally led to efforts to -employ it in signalling. As early as 1774 attempts were made by Le -Sage, of Geneva, to apply frictional electricity to telegraphy. His -work was followed before the close of the century by other similar -proposals. Volta’s discovery soon gave a renewed impetus to these -efforts. It was easy enough to stop and start a current in a line of -wire connecting two points, but something more than that was requisite. -A good receiver, or means for recognizing the presence or absence of -current in the wire or circuit, did not exist. The art had to wait for -the discovery of the effects of electric current upon magnets and the -production of magnetism by such currents. Curiously, even in 1802 the -fact that a wire conveying a current would deflect a compass needle was -observed by Romagnosi, of Trente, but it was afterwards forgotten, and -not until 1819 was any real advance made. - -It was then that Oersted, of Copenhagen, showed that a magnet tends to -set itself at right angles to the wire conveying current and that the -direction of turning depends on the direction of the current. The study -of the magnetic effects of electric currents by Arago, Ampère, and the -production of the electro-magnet by Sturgeon, together with the very -valuable work of Henry and others, made possible the completion of the -electric telegraph. This was done by Morse and Vail in America, and -almost simultaneously by workers abroad, but, before Morse had entered -the field, Professor Joseph Henry had exemplified by experiments -the working of electric signalling by electro-magnets over a short -line. It was Henry, in fact, who first made a practically useful -electro-magnet of soft iron. The history of the electric telegraph -teaches us that to no single individual is the invention due. The Morse -system had been demonstrated in 1837, but not until 1844 was the first -telegraph line built. It connected Baltimore and Washington, and the -funds for defraying its cost were only obtained from Congress after a -severe struggle. This can easily be understood, for electricity had not -up to that time ever been shown to have any practical usefulness. The -success of the Morse telegraph was soon followed by the establishment -of telegraph lines as a means of communication between all the large -cities and populous districts. Scarcely ten years elapsed before the -possibility of a transatlantic telegraph was mooted. The cable laid -in 1858 was a failure. A few words passed, and then the cable broke -down completely. This was found to be due to defects in construction. -A renewed effort to lay a cable was made in 1866, but disappointment -again followed: the cable broke in mid-ocean and the work again ceased. -The great task was successfully accomplished in the following year, and -the pluck and pertinacity of those who were staking their capital, if -not their reputations for business sagacity, were amply rewarded. Even -the lost cable of 1866 was found, spliced to a new cable, and completed -soon after as a second working line. The delicate instruments for the -working of these long cables were due to the genius of Sir William -Thomson, now Lord Kelvin, whose other instruments for electrical -measurement have for years been a great factor in securing precision -both in scientific and practical testing. The number of cables joining -the Eastern and Western hemispheres has been increased from time to -time, and the opening of a new cable is now an ordinary occurrence, -calling for little or no especial note. - -The introduction of the electric telegraph was followed by the -invention of various signalling systems, the most important being -the fire-alarm telegraph, as suggested by Channing and worked out -by Farmer. We now, also, have automatic clock systems, in which a -master clock controls or gives movement to the hands of distant clock -dials by electric currents sent out over the connecting or circuit -wires. Automatic electric signals are made when fire breaks out in a -building, and alarms are similarly rung when a burglar breaks in. Not -only do we have telegraphs which print words and characters, as in the -stock “ticker,” but in the form known as the telautograph, invented -by Dr. Elisha Gray, the sender writes his message, which writing is -at the same time being reproduced at the receiving end of the line. -Even pictures for drawings are “wired” by special instruments. The -desirability of making one wire connecting two points do a large amount -of work, and thus avoiding the addition of new lines, has led to two -remarkable developments of telegraphy. In the duplex, quadruplex, and -multiplex systems several messages may at the same time be traversing -a single wire line without interference one with the other. In the -rapid automatic systems the working capacity of the line is increased -by special automatic transmitting machines and rapid recorders, and the -electric impulses in the line itself follow each other with great speed. - -Improvement in this field has by no means ceased, and new systems for -rapid transmission are yet being worked out. The object is to enlarge -the carrying capacity of existing lines connecting large centres of -population. The names of Wheatstone, Stearns, Edison, and Delaney are -prominent in connection with this work. For use in telegraphy the -originally crude forms of voltaic battery, such as Davy used, were -replaced by the more perfect types such as the constant battery of -Daniell, the nitric-acid battery of Grove, dating from 1836, and the -carbon battery of Bunsen, first brought out in 1842. Such was the power -of the Grove and Bunsen batteries that attention was again called -to the electric arc and to the possibility of its use for electric -illumination. Accordingly, we find that suggestions were soon made for -electric-arc lamps, to be operated by these more powerful and constant -sources of electric current. The first example of a working type of -an arc lamp was that brought to notice by W. E. Staite, in 1847, and -his description of the lamp and the conditions under which it could be -worked is a remarkably exact and full statement, considering the time -of its appearance. Staite even anticipated the most recent phase of -development in arc lighting, namely, the enclosure of the light in a -partially air-tight globe, to prevent too rapid waste of the carbons -by combustion in the air. In a public address at Newcastle-on-Tyne, -in 1847, he advocated the use of the arc, so enclosed, in mines, -as obviating the danger of fire. But it was a long time before the -electric arc acquired any importance as a practical illuminant. There -was, indeed, no hope of its success so long as the current had to be -obtained from batteries consuming chemicals and zinc. The expense was -too great, and the batteries soon became exhausted. In spite of this -fact, occasional exhibitions of arc lighting were made, notably in -1856, by Lacassagne and Thiers, in the streets of Paris. - -For this service they had invented an arc lamp involving what is known -as the differential principle, afterwards applied so extensively to -arc lamps. The length of the arc or the distance between the carbons -of the lamp was controlled with great nicety, and the light thus -rendered very steady. Even as late as 1875 batteries were occasionally -used to work single electric arc lamps for public exhibitions, or for -demonstration purposes in the scientific departments of schools. -The discovery of the means of efficiently generating electricity -from mechanical power constitutes, however, the key-note of all the -wonderful electrical work of the closing years of the nineteenth -century. It made electrical energy available at low cost. Michael -Faraday, a most worthy successor of Davy at the Royal Institution, in -studying the relations between electric currents and magnets, made the -exceedingly important observation that a wire, if moved in the field of -a magnet, would yield a current of electricity. Simple as the discovery -was, its effect has been stupendous. Following his science for its own -sake, he unwittingly opened up possibilities of the greatest practical -moment. The fundamental principle of the future dynamo electric machine -was discovered by him. This was in 1831. Faraday’s investigations -were so complete and his deductions so masterly, that little was -left to be done by others. Electro-magnetism was supplemented by -magneto-electricity. Both the electric motor and the dynamo generator -were now potentially present with us. Faraday contented himself with -pointing the way, leaving the technical engineer to follow. In one of -Faraday’s experiments a copper disk mounted on an axis passing through -its centre was revolved between the poles of a large steel magnet. A -wire touched the periphery of the disk at a selected position with -respect to the magnet, and another was in connection with the axis. -These wires were united through a galvanometer or instrument for -detecting electric current. A current was noted as present in the -circuit so long as the disk was turned. Here, then, was the embryo -dynamo. The century closed with single dynamo machines of over 5000 -horse-power capacity, and with single power stations in which the total -electric generation by such machines is 75,000 to 100,000 horse-power. -So perfect is the modern dynamo that out of 1000 horse-power expended -in driving it, 950 or more may be delivered to the electric line as -electric energy. The electric motor, now so common, is a machine like -the dynamo, in which the principle of action is simply reversed; -electric energy delivered from the lines becomes again mechanical -motion or power. - -Soon after Faraday’s discoveries in magneto-electricity attempts -were made to construct generators of electricity from power. But the -machines were small, crude, and imperfect, and the results necessarily -meagre. - -Pixii, in Paris, one year after Faraday’s discovery was announced, made -a machine which embodied in its construction a simple commutator for -giving the currents a single direction of flow. This is the prototype -of the commutators now found on what are called continuous-current -dynamos. After Pixii followed Saxton, Clarke, Wheatstone and Cooke, -Estohrer, and others, but not until 1854 was any very notable -improvement made or suggested. In that year Soren Hjorth, of -Copenhagen, described in a patent specification the principle of -causing the electric currents generated to traverse coils of wire so -disposed as to reinforce the magnetic field of the machine itself. -A year subsequently the same idea was again more clearly set out by -Hjorth. This is the principle of the modern self-exciting dynamo, -the field magnets of which, very weak at the start, are built up or -strengthened by the currents from the armature or revolving part of the -machine in which power is consumed to produce electricity. - -In 1856 Dr. Werner Siemens, of Berlin, well known as a great pioneer in -the electric arts, brought out the Siemens armature, an innovation more -valuable than any other made up to that time. This was subsequently -used in the powerful machines of Wilde and Ladd. It still survives in -magneto call-bell apparatus for such work as telephone signalling, -in exploders for mines and blasting, and in the simpler types of -electroplating dynamos. - -The decade between 1860 and 1870 opened a new era in the construction -and working of dynamo machines and motors. It is notable for two -advances of very great value and importance. Dr. Paccinotti, of -Florence, in 1860, described a machine by which true continuous -currents resembling battery currents could be obtained. Up to that -time machines gave either rapidly alternating or fluctuating currents, -not steady currents in one direction. The Paccinotti construction, in -modified forms, is now almost universally employed in dynamo machines, -and even where the form is now quite different the Paccinotti type has -been at least the forerunner, and has undergone modifications to suit -special ends in view. Briefly, Paccinotti made his armature of a ring -of iron with iron projections between which the coils of insulated -wire were wound. Although full descriptions of Paccinotti’s ring -armature and commutator were given out in 1864, his work attracted but -little attention until Gramme, in Paris, about 1870, brought out the -relatively perfect Gramme machine. In the mean time the other great -development of the decade took place. - -Although Hjorth had, as stated before, put forward the idea that a -dynamo generator might itself furnish currents for magnetizing its own -magnets, this valuable suggestion was not apparently worked out until -1866, when a machine was constructed for Sir Charles Wheatstone. This -appears to have been the first self-exciting machine in existence. -Wheatstone read a paper before the Royal Society in February, 1867, “On -the Augmentation of the Power of a Magnet by the Reaction thereon of -Currents Induced by the Magnet Itself.” This action later became known -as the reaction principle in dynamo machines. - -As often happens, the idea occurred to other workers in science almost -simultaneously, and Dr. Werner Siemens also read a paper in Berlin -about a month earlier than that of Wheatstone, clearly describing -the reaction principle. Furthermore, a patent specification had -been filed in the British Patent Office by S. A. Varley, December -24, 1866, clearly showing the same principle of action, and he was, -therefore, the first to put the matter on record. The time was ripe -for the appearance of machines closely resembling the types now in -such extended use. Gramme, in 1870, adopting a modified form of the -Paccinotti ring and commutator, and employing the reaction principle, -first succeeded in producing a highly efficient, compact, and durable -continuous-current dynamo. The Gramme machine was immediately -recognized as a great technical triumph. It was in a sense the -culmination of many years of development, beginning with the early -attempts immediately following Faraday’s discovery, already referred -to. Gramme constructed his revolving armature of a soft iron wire ring, -upon which ring a series of small coils of insulated wire were wound -in successive radial planes. These coils were all connected with a -continuous wire and from the junctions of the coils one with another -connections were taken to a range of copper bars insulated from each -other, constituting the commutator. In 1872 Von Hefner Alteneck, in -Berlin, modified the ring winding of Gramme and produced the “drum -winding,” which avoided the necessity for threading wire through the -centre of the iron ring as in the Gramme construction. The several -coils of the drum were still connected, as in Gramme’s machine, to the -successive strips of the commutator. - -In modern dynamos and motors the armature, usually constructed of -sheet-iron punchings, is a ring with projections as in Paccinotti’s -machine, and the coils of wire are in most cases wound separately and -then placed in the spaces between the projections, constituting in fact -a form of drum winding. In the early 70’s a few Gramme ring and Siemens -drum machines had been applied to the running of arc lights, one -machine for each light. There were also some Gramme machines in use for -electroplating. - -At the Centennial Exhibition, held at Philadelphia in 1876, but two -exhibits of electric-lighting apparatus were to be found. Of these -one was the Gramme and the other the Wallace-Farmer exhibit. The -Wallace-Farmer dynamo machine is a type now obsolete. It was not a good -design, but the Wallace exhibit contained other examples reflecting -great credit on this American pioneer in dynamo work. Some of these -machines were very similar in construction to later forms which went -into very extensive use. The large search-lights occasionally used in -night illumination during the exhibitions were operated by the current -from Wallace-Farmer machines. The Gramme exhibit was a remarkable -exhibit for its time. Though not extensive, it was most instructive. -There were found in it a dynamo running an arc lamp; a large machine -for electrolytic work, such as electroplating or electrotyping, and, -most novel and interesting of all, one Gramme machine driven by power -was connected to another by a pair of wires and the second run as a -motor. This in turn drove a centrifugal-pump, and raised water which -flowed in a small fall or cataract. A year or two previously the Gramme -machine had been accidentally found to be as excellent an electric -motor as it was a generating dynamo. The crude motors of Jacobi, -Froment, Davenport, Page, Vergnes, Gaume, and many others, were thus -rendered obsolete at a stroke. The first public demonstration of the -working of one Gramme machine by another was made by Fontaine at the -Vienna Exhibition of 1873. - -Here, then, was a foreshadowing of the great electric-power -transmission plants of to-day; the suggestion of the electric station -furnishing power as well as light, and, to a less degree, the promise -of future railways using electric power. Replace the centrifugal pump -of this modest exhibit by a turbine wheel, reverse the flow of water so -as to cause it to drive the electric motor so that the machine becomes -a dynamo, and, in like manner, make of the dynamo a motor, and we -exemplify in a simple way recent great enterprises using water-power -for the generation of current to be transmitted over lines to distant -electric motors or lights. - -The Centennial Exhibition also marks the beginning—the very birth, -it may be said—of an electric invention destined to become, before -the close of the century, a most potent factor in human affairs. The -speaking telephone of Alexander Graham Bell was there exhibited for the -first time to the savants, among whom was the distinguished electrician -and scientist Sir William Thomson. For the first time in the history of -the world a structure of copper wire and iron spoke to a listening ear. -Nay, more, it both listened to the voice of the speaker and repeated -the voice at a far-distant point. The instruments were, moreover, the -acme of simplicity. Within a year many a boy had constructed a pair of -telephones at an expenditure for material of only a few pennies. In -its first form the transmitting telephone was the counterpart of the -receiver, and they were reversible in function. The transmitter was in -reality a minute dynamo driven by the aërial voice waves; the receiver, -a vibratory motor worked by the vibratory currents from the transmitter -and reproducing the aërial motions. This arrangement, most beautiful -in theory, was only suited for use on short lines, and was soon -afterwards replaced by various forms of carbon microphone transmitter, -to the production of which many inventors had turned their attention, -notably Edison, Hughes, Blake, and Hunnings. In modern transmitters -the voice wave does not furnish the power to generate the telephone -current, but only controls the flow of an already existing current from -a battery. In this way the effects obtainable may be made sufficiently -powerful for transmission to listeners 1500 miles away. - -There is no need to dwell here upon the enormous saving of time secured -by the telephone and the profound effect its introduction has had upon -business and social life. The situation is too palpable. Nevertheless, -few users of this wonderful invention realize how much thought and -skill have been employed in working out the details of exchange -switchboards, of signalling devices, of underground cables and overhead -wires, and of the speaking instruments themselves. Few of those who -talk between Boston and Chicago know that in doing so they have for -the exclusive use of their voices a total of over 1,000,000 pounds of -copper wire in the single line. There probably now exist in the United -States alone between 75,000 and 100,000 miles of hard-drawn copper wire -for long-distance telephone service, and over 150,000 miles of wire in -underground conduits. There are upward of three-quarters of a million -telephones in the United States, and, including both overhead and -underground lines, a total of more than half a million miles of wire. -Approximately one thousand million conversations are annually conveyed. - -The possibility of sub-oceanic telephoning is frequently discussed, but -the problem thus far is not solved. It involves grave difficulties, and -we may hope that its solution is to be one of the advances which will -mark the twentieth century’s progress. - -The advent of the telephone in 1876 seemed to stimulate invention in -the electric field to a remarkable degree. Its immediate commercial -success probably acted also to inspire confidence in other proposed -electric enterprises. Greater attention than ever before began to -be given to the problem of electric lighting. An electric arc lamp, -probably the only one in regular use, had been installed at Dungeness -Light-house in 1862, after a long set of trials and tests. It was fed -by a Holmes magneto-electric machine of the old type, very large and -cumbrous for the work. Numerous changes and improvements had before -1878 been made in arc lamps by Serrin, Duboscq, and many others. -But the display of electric light during the Paris Exposition of -1878 was the first memorable use of the electric light on a large -scale. The splendid illumination of the Avenue de l’Opéra was a grand -object-lesson. The source of light was the “electric candle” of Paul -Jablochkoff, a Russian engineer. It was a strikingly original and -simple arc lamp. Instead of placing the two carbons point to point, -as had been done in nearly all previous lamps, he placed them side by -side, with a strip of baked kaolin between them. The candle so formed -was supported in a suitable holder, whereby, at the lower end, the -two parallel carbons were connected with the circuit terminals. By a -suitable device the arc was started at the top and burned down. The -electric candle seemed to solve the problem of allowing complicated -mechanism for feeding the carbons to be discarded; but it survived -only a short time. Owing to unforeseen difficulties it was gradually -abandoned, after having served a great purpose in directing the -attention of the world to the possibilities of the electric arc in -lighting. - -Inventors in America were not idle. By the close of 1878, Brush, of -Cleveland, had brought out his series system of arc lights, including -special dynamos, lamps, etc., and by the middle of 1879 had in -operation machines each capable of maintaining sixteen arc lamps -on one wire. This was, indeed, a great achievement for that time. -Weston, of Newark, had also in operation circuits of arc lamps, and the -Thomson-Houston system had just started in commercial work with eight -arc lamps in series from a single dynamo. Maxim and Fuller, in New -York, were working arc lamps from their machines, and capital was being -rapidly invested in new enterprises for electric lighting. Some of the -great electric manufacturing concerns of to-day had their beginning -at that time. Central lighting stations began to be established in -cities, and the use of arc lights in street illumination and in stores -grew rapidly. More perfect forms of arc lamps were invented, better -generating dynamos and regulating apparatus brought out. Factories -for arc-light carbon making were built. The first special electrical -exhibition was held in Paris in 1881. In the early 80’s, also, the -business of arc lighting had become firmly established, and soon the -bulk of the work was done under two of the leading systems. These were -afterwards brought together under one control, thus securing in the -apparatus manufactured a combination of the good features of both. -Until about 1892 nearly all the arc lamps in use were worked under the -series system, in which the lights are connected one after another on a -circuit and traversed by the same current. This current has a standard -value, or is a constant current. Sometimes as many as a hundred lamps -were on one wire. As the mains for the supply of incandescent lamps -at constant pressure, or potential, were extended, attention was more -strongly turned to the possibility of working arc lights therefrom. - -Within a few years of the close of the century this placing of arc -lamps in branches from the same mains which supply incandescent lamps -became common, and the enclosure of the arc in a partially air-tight -globe, a procedure advocated by Staite, in 1847, was revived by -Howard, Marks, and others for saving carbons and attention to the lamp. -The enclosed arc lamp was also found to be especially adapted to use in -branches of the incandescent lamp circuits, which had in cities become -greatly extended. The increasing employment of alternating currents -in the distribution of electric energy has led also to the use of -alternating current arc lamps, and special current-regulating apparatus -is now being applied on a large scale to extended circuits of these -lamps. It can be seen from these facts that the art is still rapidly -progressing and the field ever widening. A little over twenty years -ago practically no arc lamps were used. At the close of the century, -they were numbered by hundreds of thousands. The annual consumption of -carbons in this country has reached two hundred millions. - -Almost simultaneously with the beginning of the commercial work of arc -lighting, Edison, in a successful effort to provide a small electric -lamp for general distribution in place of gas, brought to public notice -his carbon filament incandescent lamp. - -A considerable amount of progress had previously been made by various -workers in attempting to reduce the volume of light in each lamp and -increase the number of lights for a given power expended. Forms of -incandescent arc lamps, or semi-incandescent lamps, were tried on a -considerable scale abroad, but none have survived. So, also, many -attempts to produce a lamp giving light by pure incandescence of solid -conductors proved for the most part abortive. Edison himself worked -for nearly two years on a lamp based upon the old idea of incandescent -platinum strips or wires, but without success. The announcement of -this lamp caused a heavy drop in gas shares, long before the problem -was really solved by a masterly stroke in his carbon filament lamp. -Curiously, the nearest approach to the carbon filament lamp had been -made in 1845, by Starr, an American, who described in a British patent -specification a lamp in which electric current passed through a thin -strip of carbon kept it heated while surrounded by a glass bulb in -which a vacuum was maintained. Starr had exhibited his lamps to -Faraday, in England, and was preparing to construct dynamos to furnish -electric current for them in place of batteries, but sudden death put -an end to his labors. The specification describing his lamp is perhaps -the earliest description of an incandescent lamp of any promise, and -the subsequently recorded ideas of inventors up to the work of Edison -seem now to be almost in the nature of retrograde movements. None of -them were successful commercially. Starr, who was only twenty-five -years of age, is reported to have died of overwork and worry in his -efforts to perfect his invention. His ideas were evidently far in -advance of his time. - -The Edison lamp differed from those which preceded it in the extremely -small section of the carbon strip rendered hot by the current, and in -the perfection of the vacuum in which it was mounted. The filament -was first made of carbonized paper, and afterwards of bamboo carbon. -The modern incandescent lamp has for years past been provided with a -filament made by a chemical process. The carbon formed is exceedingly -homogeneous and of uniform electric resistance. Edison first exhibited -his lamp in his laboratory at Menlo Park, New Jersey, in December, -1879; but before it could be properly utilized an enormous amount of -work had to be done. His task was not merely the improvement of an art -already existing; it was the creation of a new art. Special dynamo -machines had to be invented and constructed for working the lamps; -switches were needed for connecting and disconnecting lamps and groups -of lamps; meters for measuring the consumption of electric energy were -wanted; safety fuses and cut-offs had to be provided; electroliers or -fixtures to support the lamp were required; and, lastly, a complete -system of underground mains with appurtenances was a requisite for city -plants. - -Even the steam-engines for driving the dynamos had to be remodelled -and improved for electric work, and ten years of electric lighting -development did more towards the refinement and perfection of -steam-engines than fifty years preceding. Steadiness of lights meant -the preservation of steady speed in the driving machinery. The Pearl -Street station in New York City was the first installation for the -supply of current for incandescent lighting in a city district. The -constant pressure dynamos were gradually improved and enlarged. The -details of all parts of the system were made more perfect, and in the -hands of Edison and others the incandescent lamps, originally of high -cost, were much cheapened and the quality of the production was greatly -improved. Lamps originally cost one dollar each. The best lamps that -are made can be had at present for about one-fifth that price. Millions -of incandescent lamps are annually manufactured. Great lighting -stations furnish the current for the working of these lamps, some -stations containing machinery aggregating many thousands of horse-power -capacity. Not only do these stations furnish electric energy for the -working of arc lamps and incandescent lamps, but, in addition, for -innumerable motors ranging in size from the small desk fan of one-tenth -horse-power up to those of hundreds of horse-power. The larger sizes -replace steam or hydraulic power for elevators, and many are used in -shops and factories for driving machinery such as printing-presses, -machinery tools, and the like. - -In spite of the fact that it was well known that a good dynamo when -reversed could be made a source of power, few electric motors were -in use until a considerable time after the establishment of the first -lighting stations. Even in 1884, at the Philadelphia Electrical -Exhibition, only a few electric motors were shown. Not until 1886 or -thereafter did the “motor load” of an electric station begin to be a -factor in its business success. The motors supplied are an advantageous -adjunct, inasmuch as they provide a day load, increasing the output -of the station at a time when the lighting load is small and when the -machinery in consequence would, without them, have remained idle. The -growth of the application of electric motors in the closing years of -the century has been phenomenal, even leaving out of consideration -their use in electric railways. - -Twenty years ago an electric motor was a curiosity; fifty years ago -crude examples run by batteries were only to be occasionally found in -cabinets of scientific apparatus. Machinery Hall, at the Centennial -Exhibition of 1876, typified the mill of the past, never again to be -reproduced, with its huge engine and lines of heavy shafting and belts -conveying power to the different tools or machines in operation. The -modern mill or factory has its engines and dynamos located wherever -convenient, its electric lines and numerous motors connected thereto, -and each of them either driving comparatively short lines of shafting -or attached to drive single pieces of machinery. The wilderness of -belts and pulleys which used to characterize a factory is gradually -being cleared away, and electric distribution of power substituted. -Moreover, the lighting of the modern mill or factory is done from the -same electric plant which distributes power. - -The electric motor has already partly revolutionized the distribution -of power for stationary machinery, but as applied to railways in place -of animal power the revolution is complete. The period which has -elapsed since the first introduction of electric railways is barely a -dozen years. It is true that a few tentative experiments in electric -traction were made some time in advance of 1888, notably by Siemens, -in Berlin, in 1879 and 1880, by Stephen D. Field, by T. A. Edison, at -Menlo Park, by J. C. Henry, by Charles A. Van Depoele, and others. If -we look farther back we find efforts such as that of Farmer, in 1847, -to propel railway cars by electric motors driven by currents from -batteries carried on the cars. These efforts were, of course, doomed to -failure, for economical reasons. Electric energy from primary batteries -was too costly, and if it had been cheaper, the types of electric motor -used yielded so small a return of power for the electric energy spent -in driving them that commercial success was out of the question. These -early efforts were, however, instructive, and may now be regarded -as highly suggestive of later work. Traction by the use of storage -batteries carried on an electric car has been tried repeatedly, but -appears not to be able to compete with systems of direct supply from -electric lines. The plan survives, however, in the electric automobile, -many of which have been put into service within a year or two. The -electric automobile is not well fitted for country touring; it is -best adapted to cities, where facilities for charging and caring for -the batteries can be had. Moreover, the electric carriage is of all -automobile carriages the most easily controlled, most ready; it emits -no smell or hot gases and is nearly noiseless. - -About 1850, Hall, a well-known instrument maker of Boston, catalogued -a small toy electric locomotive dragging a car upon rails which were -insulated and connected with a stationary battery of two Grove cells. -This arrangement was sold as a piece of scientific apparatus, and -appears to be the first example of an electrically driven vehicle -connected by rolling contacts to an immovable energy source. Other -early experimenters, such as Siemens, Field, and Daft, subsequently -to Hall, used in actual railway work the supply by insulated tracks. -This was supplanted later by overhead insulated wires or by the -insulated third rail. Siemens & Halske, of Berlin, used a special -form of overhead supply in 1881, and during the electrical exhibition -in Paris in that year, a street tramway line was run by them. Later, -Edison experimented with a third-rail-supply line at Menlo Park; and -at Portrush, in Ireland, an actual railway was put in operation by -Siemens & Halske, using the third-rail system. This was about 1883. The -power of the Portrush railway was that of a water-wheel driving the -generating dynamo. - -The modern overhead trolley, or under-running trolley, as it is called, -seems to have been first invented by Van Depoele, and used by him -in practical electric railway work about 1886 and thereafter. The -universality of this invention for overhead supply marks the device -as a really important advance in the art of electric traction. Van -Depoele was also a pioneer in the use of an underground conduit, which -he employed successfully in Toronto in 1884. The names of Edward M. -Bentley and Walter H. Knight stand out prominently in connection with -the first use of an underground conduit, tried under their plans in -August, 1884, at Cleveland, on the tracks of the horse-railway company. - -We have barely outlined the history of the electric-motor railway up to -the beginning of a period of wonderful development, resulting in the -almost complete replacement by electric traction of horse traction or -tramway lines, all within an interval of scarcely more than ten years. - -The year 1888 may be said to mark the beginning of this work, and in -that year the Sprague Company, with Frank J. Sprague at its head, -put into operation the electric line at Richmond, Virginia, using -the under-running trolley. Mr. Sprague had been associated with -Edison in early traction work, and was well known in connection with -electric-motor work in general. The Richmond line was the first large -undertaking. It had about thirteen miles of track, numerous curves, -and grades of from three to ten per cent. The enterprise was one of -great hardihood, and but for ample financial backing and determination -to spare no effort or expenditure conducive to success, must certainly -have failed. The motors were too small for the work, and there had not -been found any proper substitute for the metal commutator brushes on -the motors—a source of endless trouble and of an enormous expense for -repairs. Nevertheless, the Richmond installation, kept in operation as -it was in spite of all difficulties, served as an object-lesson, and -had the effect of convincing Mr. Henry M. Whitney and the directors -of the West End Street Railway, of Boston, of the feasibility of -equipping the entire railway system of Boston electrically. Meanwhile -the merging of the Van Depoele and Bentley-Knight interests into the -Thomson-Houston Electric Light Company brought a new factor into the -field, the Sprague interests being likewise merged with the Edison -General Electric Company. - -The West End Company, with two hundred miles of track in and around -Boston, began to equip its lines in 1888 with the Thomson-Houston -plant. The success of this great undertaking left no doubt of the -future of electric traction. The difficulties which had seriously -threatened future success were gradually removed. - -The electric railway progress was so great in the United States that -about January 1, 1891, there were more than two hundred and forty lines -in operation. About thirty thousand horses and mules were replaced by -electric power in the single year of 1891. In 1892 the Thomson-Houston -interests and those of the Edison General Electric Company were merged -in the General Electric Company, an event of unusual importance, as -it brought together the two great competitors in electric traction at -that date. Other electric manufacturers, chief among which was the -Westinghouse Company, also entered the field and became prominent -factors in railway extension. In a few years horse traction in the -United States on tramway lines virtually disappeared. Many cable lines -were converted to electric lines, and projects such as the Boston -Subway began to be planned. Not the least of the advantages of electric -traction is the higher speed attainable with safety. The comfort and -cleanliness of the cars, lighted brilliantly at night, and heated in -winter by the same source of energy which is used to propel them, are -important factors. - -All these things, together with the great extension of the lines into -suburban and country districts, and the interconnection of the lines -of one district with those of another, cannot fail to have a decidedly -beneficial effect upon the life, habits, and health of the people. -While the United States and Canada have been and still are the theatre -of the enormous advance in electric traction, as in other electric -work, many electric car lines have in recent years been established in -Great Britain and on the continent of Europe. Countries like Japan, -Australia, South Africa, and South America have also in operation many -electric trolley lines, and the work is rapidly extending. Most of -this work, even in Europe, has been carried out either by importation -of equipment from America, or by apparatus manufactured there, but -following American practice closely. The bulk of the work has been done -with the overhead wire and under-running trolley, but there are notable -instances of the use of electric conductors in underground slotted -conduits, chief of which are the great systems of street railway in New -York City. - -In Chicago the application of motor-cars in trains upon the elevated -railway followed directly upon the practical demonstration at the -World’s Fair of the capabilities of third-rail electric traction on the -Intramural Elevated Railway, and the system is rapidly extending so as -to include all elevated city roads. A few years will doubtless see the -great change accomplished. - -The motor-car, or car propelled by its own motors, has also been -introduced upon standard steam roads to a limited extent as a -supplement to steam traction. The earliest of these installations are -the one at Nantasket, Massachusetts, and that between Hartford and -New Britain, in Connecticut. A number of special high-speed lines, -using similar plans, have gone into operation in recent years. The -problem of constructing electric motors of sufficient robustness for -heavy work and controlling them effectively was not an easy one, and -the difficulties were increased greatly because of the placing of -the motors under the car body, exposed to wet, to dust and dirt of -road. The advantage of the motor-car, or motor-car train, is that the -traction or hold upon the track increases with the increase of the -weight or load carried. It is thus able to be accelerated rapidly -after a stop, and also climb steep grades without slipping its wheels. -Nevertheless, there are circumstances which favor the employment of a -locomotive at the head of a train, as in steam practice. This is the -case in lines where a train of coal or ore cars is drawn by electric -mining locomotives. Many such plants are in operation, and, at the same -time the electric power is used to drive fans for ventilating, pumps -for drainage, electric hoists, etc., besides being used for lighting -the mines. The trains in the tunnels of the Metropolitan Underground -Railway of London have for many years been operated by steam -locomotives with the inevitable escape of steam, foul, suffocating -gases, and more or less soot. - -A number of years ago the tunnel of the City and South London Railway -was put into successful operation with electric locomotives drawing the -trains of cars, and the nuisance caused by steam avoided. This work -recalls the early efforts of Field, of Daft, and Bentley and Knight -in providing an electric locomotive for replacing the steam plant of -the elevated roads in New York City. Well-conceived as many of these -plans were, electric traction had not reached a sufficient development, -and the efforts were abandoned after several more or less successful -trials. It is now seen that the motor-car train may advantageously -replace the locomotive-drawn train in such instances as these elevated -railways. - -The three largest and most powerful electric locomotives ever put -into service are those which are employed to take trains through the -Baltimore and Ohio Railroad tunnel at Baltimore. They have been in -service about seven or eight years, and are fully equal in power to -the large steam locomotives used on steam roads. Frequently trains of -cars, including the steam locomotive itself, are drawn through the -tunnel by these huge electric engines, the fires on the steam machines -being for the time checked so as to prevent fouling the air of the -tunnel. There was opened, in London, in 1900, a new railway called the -Central Underground, equipped with twenty-six electric locomotives for -drawing its trains. The electric and power equipment, which embodied in -itself the latest results of American practice, was also manufactured -in America to suit the needs of the road. Other similar railways are -in contemplation in London and in other cities of Europe. As on the -elevated roads in New York City, the replacement of underground steam -traction, where it exists, by electric traction is evidently only a -question of a few years. - -An electric railway may exemplify a power-transmission system in which -power is delivered to moving vehicles. But the distances so covered are -not generally more than a few miles from the generating station. Where, -however, abundant water-power exists, as at Niagara, or where fuel is -very expensive and power is to be had only at great distances from -the place at which it is to be used, electricity furnishes the most -effective means for transmission and distribution. Between the years -1880 and 1890 the device called alternating current transformer was -developed to a considerable degree of perfection. It is, in reality, a -modified induction coil, consisting of copper wire and iron, whereby a -current sent through one of its coils will induce similar currents in -the other coils of apparatus. It has the great advantage of having no -moving parts. Faraday, in 1831, discovered the fundamental principle -of the modern transformer. Not only, however, will the current in -one coil of the apparatus generate by induction a new current in an -entirely separate coil or circuit, but by suitably proportioning the -windings we may exchange, as it were, a large low-pressure current for -a small but high-pressure current, or _vice versa_. This exchange may -be made with a very small percentage of loss of energy. These valuable -properties of the transformer have rendered it of supreme importance -in recent electrical extension. The first use made of it, in 1885–86, -was to transform a high-pressure current into one of low pressure in -electric lighting, enabling a small wire to be used to convey electric -energy at high pressure, and without much loss, to a long distance -from the station. This energy at high pressure reaches the transformer -placed within or close to the building to be lighted. A low-pressure -safe current is conveyed from the transformer to the wires connected to -the lamps. In this way a current of two thousand volts, an unsafe and -unsuitable pressure for incandescent lighting, is exchanged for one -of about one hundred volts, which is quite safe. In this way, also, -the supply station is enabled to reach a customer too far away to be -supplied directly with current at one hundred volts, without enormous -expense for copper conductors. - -The alternating current transformer not only greatly extended the -radius of supply from a single station, but also enabled the station -to be conveniently located where water and coal could be had without -difficulty. It also permitted the distant water-powers to become -sources of electric energy for lighting, power, or for other service. -For example, a water-power located at a distance of fifty to one -hundred miles or more from a city, or from a large manufacturing centre -where cost of fuel is high, may be utilized as follows: A power-station -will be located upon the site of the water-power, and the dynamos -therein will generate electricity at, say, two thousand volts pressure. -By means of step-up transformers this will be exchanged for a current -of thirty thousand volts for transmission over a line of copper or -aluminum wire to the distant consumption area. Here there will be a set -of step-down transformers which will exchange the thirty-thousand-volt -line current for one of so low a pressure as to be safe for local -distribution to lamps, to motors, etc., either stationary or upon a -railway. The same transmission plant may simultaneously supply energy -for lighting, for power, for heat, and for charging storage batteries. -It may, therefore, be employed both day and night. - -These long-distance power transmission plants are generally spoken of -as “two-phase,” “three-phase,” or “polyphase” systems. Before 1890 -no such plants existed. A large number of such installations are now -working over distances of a few miles up to one hundred miles. They -differ from what are known as single-phase alternating systems in -employing, instead of a single alternating current, two, three, or -more, which are sent over separate lines, and in which the electric -impulses are not simultaneous, but follow each other in regular -succession, overlapping each other’s dead points, so to speak. Early -suggestions of such a plan, about 1880, and thereafter, by Bailey, -Deprez, and others, bore no fruit, and not until Tesla’s announcement -of his polyphase system, in 1888, was much attention given to the -subject. A widespread interest in Tesla’s work was invoked, but several -years elapsed before engineering difficulties were overcome. This work -was done mainly by the technical staffs of the large manufacturing -companies, and it was necessary to be done before any notable power -transmissions on the polyphase system could be established. After 1892 -the growth became very rapid. - -The falls of Niagara early attracted the attention of engineers to -the possibility of utilizing at least a fraction of the power. It -was seen that several hundred thousand horse-power might be drawn -from it without materially affecting the fall, itself equivalent to -several millions of horse-power. A gigantic power-station has lately -been established at Niagara, taking water from a distance above the -falls and delivering it below the falls through a long tunnel which -forms the tail race. Ten water-wheels, located in an immense wheel-pit -about two hundred feet deep, each wheel of a capacity of five thousand -horse-power, drive large vertical shafts, at the upper end of which -are located the large two-phase dynamos, each of five thousand -horse-power. The electric energy from these machines is in part raised -in pressure by huge transformers for transmission to distant points, -such as the city of Buffalo, and a large portion is delivered to the -numerous manufacturing plants located at moderate distances from the -power-station. Besides the supply of energy for lighting, and for -motors, including railways, other recent uses of electricity to which -we have not yet alluded are splendidly exemplified at Niagara. Davy’s -brilliant discovery of the alkali metals, sodium and potassium, at -the opening of the century, showed the great chemical energy of the -electric current. Its actions were afterwards carefully studied, -notably by the illustrious Faraday, whose discoveries in connection -with magnetism and magneto-electricity have been briefly described. -The electric current was found to act as a most potent chemical force, -decomposing and recomposing many chemical compounds, dissolving and -depositing metals. Hence, early in the century arose the art of -electroplating of metals, such as electro-gilding, silver-plating, -nickel-plating, and copper deposition as in electrotyping. These arts -are now practised on a very large scale, and naturally have affected -the whole course of manufacturing methods during the century. Moreover, -since the introduction of dynamo current, electrolysis has come to -be employed in huge plants, not only for separating metals from each -other, as in refining them, but in addition for separating them from -their ores, for the manufacture of chemical compounds before unknown, -and for the cheap production of numerous substances of use in the -various arts on a large scale. Vast quantities of copper are refined, -and silver and gold often obtained from residues in sufficient amount -to pay well for the process. - -At Niagara also are works for the production of the metal aluminum from -its ores. Similar works exist at other places here and abroad where -power is cheap. This metal, which competes in price with brass, bulk -for bulk, was only obtainable before its electric reduction at $25 to -$30 per pound. The metal sodium is also extracted from soda. A large -plant at Niagara also uses the electric current for the manufacture of -chlorine for bleach, and caustic soda, both from common salt. Chlorate -of potassium is also made at Niagara by electrolysis. The field of -electro-chemistry is, indeed, full of great future possibilities. Large -furnaces heated by electricity, a single one of which will consume more -than a thousand horse-power, exist at Niagara. In these furnaces is -manufactured from coke and sand, by the Acheson process, an abrasive -material called carborundum, which is almost as hard as diamond, but -quite low in cost. It is made into slabs and into wheels for grinding -hard substances. The electric furnace furnishes also the means for -producing artificial plumbago, or graphite, almost perfectly pure, the -raw material being coke powder. - -A large amount of power from Niagara is also consumed for the -production in special electric arc furnaces of carbide of calcium -from coke and lime. This is the source of acetylene gas, the new -illuminant, which is generated when water is brought into contact -with the carbide. The high temperature of the electric furnace thus -renders possible chemical actions which under ordinary furnace heat -would not take place. Henri Moissan, a French scientist, well known -for his brilliant researches in electric furnace work, has even shown -that real diamonds can be made under special conditions in the electric -furnace. He has, in fact, probably practised in a small way what has -occurred on a grand scale in nature, resulting in diamond fields such -as those at Kimberley. One problem less is thus left to be solved. The -electro-chemical and kindred arts are practised not alone at Niagara, -but at many other places where power is cheap. Extensive plants have -grown up, mostly within the five years before the close of the century. -All of the great developments in this field have come about within the -last decade. - -The use of electricity for heating is not confined to electric -furnaces, in which the exceedingly high temperature obtainable is the -factor giving rise to success. While it is not likely that electricity -will soon be used for general heating, special instances, such as the -warming of electric cars in winter by electric heaters, the operation -of cooking appliances by electric current, the heating of sad-irons and -the like, give evidence of the possibilities should there ever be found -means for the generation of electric energy from fuel with such high -efficiency as eighty per cent. or more. Present methods give, under -most favorable conditions, barely ten per cent., ninety per cent. of -the energy value of the fuel being unavoidably wasted. - -Another application of the heating power of electric currents is -found in the Thomson electric welding process, the development of -which has practically taken place in the past ten years. In this -process an exceedingly large current, at very low electric pressure, -traverses a joint between two pieces of metal to be united. It heats -the joint to fusion or softening; the pieces are pushed together and -welded. Here the heat is generated in the solid metal, for at no time -during the operation are the pieces separated. The current is usually -obtained from a welding transformer, an example of an extreme type -of step-down transformer. Current at several hundred volts passed -into the primary winding is exchanged for an enormous current at only -two or three volts in the welding circuit in which the work is done. -The present uses of this electric welding process are numerous and -varied. Pieces of most of the metals and alloys, before regarded as -unweldable, are capable of being joined not only to pieces of the same -metal, but also to different metals. Electric welding is applied on -the large scale, making joints in wires or rods, for welding wagon and -carriage wheel tires, for making barrel-hoops and bands for pails, -for axles of vehicles, and for carriage framing. It has given rise to -special manufactures, such as electrically welded steel pipe or tube, -wire fencing, etc. It is used for welding together the joints of -steel car-rails, for welding teeth in saws, for making many parts of -bicycles, and in tool making. An instance of its peculiar adaptability -to unusual conditions is the welding of the iron bands embedded within -the body of a rubber vehicle tire for holding the tire in place. For -this purpose the electric weld has been found almost essential. - -Another branch of electric development concerns the storage of -electricity. The storage battery is based upon principles discovered by -Gaston Planté, and applied, since 1881, by Brush, by Faure, and others. -Some of the larger lighting stations employ as reservoirs of electric -energy large batteries charged by surplus dynamo current. This is -afterwards drawn upon when the consumer’s load is heavy, as during the -evening. The storage battery is, however, a heavy, cumbrous apparatus, -of limited life, easily destroyed unless guarded with skill. If a -form not possessing these faults be ever found, the field of possible -application is almost limitless. - -The above by no means complete account of the progress in electric -applications during the century just closed should properly be -supplemented by an account of the accompanying great advances regarded -from the purely scientific aspect. It is, however, only possible to -make a brief reference thereto within the limits of this article. The -scientific study of electricity and the application of mathematical -methods in its treatment has kept busy a host of workers and drawn -upon the resources of the ablest minds the age has produced. Gauss, -Weber, Ampère, Faraday, Maxwell, Helmholtz, are no longer with us. -Of the early founders of the science we have yet such men as Lord -Kelvin, formerly Sir William Thomson, Mascart, and others, still -zealous in scientific work. Following them are a large number, notable -for valuable contributions to the progress of electrical science, -in discoveries, in research, and in mathematical treatment of the -various problems presented. Modern magnetism took form in the hands -of Rowland, Hopkinson, Ewing, and many other able workers. Maxwell’s -electro-magnetic theory of light is confirmed by the brilliant -researches of the late Dr. Hertz, too early lost to science. Hertz -proved that all luminous phenomena are in essence electrical. -The wireless telegraphy of to-day is a direct outcome of Hertz’s -experiments on electric waves. It is but little more than ten years -since Hertz announced his results to the world. His work, supplemented -by that of Branly, Lodge, Marconi, and others, made wireless telegraphy -a possibility. - -The wonderful X-ray, and the rich scientific harvest which has followed -the discovery by Röntgen of invisible radiation from a vacuum tube, was -preceded by much investigation of the effects of electric discharges in -vacuum tubes, and Hittorf, followed by Crookes, had given special study -to these effects in very high or nearly perfect vacua. Crookes, though -especially enriching science by his work, missed the peculiar X-ray, -which, nevertheless, must have been emitted from many of his vacuum -tubes, not only in his hands, but in those of subsequent students. It -was as late as 1896 that Röntgen announced his discovery. Since that -time several other sources of invisible radiation have been discovered, -more or less similar in effect to the radiations from a vacuum tube, -but emitted, singular as the fact is, from rare substances extracted -from certain minerals. Leaving out of consideration the great value -of the X-ray to physicians and surgeons, its effect in stimulating -scientific inquiry has almost been incalculable. The renewed study of -effects of electric discharge in vacuum tubes has already, in the work -of such investigators as Lenard, J. J. Thomson, and others, apparently -carried the subdivision of matter far beyond the time-honored chemical -atom, and has gone far towards showing the essential unity of all the -chemical elements. It is as unlikely that the mystery of the material -universe will ever be completely solved as it is that we can gain an -adequate conception of infinite space or time. But we can at least -extend the range of our mental vision of the processes of nature as we -do our real vision into space depths by the telescope and spectroscope. -There can now be no question that electric conditions and actions are -more fundamental than many hitherto so regarded. - -The nineteenth century closed with many important problems in -electrical science unsolved. What great or far-reaching discoveries are -yet in store, who can tell? What valuable practical developments are -to come, who can predict? The electrical progress has been great—very -great—but after all only a part of that grander advance in so many -other fields. The hands of man are strengthened by the control of -mighty forces. His electric lines traverse the mountain passes as well -as the plains. His electric railway scales the Jungfrau. But he still -spends his best effort, and has always done so, in the construction and -equipment of his engines of destruction, and now exhausts the mines -of the world of valuable metals, for ships of war, whose ultimate -goal is the bottom of the sea. In this also electricity is made to -play an increasingly important part. It trains the guns, loads them, -fires them. It works the signals and the search-lights. It ventilates -the ship, blows the fires, and lights the dark spaces. Perhaps all -this is necessary now, and, if so, well. But if a fraction of the -vast expenditure entailed were turned to the encouragement of advance -in the arts and employments of peace in the twentieth century, can -it be doubted that, at the close, the nineteenth century might come -to be regarded, in spite of its achievements, as a rather wasteful, -semi-barbarous transition period? - - ELIHU THOMSON. - - - - -PHYSICS - - -On January 7, 1610, Galileo, turning his telescope towards Jupiter, -was the first to see the beautiful system of that planet in which the -universe is epitomized. He had already studied the variegated surface -of the moon, and he had seen the spots upon the sun. A little later, -in spite of the feeble power of his instrument, he had discovered -that the sun rotates upon an axis, and something of the wonderful -nature of the planet Saturn had been revealed to him. The overwhelming -evidence thus afforded of the truth of the hypothesis of Copernicus -made him its chief exponent. The time had come for man to know, as -he had never known or even dreamed before, his true relation to the -universe of which he was so insignificant a part. In a single year -nearly all of these capital discoveries were made. It was truly an -era of intellectual expansion; never before and never since has man’s -intellectual horizon enlarged with such enormous rapidity. One needs -little imagination to share with this ardent philosopher the enthusiasm -of the moment when, because some, fearing the evidence of their senses, -refused to look through the slender tube, he wrote to Kepler: “Oh, my -dear Kepler, how I wish we could have one hearty laugh together!... -Why are you not here? What shouts of laughter we should have at this -glorious folly!” - -Galileo died in 1642, and in the same year Newton was born. When -twenty-four years old he “began to think of gravity extending to the -orb of the moon,” and before the end of the century he had discovered -and established the great law of universal gravitation. Thus, at the -end of the seventeenth century, the foundations of modern physics were -in place. During the eighteenth century they were much built upon, but -it was the nineteenth that witnessed not only the greatest advance in -detail, but the most important generalizations made since the time of -Galileo and Newton. - -In endeavoring to present to the intelligent but perhaps unscientific -reader a brief review of the accomplishments of that “wonderful -century” in the domain of physics, one must not attempt more than an -outline of greater events, and it will be convenient to arrange them -under the several principal subdivisions of the science, according to -the usually accepted classification. - - -HEAT - -Although more than one philosopher of the seventeenth and eighteenth -centuries suggested the identity of heat and molecular motion, the -impression made was not lasting, and up to very near the beginning -of the nineteenth century the _caloric_ theory was accepted almost -without dispute. This theory implied that heat was a subtle fluid, -definite quantities of which were added to or subtracted from material -substances when they became hot or cold. As carefully conducted -experiments seemed to show that a body weighed no more or no less when -hot than when cold, it was necessary to attribute to this fluid called -caloric the mysterious property of imponderability, that is, unlike all -forms of ordinary matter, it possessed no weight. To avoid calling it -matter, it was by many classed with light, electricity, and magnetism, -as one of the _imponderable agents_. Various other properties were -attributed to caloric, necessary to the reasonable explanation of a -steadily increasing array of experimental facts. It was declared to be -elastic, its particles being mutually self-repellent. It was thought -to attract ordinary matter, and an ingenious theory of caloric was -constructed, modelled upon Newton’s famous but erroneous corpuscular -theory of light. During the latter part of the eighteenth century -Joseph Black, professor in the Universities of Glasgow and Edinburgh, -developed his theory of _latent heat_, which, although founded upon a -false notion of the nature of heat, was a most important contribution -to science. The downfall of the caloric theory must be largely credited -to the work of a famous American who published the results of his -experiments just at the close of the eighteenth century. Benjamin -Thompson, generally known as Count Rumford, was born in the town of -Woburn, Massachusetts, in 1753. His inclination towards physical -experimentation was strong in his early youth, and he received much -instruction and inspiration from the lectures of Professor John -Winthrop, of Harvard College, some of which he was enabled to attend -under trying conditions. Having received special official consideration -by appointment to office under one of the colonial governors, he was -accused at the breaking out of the Revolutionary War of a leaning -towards Toryism, and was thus prevented from making his career among -his own people. At the age of twenty-two years he fled to England, -returning to America only for a brief period in command of a British -regiment. In England he soon became eminent as an experimental -philosopher, and in 1778 became a Fellow of the Royal Society. He -afterwards entered the service of the Elector of Bavaria, by whom -he was made a Count of the Holy Roman Empire. In 1799 he returned -to London and founded the “Royal Institution,” which was destined -during the next hundred years to surpass all other foundations in the -richness and importance of its contributions to physical science. It -was while at Munich that Rumford made his famous experiments on the -nature of heat, to which he had been led by observing the great amount -of heat generated in the boring of cannon. Finding that he was able -to make a considerable quantity of water actually boil by the heat -generated by a blunt boring tool, he concluded that the supply of heat -from such a source was practically inexhaustible and that it could be -generated continuously if only the motion of the tool under friction -was kept up. He declared that anything which could thus be produced -without limitation by an insulated body or system of bodies could not -possibly be a material substance, and that under the circumstances of -the experiment, the only thing that was or could be thus continuously -communicated was _motion_. - -Count Rumford’s conclusions were not for a long time accepted. Davy, -the brilliant professor and eloquent lecturer at the newly established -Royal Institution, espoused the mechanical theory of heat and made -the striking experiment of melting two pieces of ice by rubbing them -together remote from any source of heat. His contemporary, Thomas -Young, who overturned Newton’s corpuscular theory of light and showed -that it was a wave phenomenon, also advocated Rumford’s notion of the -nature of heat, but even among physicists of high rank it had made -little headway as late as the middle of the nineteenth century. In -the eighth edition of the Encyclopædia Britannica, published in 1856, -the immediate predecessor of the current issue, heat is defined as “a -material agent of a peculiar nature, highly attenuated.” And this, in -spite of the fact that previous to that date the mechanical theory had -been completely proved by the labors of Mayer, Joule, Helmholtz, and -William Thomson (Lord Kelvin). By these men a solid foundation for the -theory had been found in a great physical law of such importance that -it is justly considered to be the most far-reaching generalization in -natural philosophy since the time of Newton. Some account of this law -and its discovery will be given later in this paper. - -Among the most important of the century’s contributions to our -knowledge of heat must be included the work of Fourier, as embodied -in his _Theorie Analytique de la Chaleur_, published in 1822. Joseph -Fourier was born in 1768, and died in 1830. He belonged to that -splendid group of philosophers of which the French nation may always -be proud, whose work constitutes a large part of the lustre of -intellectual France during her most brilliant period, the later years -of the eighteenth and the earlier years of the nineteenth century. His -contemporaries included such men as Laplace, Arago, Lagrange, Fresnel, -and Carnot. Fourier wrote especially of the movement of heat in solids, -and as his thesis depended in no way on the nature of heat it will -always be regarded as a classic. His assumption that conductivity was -independent of temperature was shortly proved to be erroneous, but -his general argument and conclusions were not greatly affected by -this discovery. His work is one of the most beautiful examples yet -produced of the application of mathematics to physical research, and -mathematical and physical science were equally enriched by it. In -its broader aspects his law of conduction includes the transfer of -electricity in good conductors, and is the real basis of Ohm’s law. - -One of the most skillful and successful experimenters in heat was also -a Frenchman, Henri Victor Regnault (1810–78). He greatly improved the -construction and use of the thermometer, and was the first to discover -that the indications of an air thermometer and one of mercury did not -exactly agree, because they did not expand in the same degree for -equal increases of temperature. His most important work was on the -expansion of gases, vapor pressure, specific heat of water, etc., and -for careful, patient measuring he had a positive genius. Until he -proved the contrary it had been assumed that all gases had the same -coefficient of expansion, and Boyle’s law that the volume of a gas was -inversely proportional to its pressure had not been questioned. His -tables of the elastic force of steam have been of immense practical -value, but his studies of the expansion of gases are of greater -interest because they have pointed the way to one of the most important -accomplishments of the century, the liquefaction of all known gases. - -During the earlier years of this century it was the custom to consider -vapors and gases as quite distinct forms of matter. Vapors always -came, by evaporation, from liquids, and could always be “condensed” or -reduced to the liquid form without difficulty, but it was not thought -possible to liquefy the so-called “permanent” gases. The first man to -attack the problem systematically was Michael Faraday, who, before -the end of the first third of the century, had liquefied several -gases, mostly by producing them by chemical reactions under pressure. -Several of the more easily reducible gases or vapors, such as ammonia, -sulphurous acid, and probably chlorine, had been previously liquefied -by cold, but a quarter of a century elapsed after Faraday’s researches -before the true relation of the liquid and gaseous states of matter -was understood, and it was found that both increase of pressure and -lowering of temperature were, in general, essential to the liquefaction -of a gas. It was Thomas Andrews, of Belfast, who first showed, in a -paper published in 1863, that there was a continuity in the liquid -and gaseous states of matter, that for each substance there was a -critical temperature at which it became a homogeneous fluid, neither a -liquid nor a gas: that above this temperature great pressure would not -liquefy, while below it the substance might exist as partly liquid and -partly gas. He pointed out the fact that for the so-called permanent -gases this critical temperature must be exceedingly low, and if such -temperature could be reached liquefaction would follow. - -Subsequent progress in the liquefaction of gases came about by -following this suggestion. Very low temperatures were produced by -subjecting the gas to great reduction in volume by pressure, removing -the heat of compression by conduction and radiation, and then by sudden -expansion its temperature was greatly lowered. As early as 1877 two -Frenchmen, Pictet and Cailletet, had succeeded in liquefying oxygen, -hydrogen, nitrogen, and air. During the past twenty years great -improvements have been made in the methods of accomplishing these -transformations, so that to-day it is easy to produce considerable -quantities of all of the principal gases in a liquid form, and by -carrying the reduction in temperature still further portions of the -liquid may be changed to the solid state. The most important work along -this line has been done by Wroblewski and Olszewski, of the University -of Cracow, and Professor Dewar, of the Royal Institution in London. -Temperatures as low as about two hundred and fifty degrees C. below -the freezing-point of water have been produced, the “absolute zero” -being only two hundred and seventy-three degrees C. below that point. -These experiments promise to throw much light on the nature of matter, -and they are especially interesting as revealing its extraordinary -properties at extremely low temperatures. Among the most curious and -suggestive is the fact that the electrical resistance of pure metals -diminishes at a rate which indicates that at the absolute zero it would -vanish, and these metals would become perfect conductors of electricity. - -The dynamics of heat, or “thermo-dynamics,” was an important field of -research in the early part of the century, on account of its practical -application to the improvement of the steam-engine. The science was -created by Carnot, who, in spite of the fact that his views regarding -the nature of heat were erroneous, discovered some of the most -interesting relations among the quantities involved, and discussed -their applications to the heat engines with great skill. Subsequent -contributors to the theory and practice of thermo-dynamics were -Clausius, Rankine, Lord Kelvin, and Professor Tait. - -The mechanical theory of heat naturally led up to what has already been -referred to as the most important generalization in physical science -since the time of Newton, the doctrine of - - -THE CONSERVATION OF ENERGY - -This principle puts physics in its relation to energy where chemistry -has long been in its relation to matter. If matter were not -conservative, if it could be created or destroyed at will, chemistry -would be an impossible science. Physics is put upon a solid foundation -by the assumption of a like conservatism in energy; it can neither be -created nor destroyed, although it may appear in many different forms -which are, in general, mutually interconvertible. - -Many men have contributed to the establishment of this great principle, -but it was actually discovered and proved by the labors of three or -four. Although it was practically all done before the middle of the -nineteenth century, its general popular recognition did not come -until a quarter of a century later. The doctrine was first distinctly -formulated by Robert Mayer, a German physician, who published in 1842 a -suggestive paper on “The Forces of Inorganic Nature,” which, however, -attracted little or no attention. Mayer had not approached the problem -from an experimental stand-point, but at about the same time it was -attacked most successfully from this side by a young Englishman, -James Prescott Joule, son of a wealthy brewer of Manchester, England. -Joule made the first really accurate determination of the mechanical -equivalent of a given quantity of heat, a physical constant which -Rumford had tried to measure, reaching only a rough approximation. -Substantially Joule’s result was that the heat energy necessary to -raise the temperature of any given mass of water one degree Fahr. is -the equivalent of the mechanical energy required to lift that mass -through a height of seven hundred and seventy-two feet against the -force of the earth’s attraction; and, conversely, if a mass of water -be allowed to fall through a distance of seven hundred and seventy-two -feet under the action of gravity, and at the end of its motion be -instantly arrested, the heat generated will suffice to raise its -temperature one degree Fahr. Of such vast importance is this numerical -coefficient that it has been called the golden number of the nineteenth -century. Since Joule’s time it has been redetermined by several -physicists, notably by Professor Rowland, of Baltimore, the general -conclusion being that Joule’s number was somewhat, but not greatly, too -small. - -The first clear and full exposition of the doctrine of the conservation -of energy was given by Joule in a popular lecture in Manchester in -1847, but it attracted little attention until a few months later, when -the author presented his theory at a meeting of the British Association -for the Advancement of Science. Even among scientific men it would -have passed without comment or consideration had it not been for the -presence of another young Englishman, then as little known as Joule -himself, who began a series of remarks, appreciative and critical, -which resulted in making Joule’s paper the sensation of the meeting. -This was William Thomson, who had been, only a year before, at the age -of twenty-two years, appointed professor of natural philosophy at the -University of Glasgow, now known as Lord Kelvin, the most versatile, -brilliant, and profound student of physical science which the century -has produced. From that day to the death of Joule (1889) these two men -were closely associated in the demonstration and exploitation of a -great principle of which they were at first almost the sole exponents -among English-speaking people. - -By an interesting coincidence, in the same year in which Joule -announced the result of his experiments, the Physical Society of -Berlin listened to a paper almost identical with Joule’s in character -and conclusions, but prepared quite independently, by a young German -physician, Herman von Helmholtz, destined to rank at the time of his -death, in 1893, as one of the very first mathematicians of the age, -doubtless the first physiologist of his time, and as a physicist with -whom not more than one other of the nineteenth century may be compared. -Helmholtz’s paper was rejected by the editor of the leading scientific -journal of Germany, but his work was so important that he must -always share with Joule and Kelvin in the glory of this epoch-making -generalization. - -Even a brief sketch of the history of the doctrine of the conservation -of energy would be incomplete if mention were not made of the work -of Tyndall. Although by original research he contributed in no small -degree to the demonstration of the theory, it is mainly through his -wonderful skill in popular presentation of the principles of physical -science that he becomes related to the great movement of the middle of -the century. His masterful exposition of the new theory in a course -of lectures at the Royal Institution, given in 1862 and published in -1863 under the title _Heat as a Mode of Motion_, was the means of -making the intelligent public acquainted with its beauty and profound -significance, and the history of science affords no more admirable -example of the possibilities and wisdom of popular scientific -writing than this book. As for the principle of the conservation of -energy itself it is not too much to say that during the last half -of the century it has been the guiding and controlling spirit of -all scientific discovery or of invention through the application of -scientific principles. - - -LIGHT - -The revival and final establishment of the undulatory or wave theory of -light is one of the glories of the nineteenth century, and the credit -for it is due to Thomas Young, an Englishman, and Fresnel, a Frenchman. -Newton had conceived, espoused, and, owing to the great authority -of his name, almost fixed upon the learned world the corpuscular or -emission theory, which assumes that all luminous bodies emit streams of -minute corpuscles, which are reflected, refracted, and produce vision. -Many ordinary optical phenomena were explained by this hypothesis -only with great difficulty, and some were quite unexplainable. The -transmission of a disturbance or vibratory motion by means of waves, as -in the case of sound, was a well-recognized principle, and Young and -Fresnel applied it most successfully to the phenomena of light. Wave -motion, in a general way, is only possible in a sensibly continuous -medium, such as water, air, etc., and the theory that light was a -vibratory disturbance transmitted by means of waves necessitated the -assumption of the existence of such a medium throughout all space in -which light travelled. What is known as the ethereal medium, at first -a purely imaginary substance, but whose real existence is practically -established, satisfies this demand, and the hypothesis that light is -transmitted by waves in such a medium, originating in a vibratory -disturbance at the source, has been of inestimable value to physical -science. - -The work of Thomas Young was done in the very first years of the -nineteenth century. He was for two years professor of Natural -Philosophy in the Royal Institution just founded by Count Rumford, and -he was the first to fill that chair. In 1801, in a paper presented to -the Royal Society, he argued in favor of the undulatory theory, showing -how the interference of waves would explain the color of thin plates. -His papers were not, for several years, received favorably, and they -were severely criticised by Lord Brougham. Augustus Fresnel followed -Young, but quite independently, about ten years later, and by him the -undulatory theory received elaborate experimental and mathematical -treatment. - -In the mean time another Frenchman had made a capital discovery in -optics, which seemed at first to be quite incompatible with the wave -theory. This was the discovery of what is known as _polarization of -light_ by Malus, a French engineer, who hit upon it while investigating -double refraction of crystals, for a study of which the French -Institute had offered a prize in 1808. Malus found that when light fell -upon a surface of glass at a certain angle a portion of the reflected -light appeared to have acquired entirely new properties in regard to -further reflection, and the same was true of that part of the beam -which was transmitted through the glass. The light thus affected was -incapable of further reflection under certain conditions, and as the -beam seemed to behave differently according to how it was presented -to the reflecting surface, the term polarization was applied to the -phenomenon. It was found that the two rays into which a single beam -of light was split by a doubly refracting crystal (a phenomenon which -had long been known) were affected in this way, and that light was -polarized by refraction as well as by reflection. Malus was a believer -in the corpuscular theory of light, but it was shortly proved, first -by Thomas Young, that the phenomenon of polarization was not only -not opposed to the wave theory, but that that theory furnished a -rational explanation of it. This explanation, in brief, assumes that -ordinary light is a wave produced by a vibratory motion confined to -no particular plane, the direction of vibration being at right angles -to the direction of the wave, and in any, or, in rapid succession, in -_all_ azimuths. When light is polarized the vibratory motion in the -ether is restricted to one particular form, a line if plane polarized, -a circle or an ellipse if circularly or elliptically polarized. This -simple hypothesis has been found quite adequate, and through its -application to the various phenomena of polarization, together with -the application of Young’s theory of the interference of waves to -the production of color, the undulatory theory of light was firmly -established before the middle of the century. There were many noted -philosophers, however, who stood out long against it, notably Brewster, -the most famous English student of optics of the early part of the -century, who declared that his “chief objection to the undulatory -theory was that he could not think the Creator guilty of so clumsy a -contrivance as the filling of space with ether in order to produce -light.” In studying the nature of light it became very important to -know how fast a light wave travelled. A tolerably good measure of the -velocity of light had been made long before by means of the eclipses of -Jupiter’s moons and by observations upon the positions of the stars as -influenced by the motion of the earth in its orbit. It was found to be -approximately one hundred and eighty thousand miles per second, a speed -so great that it seemed impossible that it should ever be measured by -using only terrestrial distances. - -This extremely difficult problem has been solved, however, in a most -satisfactory manner by nineteenth-century physicists. Everybody -knows that in a uniform motion velocity is equal to space or distance -divided by time. If, then, the time occupied in passing through a -given distance can be measured, the velocity is at once known. As the -velocity of light is very large, unless the distance is enormously -great, the time will be extremely small, and if moderate distances -are to be used the problem is to measure very small intervals of time -very accurately. Light will travel one mile in about the one hundred -and eighty-sixth thousandth part of a second, and if by using a mile -as the distance the velocity of light is to be determined within -one per cent., it is necessary to be able to detect differences of -time as small as about one twenty-millionth of a second. This has -been made possible by the use of two distinct methods. Foucault, on -the suggestion of Arago, used a rapidly revolving mirror, a method -introduced by Wheatstone, the English electrician, who used it in -finding the duration of an electric spark. The essential principle is -that a mirror may be made to revolve so rapidly that it will change its -position by a measurable angle, while light which has been reflected -from it passes to a somewhat distant fixed mirror and returns to the -moving reflector. In the other method a toothed wheel is revolved so -rapidly that a beam of light passing between two consecutive teeth to -a distant fixed mirror is cut off on its return to the wheel by the -tooth, which has moved forward while the light has made its journey. -This method was first used by Fizeau. In either method, if the speed -of rotation is known, the time is readily found. In point of time, -Fizeau was the first to attack the problem, which he did about 1849. -Foucault was perhaps a year later in getting results, but his method -is generally considered the best. Both methods have been used by other -experimenters, and very important improvements in Foucault’s method -were made in the United States by Michelson about 1878. Michelson’s -method increased enormously the precision of the measurements, and -it has been applied by him and by Newcomb, not only for the better -determination of the velocity of light in air, but for the solution -of many other related problems of first importance. Michelson’s final -determination of the absolute velocity of light (in the ether) is -everywhere accepted as authoritative. - -Another discovery in optics entirely accomplished during the nineteenth -century and of the very first importance is generally known as -“Spectrum Analysis.” This discovery has not yet ceased to excite -admiration and even amazement, and especially among those who best -understand it. By its use hitherto unknown substances have become -known; to the physicist it is an instrument of research of the greatest -power, and perhaps more than anything else it promises to throw light -on the ultimate nature of matter; to the astronomer it has revealed -the composition, physical condition, and even the motions of the most -distant heavenly bodies, all of which the philosophy of a hundred years -ago would have pronounced absolutely impossible. - -The beginning of spectrum analysis was in 1802, when an Englishman, Dr. -Wollaston, observed dark lines interrupting the solar spectrum when -produced by a good prism upon which the sunlight fell after passing -through a narrow slit. About ten years later, Fraunhofer, at Munich, a -skilful worker in glass and a keen observer, discovered in the spectrum -of light from a lamp two yellow bands, now known as the sodium, or -“D” lines. Combining the three essential elements of the modern -spectroscope, the slit, the prism, and the observing telescope, he saw -in the spectrum of sunlight “an almost countless number of dark lines.” -He was the first to use a grating for the production of the spectrum, -using at first fine wire gratings and afterwards ruling fine lines -upon glass, and with these he made the first accurate measures of the -length of light waves. He did not, however, comprehend the full import -of the problem which he thus brought to the attention of physicists. -About twenty years later Sir John Herschell studied the bright line -spectra of different substances and found that they might be used to -detect the presence of minute quantities of a substance whose spectrum -was known. Wheatstone studied the spectrum of the electric arc passing -between metals, and in 1874 Dr. J. W. Draper published a very important -paper on the spectra of solids with increasing temperature. Although -quite in the dark as to the real nature of the phenomena with which -they were dealing, these observers paved the way for the splendid work -of the two Germans, Kirchoff and Bunsen, who, about 1860, found the key -to this wonderful problem and made the science of spectrum analysis -substantially what it is to-day. Its fundamental principles may be -considered as few and comparatively simple. - -Waves of light and radiant heat originate in ether disturbances -produced by molecular vibration, and have impressed upon them all of -the important qualities of that vibration. Molecules of different -substances differ in their modes of vibration, each producing a wave -peculiar to and characteristic of itself. A useful analogy may be found -in the fact that when one listens to the music of an orchestra without -seeing it it is easy to recognize the tones that come from each of -the several instruments, the characteristic vibrations of each being -impressed upon the waves in air which carry the sound to the ear. So -delicate and so sure is this impression of vibration peculiarities that -it is even possible to know the maker of a violin, for instance, by a -characteristic _timbre_ which must have its physical expression in the -sound wave. The ear, more perfect than the eye, analyzes the resultant -disturbance into its component parts so that each element may be -attributed to its proper source. Unaided, the eye cannot do this with -light, but the spectroscope separates the various modes of vibration -which make up the confused whole, so that varieties of molecular -activity are recognizable. The speed at which a source of sound is -approaching or receding from the ear can be ascertained by noting the -rise or fall in pitch due to the crowding together or stretching out -of the sound waves, and in the same way the motion of a luminous body -is known from the increase or decrease of the refrangibility of the -elements of its spectrum. - -Indeed, had nineteenth-century science accomplished nothing else than -the discovery of spectrum analysis, it would have marked the beginning -of a new epoch. By this device man is put in communication with every -considerable body in the universe, including even the invisible. The -“goings on” of Sirius and Algol, of Orion and the Pleiads are reported -to him across enormous stretches of millions of millions of miles of -space, empty save of the ethereal medium itself, by this most wonderful -“wireless telegraphy.” And it is by the vibratory motion of the -invisibly small that all of this is revealed; the infinitely little has -enabled us to conquer the inconceivably big. - -Many important contributions to the theory and practice of spectrum -analysis have been made since the time of Kirchoff and Bunsen, only -two or three of which can be referred to here. Instrumental methods by -which spectra are produced and examined have been greatly perfected, -and this is especially true of what is known as the “diffraction -grating” first used by Fraunhofer. A quarter of a century ago -Rutherford, of New York, constructed a ruling engine by means of which -gratings on glass and spectrum metal were ruled with a precision -greatly exceeding what had before been possible. A few years later -Rowland, of Baltimore, made a notable advance in the construction of -a screw far more perfect than any before made, producing gratings of -a fineness and regularity of spacing far ahead of any others, and -especially by the capital discovery of the concave grating, by means -of which the most beautiful results have been obtained. Very recently -Michelson, of Chicago, has invented the echelon spectroscope, which, -although greatly restricted in range, exceeds all others in power of -analysis of spectral lines. In his hands this instrument has been most -effective in the study of the influence of a strong magnetic field -upon the character of the spectrum from light produced therein, a most -interesting phenomenon first observed by Zeeman and one which promises -to reveal much concerning the relation of molecular activity to light -and to magnetic force. - -The development of spectrum analysis was necessarily accompanied by a -recognition of the identity of radiant heat and light. The study of -radiant heat, which was carried on during the earlier years of the -century by Leslie, and later by Melloni and Tyndall, by what might be -called thermal methods, has been industriously pursued during the last -two decades by processes similar to those adopted for visual radiation. -The most notable contribution to this work is the invention of the -_bolometer_, by Langley, who, at Allegheny, and later at Washington, -has made exhaustive studies of solar radiation in invisible regions -of the spectrum, especially among the waves of greater length than -those of red light, where he has found absorption lines and bands -similar in character to those observed in the visible spectrum. He has -also studied the absorption of the earth’s atmosphere, the relation -of energy to visual effect, and many other interesting problems, the -solution of which was made possible by the use of the bolometer. - -Mention must also be made of the invention by Michelson of an -interference comparator, by means of which linear measurements by -optical methods can be accomplished with a degree of accuracy hitherto -unheard of. With this instrument Michelson has determined the length of -the international prototype metre in terms of the wave length of the -light of a particular spectral line, thus furnishing for the first time -a satisfactory _natural_ unit of length. - -By far the most important contribution to the theory of light made -during the last half of the century is that of Maxwell, who, in 1873, -announced the proposition that electro-magnetic phenomena and light -phenomena have their origin in the same medium, and that they are -identical in nature. This far-reaching conclusion has been generally -accepted and formed the basis of much of the most important work in -physical research in process of elaboration as the century closed. To -some of this reference will presently be made. - - -ELECTRICITY AND MAGNETISM - -In no other department of physical science have such remarkable -developments occurred during the past century as in electricity and -magnetism, for in no other department have the practical applications -of scientific discovery been so numerous and so far reaching in their -effect upon social conditions. In a brief review of the contributions -of the nineteenth century to the evolution of the telegraph, telephone, -trolley-car, electric lighting, and other means of utilizing -electricity, it will be possible to consider only a very few of the -fundamental discoveries upon which the enormous and rather complex -superstructure of to-day rests. Happily these are few in number, and -their presentation is all the more important because of the fact that -in the popular mind they are not accorded that significance to which -they are entitled, if, indeed, they are remembered at all. - -The first great step in advance of the electricity of Franklin and his -contemporaries (and his predecessors for two thousand years) was taken -very near the end of the eighteenth century, but it must be regarded -as the beginning of nineteenth-century electricity. Two Italian -philosophers, Galvani and Volta, contributed to the invention of what -is known as the galvanic or voltaic battery, the output of which was -not at first distinctly recognized as the electricity of the older -schools. By this beautiful discovery electricity was for the first time -enslaved to man, who was now able to generate and control it at times -and in such quantities as he desired. Although the voltaic battery is -now nearly obsolete as a source of electricity, its invention must -always be regarded as one of the three epoch-making events in the -history of the science during the past one hundred and twenty years. -For three-quarters of a century it was practically the only source of -electricity, and during this time and by its use nearly all of the -most important discoveries were made. Even in the first decade of the -century many brilliant results were reached. Among the most notable -were the researches of Sir Humphry Davy, who, by the use of the most -powerful battery then constructed, resolved the hitherto unyielding -alkalies, discovering sodium and potassium, and at the same time -exhibited in his lectures in the Royal Institution in London the first -electric arc light, the ancestor of the millions that now turn night -into day. - -The cost of generating electricity by means of a voltaic battery is -relatively very great, and this fact stood in the way of the early -development of its applications, although their feasibility was -perfectly well understood. Without any other important invention or -discovery than that of the voltaic battery much would have been -possible, including both electric lighting and the electric telegraph. -Indeed, electric telegraphy had long been a _possibility_, even before -the time of Galvani and Volta, but its actual construction and use was -almost necessarily postponed until a second capital discovery came to -remove most of the difficulties. - -This was the discovery of a relation between electricity and magnetism, -the existence of which had long been suspected and earnestly sought. -A Danish professor, Hans Christian Oersted, was fortunate in hitting -upon an experiment which demonstrated this relation and opened up an -entirely new field of investigation and invention. What Oersted found -was that when a conductor, as a copper wire, carrying an electric -current, was brought near a freely suspended magnet, like a compass -needle, the latter would take up a definite position with reference -to the current. Thus an electric current moved a magnet, acted like a -magnet in producing a “magnetic field.” The subject was quickly taken -up by almost every physicist in Europe and America. Arago found that -iron filings would cling to a wire through which a current was passing, -and he was able to magnetize steel needles by means of the current. -Ampère, another French physicist, studied Oersted’s wonderful discovery -both experimentally and mathematically, and in an incredibly short time -so developed it as to deserve the title of creator of the science of -electro-dynamics. - -The first to make what is known as an electro-magnet was an Englishman -named Sturgeon, who used a bar of soft iron bent in a horseshoe form -(as had long been common in making permanent steel magnets), and, -after varnishing the iron for insulation, a single coil of copper -wire was wrapped about it, through which the current from a battery -was passed. There were thus two ways of producing visible motion by -means of an electric current: that of Oersted’s simple experiment, -in which a suspended magnetic needle was deflected by a current, and -that made possible by the production, at will, of an electro-magnet. -The application of both of these ideas to the construction of an -electric telegraph was quickly attempted, and two different systems of -telegraphy grew out of them. One, depending on Oersted’s experiment, -was developed in England first and afterwards in Europe; the other, -that involving the use of signals produced by an electric magnet, was -developed in America, and was generally known as the American method. -It has long ago superseded the first method in actual practice. Its -possibility depended on perfecting the electro-magnet and especially -on an understanding of the principles on which that perfecting -depended. For the complete and satisfactory solution of this problem -we are indebted to the most famous student of electricity America has -produced during the century, Joseph Henry. In 1829, while a teacher in -the academy at Albany, New York, Henry exhibited an electro-magnet of -enormously greater power than any before made, involving all of the -essential features of the magnet of to-day. The wire was insulated -by silk wrapping, and many coils were placed upon the iron core, the -intensity of magnetization being thus multiplied. Henry studied, also, -the best form and arrangement of the battery under varying conditions -of the conductor. An electro-magnetic telegraph had been declared -impossible in 1825, by Barlow, an Englishman, who pointed out the -apparently fatal fact that the resistance offered to the current was -proportional to the length of the conducting wire and that the strength -of the current would be thus so much reduced for even short distances -as to become too feeble to be detected. Henry showed that what is known -as an “intensity battery” would overcome this difficulty, discovering -experimentally and independently the beautifully simple law showing -the relation of current to electro-motive force which Ohm had announced -in 1827. He also invented the principle of the relay, by which the -action of a very feeble current controls the operation of a more -powerful local system. It will thus be seen that the essential features -of the so-called American system of telegraphy are to be credited to -Henry, who had a working line in his laboratory as early as 1832. - -Morse made use of the scientific discoveries and inventions of Henry, -and by his indefatigable labors and persistent faith the commercial -value of the enterprise was really established. In the mean time -considerable progress was made in Europe. Baron Schilling, a Russian -Councillor of State, devised and exhibited a needle telegraph. The -two illustrious German physicists, Gauss and Weber, established a -successfully working line two or three miles long in 1833, and this -system was commercially developed by Steinheil in 1837. In England, Sir -Charles Wheatstone made many important contributions, although using -the needle system, which was afterwards abandoned. Before the middle of -the century the commercial success of the electro-magnetic telegraph -was assured, and in the matter of the transmission of messages distance -was practically annihilated. - -Oersted, Arago, Ampère, Sturgeon, and Henry had made it possible to -convert electricity into mechanical energy. Motors of various types -had been invented, and the possibility of using the new source of -power for running machinery, cars, boats, etc., was fully recognized. -Several attempts had been made to do these things, but the great -cost of producing the current by means of a battery stood in the way -of success. Another epoch-making discovery was necessary, namely, a -method of reversing the process and converting mechanical energy -into electricity. This was supplied by the genius of Michael Faraday, -who had succeeded Davy in the Royal Institution at London. In 1831 -Faraday discovered _induction_, the key to the modern development of -electricity. He showed that while Oersted had proved that a current of -electricity would generate a magnetic field and set a magnet in motion, -this process was reversible. A magnet set in motion in a magnetic -field by a steam-engine or any other source of power would produce, -in a conductor properly arranged, a current of electricity, and thus -the dynamo came into existence. In this brilliant investigation he was -almost anticipated by Henry, who was working at Albany along the same -lines, but under much less favorable conditions. Indeed, in several of -the most important points, the American actually did anticipate the -Englishman. Nearly half a century elapsed before this most important -discovery was sufficiently developed to become commercially valuable, -and it is impossible in this place to trace the steps by which, during -the last quarter of a century, the production and utilization of -electricity as existing to-day was accomplished, as a result of which -the century closed, as one might say, in a blaze of light; and it is -unnecessary, because most people have witnessed the spread of the fire -which Faraday and Henry kindled. - -Faraday’s discovery of induction furnished the basis of that marvellous -improvement upon the telegraph by which actual speech is transmitted -over hundreds and even thousands of miles. In connection with the -invention of the telephone the names of Philip Reiss, Graham Bell, -Elisha Gray, and Dolbear will always be mentioned, each of whom, -doubtless independently, hit upon a way of accomplishing the result -with more or less success. To Bell, however, belongs the honor of -having first practically solved the problem and of devising a system -which, with numerous modifications and improvements, has come into -extensive use in all parts of the world. No other application of -electricity has come into such universal use, and none has contributed -more to the comfort of life. - -While it is doubtless true that since Faraday’s time no discovery -comparable with his in real importance has been made, the past -twenty-five years have not lacked in results of scientific research, -some of which may, in the not distant future, eclipse even that in the -value of their practical applications. Among these must be ranked Clerk -Maxwell’s theory of electric waves and its beautiful verification in -1888 by the young German physicist, Hertz. This brilliant student of -electricity succeeded in actually producing, detecting, and controlling -these waves, and out of this discovery has come the “wireless -telegraphy” which has been so rapidly developed within the last few -years. Many other discoveries in electricity of great scientific -interest and practical promise have been recorded in the closing years -of the century, but the necessary limits of this article forbid their -consideration. - -No account of the progress of physical science during the nineteenth -century would be even approximately complete without mention of other -investigations of profound significance. For instance, the study of -the phenomena of sound has yielded results of great scientific and -some practical value. The application of the theory of interference -by Thomas Young; the publication of Helmholtz’s great work, the -_Tonempfindungen_, in which his theory of harmony was first fully -presented; the publication of Lord Rayleigh’s treatise; the invention -and construction by König of acoustic apparatus, the best example -yet furnished of scientific handicraft; all of these mark important -advances, not only in acoustics but in general physics as well. The -phonautograph of Scott and König, by which a graphic record of the -vibrations of the vocal chords was made possible, was ingeniously -converted by Edison into a speech recording and reproducing machine, -the phonograph, by which the most marvellous results are accomplished -in the simplest possible manner. - -The century is also to be credited with the discovery and development -of the art of photography, which, although not of the first importance, -has contributed much to the pleasure of life, and as an aid to -scientific investigation has become quite indispensable. - -The wonderfully beautiful experiments of Sir William Crookes, on the -passage of an electric discharge through a high vacuum, and other -phenomena connected with what has been called “radiant matter,” begun -about a quarter of a century ago and continued by him and others up to -the present time, laid the foundation for the brilliant work of Röntgen -in the discovery and study of the so-called “X”-rays, the real nature -of which is not yet understood. Their further investigation by J. J. -Thomson, Becquerel, and others, seems to have revealed new forms and -phases of radiation, a fuller knowledge of which is likely to throw -much light on obscure problems relating to the nature of matter. - -Concerning the “Nature of Matter,” the ablest physicists of the century -have thought and written much, and doubtless our present knowledge -of the subject is much more nearly the truth than that of a hundred -years ago. The molecular theory of gases has met with such complete -experimental verification, and is so in accord with all observed -phenomena, that it must be accepted as essentially correct. As to -the ultimate nature of what is called matter, as distinguished from -the ethereal medium, what is known as the “vortex theory of atoms” -has received the most consideration. This theory was developed by -Lord Kelvin out of Helmholtz’s mathematical demonstration of the -indestructibility of a vortex ring when once formed in a medium -possessing the properties which are generally attributed to the ether. - -Perhaps the most remarkable as well as the most promising fact relating -to physical science at the close of the nineteenth century is the -great and rapidly increasing number of well-organized and splendidly -equipped laboratories in which original research is systematically -planned and carried out. When one reflects that for the most part -during the century just ended the advance of science was more or less -of the nature of a guerrilla warfare against ignorance, it seems safe -to predict for that just beginning victories more glorious than any yet -won. - - T. C. MENDENHALL. - - - - -WAR - - -It is doubtful how far, even if as civilians we get over our natural -dislike of talking of military change as “progress,” there has been any -considerable advance in the larger aspects of military science within -the century. The genius of Bonaparte, working upon the foundations laid -by Frederick the Great, established a century ago principles which are -essentially applicable to the military matters of the present day; and -although the scientific developments of artillery and musketry have -affected the dispositions of battle-fields, the essential principles of -the art of preparation for war and of strategy stand where they stood -before. - -Scharnhorst was the Prussian officer who began to reduce the -Napoleonic military system to rules applicable to the use of German -armies. Under Bonaparte the whole management of the army was too -often concentrated in the hands of the man of genius, and the actual -method of Napoleon had the defect that, failing the man of genius -at the head of the army, it broke down. The main change made by the -Germans, who followed Scharnhorst, in the course of the century has -been to codify the Napoleonic system so that it was possible to more -generally decentralize in practice without impairing its essence. They -have also established a division of its supply department (under a -Minister of War) from the “brain of the army,” as Mr. Spenser Wilkinson -has well called it, which manages the preparation for the strategy -of war and the strategy itself. These so-called Prussian principles -of decentralization and “initiative” are, however, not new and not -Prussian, and may be discovered in the conversations of Napoleon -Bonaparte. The French in 1870 had forgotten his teaching, and the -Germans had retained it. It is, nevertheless, the case that the number -of men placed in the field by the military powers having increased, -the intelligent initiative of corps commanders and even of generals -commanding divisions has become the more essential. It is impossible -that the great general staff can give orders in advance which will -cover the responsibility of all the inferior generals, and brains -have to be added in all ranks to obedience. The commander-in-chief in -the field cannot with advantage drown himself in details, and he can -only provide in his orders an outline sketch which his subordinates -in various parts of the field of operations have to fill in. The -“initiative of subordinates” is but the natural division of labor. - -If I, a civilian student of military politics, rather than a military -expert, have been called upon to write upon the military progress of -the century, it must be because of a desire to bring largely into the -account the changes in military organization which on the continent -of Europe have made it permanently national, and which in the United -States made it temporarily national during the Civil War, and would -make it so again in the event of any fresh struggle on a great scale in -which the North American continent might become involved. - -Although the “armed nation” has replaced in France, Germany, -Switzerland, Austria-Hungary, Italy, Roumania, and Bulgaria the smaller -professional armies of the eighteenth century, the popular belief that -the numerical strength of field armies has enormously increased is not -so completely well founded as at first sight might be supposed. It is -true that each nation can put into the entire field of warfare larger -numbers than that nation could put into the field a century ago. -But it is still not beyond the bounds of possibility that in certain -cases small armies may produce results as remarkable as those which -attended British operations in the Peninsula in the early part of the -nineteenth century, and, on the other hand, although there will, upon -the whole, in future continental wars, be larger armies in the field, -no one general is likely personally to handle or to place upon a field -of battle a larger army than that with which Napoleon traversed Europe -before he invaded Russia. - -The principles of pure military science as set forth in books have -not been greatly changed during the nineteenth century. The Prussian -Clausewitz only explained for us the doctrines of Bonaparte; and the -latest writers—such as the Frenchmen Derrécagaix and Lewal—only -continue Clausewitz. The theory of the armed nation has received -extension, but, after all, the Prussian system in its essentials -dates from Jena, and the steps by which it has produced the admirable -existing armies of France, Austria, and Roumania have been but slow. - -The United States stand apart. Their resources are so fabulously great -that they and they alone are able to wait for war before making war -preparations. No power will attack the United States. All powers will -submit to many things and yield many strong points rather than fight -the United States. The only territorial neighbors of the republic -are not only not in a position to enter into military rivalry with -her on the American continent, but are not advancing their military -establishments with the growth of their or of her population. They are -of themselves not only unable to attack, but equally unable in the long -run effectively to resist her. - -The whole question, then, unfortunately for us Europeans, is a -European question, and I need make but little reference to happier -lands across the greater seas. - -In Europe the United Kingdom stands absolutely apart. The existence of -the British Empire depends less upon our armies than on our fleets. -India is garrisoned by a small but costly army, sufficient for present -needs, but insufficient to meet their probable growth. The home army, -kept mainly in England and Ireland (and in Ireland now only because -life is cheap in Ireland and the country healthy and well fitted for -the drill and discipline of troops), has been chiefly a nursery for the -white army in India, and will be for that in South Africa and in India. -The expeditions which the country is obliged to send from time to time -across the seas have but a domestic interest, and are unimportant when -viewed from a world-wide military stand-point. In the event of war the -attention of the country would be concentrated upon her fleets, with a -view to retain that command of the sea without which her old-fashioned -army would be useless. - -Belgium has an old-fashioned army of another type. A small force of -conscripts is “drawn” and the men are allowed to find substitutes for -money. But Belgium and the other smaller Powers, except Switzerland, -Roumania, and Bulgaria, may be neglected in our survey. Switzerland has -developed an excellent army of a special local type, a cheap but highly -efficient militia, the most interesting point about which is that, -while field artillery is supposed to be difficult of creation and only -to be obtained upon a costly and regular system, Switzerland produces -an excellent field artillery upon a militia footing. The garrison -artillery militia of Great Britain have longer training than the field -artillery of the Swiss Federation, but the results of the training -are very different. Similarly, while cavalry is supposed to be in the -same position as artillery in these matters, Hungary produces a good -cavalry upon a militia system. It is, however, to the native army in -India that we have to turn if we want to see what long service cavalry -in past centuries used to be, for in these days of shorter service -cavalry at least has suffered a decline, and, so far from cavalry, on -the whole, presenting us with a picture of military progress in the -century, the cavalry of the present day is not to be compared with the -cavalry of the past. Roumania and Bulgaria, although small countries, -have remarkable armies of the most modern type, of great strength -when considered proportionately to their populations; but these need -not come under our examination, because substantially they are on the -Prussian plan. - -Russia differs from Germany, France, and Austria in having an immense -peace army. Her peace army is indeed as large as that of the whole -of the Triple Alliance, and the enormous distances of Russia and the -difficulties of mobilization and concentration force her into the -retention and development of a system which is now peculiar to herself. -The armies of Russia resemble more closely (although on a far larger -scale) the old armies of the time before the changes which followed -1866 than the French, German, and Austrian armies of to-day. Italy is -decreasing her army, and has been driven by her financial straits to -completely spoil a system which was never good except on paper. It is -doubtful whether now in a sudden war the Italians could put into the -field any thoroughly good troops, except their Alpine battalions, which -are equal to those of the French. The Austrian system does not differ -sufficiently from those of Germany and of France to be worthy special -note, although it may be said in passing that the Austrian army is now -considered by competent observers to be excellent. We may take as our -type of the armies of to-day those of Germany and of France. These -armies are also normal as regards their cost. Great Britain having no -conscription, and being in the habit of paying dearly for all services, -is extravagant in her military expenditure for the results obtained. -Switzerland and Russia, with their different systems, and for different -reasons, obtain their armies very cheaply; and if we wish to know the -cost of the modern military system it is to Germany and to France that -we should turn. - -Those who would study the French or German army for themselves will -find a large literature on the subject. The principles which govern -the establishment of an armed nation upon the modern Prussian scale, -improved after the experiences of 1866 and again after those of 1870, -are explained in the work of Von der Goltz, _The Nation in Arms_. Those -who would follow these principles into their detailed application, and -see how the armies are divided between, and nourished and supplied from -the military districts of one of the great countries, will find the -facts set forth in such publications as the illustrated _Annual of the -French Army_, published each year by Plon, Nourrit, et Cie., or in the -official handbooks published by the Librairie Militaire Baudoin. - -In the time of Bonaparte and even in the time of the Second Empire in -France army corps were of varying strength, and there was no certain -knowledge on the part of administrators less admirable than the first -Napoleon himself of the exact numbers of men who could be placed in -the field. In 1870 Louis Napoleon was wholly misinformed as to his -own strength and as to that of his opponents, which were, however, -accurately known to Von Moltke. In these days such confusions and -difficulties are impossible. The army corps of the great military -powers are of equal strength and would be equally reinforced in the -extraordinarily rapid mobilization which would immediately precede and -immediately follow a declaration of war. The chief changes in the -century have been a greater exactitude in these respects, a general -increase of numbers (especially a great increase in the strength of -field artillery), and in these last years a grouping of the army corps -into armies, which exist in Germany, France, and Russia even in time of -peace, with all their generals and staffs named ready for war. In each -of the great military countries the army is guided by the counsel of a -general staff. Around the chief of the staff and the Minister of War -are the “generals of armies,” and in France a potential generalissimo -(who on the outbreak of war would often be superseded by another -general in the actual command). In the case of Germany the command -would now be exercised by the young Emperor. In the case of France it -would be exercised by the generalissimo, with the chief of the staff -as his “Berthier” or major-general. Enormously important duties in the -case of armies so unwieldy as the entire forces of the first line and -of the second line in Germany or France and of the first line in Russia -would be exercised by the “generals of armies.” These generals in time -of peace are called “inspectors of armies” in France, Germany, and -Austria, and they inspect groups of army corps which would be united -in war to form the armies which these generals would actually command. -These generals also form the council of war or principal promotion -board and committee of advice for the generalissimo and chief of the -staff. In Germany and in Austria-Hungary the German Emperor and the -Emperor-King respectively are virtual general inspectors-in-chief of -the whole army, but in France and in Russia there is less unity of -command. The Minister of War in Russia, in Germany, and in France is -intended to be at the head of the supplies of the army in time of war, -directing the administration from the capital, and not taking his place -in the field. - -The Prussian system, as far as the men are concerned, was adopted -after the disasters of Prussia early in the century, in order to pass -great numbers of men through the ranks without attracting attention by -keeping up a large peace army. The system is now maintained by Germany, -Austria, and France for a different reason. Such powers desire to -have an enormous force for war, but, for budgetary reasons, to keep -with the flag in time of peace the smallest force which is consistent -with training the men sufficiently to enable them upon mobilization -to be brought back to their regiments as real soldiers. It is these -considerations which have induced the younger and more thoughtful of -the Prussian generals to force on Germany a reduction of the period -of infantry service to two years. The army in time of peace becomes -a mere training-school for war, and the service is made as short as -possible, given the necessity of turning out a man who for some years -will continue to have the traditions of a soldier. It is a question -whether something has not been sacrificed, in France, at all events, -to uniformity. A longer period of training is undoubtedly necessary -to make an efficient cavalry soldier than is necessary to make an -efficient infantry private; and a man who has served about two and a -half years only in a cavalry regiment cannot in the majority of cases -be brought back into the cavalry after he has returned to civil life. -Cavalry, in the modern armies, is likely to be a diminishing force as -war goes on. The armies will enter upon war with a number of infantry -which can be kept up, the losses of war being supplied by reserve men -as good as the men of the first line; but each army will enter upon -war with a force of cavalry which will be rapidly destroyed if it is -much used, and which will not be replaced in the same manner. The -reserve cavalry of which the French press boasts is a paper force, -and the pretended mobilization of two of its regiments a farce. The -French would take the field with the cavalry of the first line only, -seventy-nine regiments of five hundred horses (all over six years old), -or less than half the eighty-four thousand cavalry with which Napoleon -marched in 1812. The same thing might possibly be said of artillery as -is said of cavalry but for the fact that Switzerland tells a different -story as to the possibility of rapidly training artillerymen with a -considerable measure of success. The French improvised artillery of the -latter part of the war of 1870 were also a creditable force, while it -was discovered to be impossible to create a cavalry. - -The efficiency of the reserves in France, Germany, and Austria is -tested by the calling out of large portions of them every year for -training, and they are found, as far as the infantry go, thoroughly -competent for the work of war. The difficulties as regards cavalry are -so obvious that it is becoming more and more recognized by Germany -and by France that the cavalry will have to take the field as they -stand in peace, and that their reserve men will have to be kept back -with a view to the selection among them of those who are fit to serve -as cavalry, and the relegation of the greater number to the train -and other services where ability to ride and manage horses is more -necessary than the smartness of a good cavalryman. France and Germany -nominally look forward to the creation of two kinds of armies in time -of war, one of the first line to take the field at once, and the other -to guard the communications and garrison and support the fortresses, -but in fact it is the intention of these powers to divide their armies -into three—a field army of the first line, a field army of the second -line, out of which fresh army corps will at once be created on the -outbreak of war, and, thirdly, a territorial army for communications -and for fortress purposes and as a last reserve. It is a portion of the -French and German system that each army corps of the first line—and -the same would be the case in war with the second line corps—has its -separate organization of ammunition train and baggage train, and draws -as largely as possible its supplies from its own territorial district. - -The peace strength of the great modern armies is for France and Germany -about five hundred thousand men each, and the war strength between four -million and five million men each. The peace strength of Russia is now -over nine hundred thousand men. Of the war armies the training is not -uniformly complete, but there are in Germany, France, Austria, and -Roumania sufficient reserves of clothing and rifles to equip the war -armies of those powers for the field. - -The cost of the system of a modern army is very much less than that -of the old-fashioned armies. The United Kingdom spent till lately -(including loan money) about eighteen million pounds sterling upon -her army, India rarely less than fourteen million pounds sterling and -an average of fifteen million pounds, and the British Empire, outside -the United Kingdom and India, two million pounds, or an average of -thirty-five million pounds sterling in all upon land forces. The -expenditure of the United Kingdom upon land forces has been permanently -increased to an enormous extent by the South African war and cannot now -be estimated. The expenditure of France and Germany upon land forces is -greatly less; and of Russia, large as is her peace army, less again. -But France and Germany in the event of war can immediately each of them -place millions of armed men in the field in proper army formation and -with adequate command, whereas the United Kingdom can place a doubtful -three corps in the field in India with great difficulty, and, in the -true sense of the word, no organized force at all at home without -an incredible amount of reorganization and waste of time after the -declaration of war. It is contended by the authorities responsible -for the British army that two army corps could be placed in the field -at home, and elaborate paper arrangements exist for this purpose; but -the facts are as I state them, and not as they are professed to be. -It is pretended that three corps of regulars were despatched to South -Africa. But the cavalry and artillery were, in fact, created by lavish -expenditure a long time after the war had begun and after disasters -caused by their non-existence. - -Centralized as is the administrative system of France and Germany -in everything except war, the necessities of modern warfare have -forced upon the governments of those countries a large amount of -decentralization as concerns military matters, and the less efficient -military machines of the United Kingdom and of Russia are far more -centralized than are the more efficient machines of Germany and of -France. The army corps districts have in the latter countries so much -autonomy as to recall to the political student the federal organization -of the United States rather than the government of a highly centralized -modern power. As soon, however, as war breaks out, the military states -of time of peace would be grouped, and the four or five groups known -as “armies,” also, of course, theoretically, brought together under -the directing eye of the generalissimo. In the case, at all events, of -Germany, unity of direction is perfectly combined with decentralization -and individual initiative. - -The mode in which a modern army on the anticipation of war prepares -itself for the field is extraordinarily rapid in point of time as -compared with the mode found necessary in the time of Napoleon -Bonaparte; and it is this rapidity of mobilization and concentration -which strikes the observer as the greatest change or progress of the -century in connection with armies. But it is a mere consequence of -railroads and telegraphs, and is only the application to military -purposes of those increased facilities of locomotion which have -played so great a part in the progress of the century. Mobilization -is, of course, the union at points fixed beforehand of the men of the -reserves who bring the army up to its war footing, and the clothing and -equipment of these men, and the distribution to the mobilized regiments -of their full materials of war. The cavalry and horse artillery kept -upon the frontier are now in a condition of permanent readiness in -the principal military countries, as they would be used to cover the -mobilization of the remainder of the army. The moment mobilization is -accomplished concentration takes place—on the frontier in the case of -the principal powers. Near the line of concentration are forts, which -play a greater part in the French scheme of defence than they do in -the German. The French in the days of their weakness after 1870 both -constructed a line of intrenched camps and built a kind of wall of -China along the most exposed portion of their eastern frontier; whereas -the Germans are prepared to rely upon their field armies, supported by -a few immense fortresses, such as those (on their western frontier) of -Metz and Strasburg. The French keep in front of their fortresses at -Nancy a strong division, which is virtually always on a war footing, -and both in France and Germany the frontier corps are at a higher peace -strength than those of the interior, and are meant to take the field -at once so as to help the cavalry and horse artillery to protect the -mobilization and concentration of the remainder, and, if possible, to -disturb the mobilization and concentration of the foe. Those who would -study modern armies for themselves should visit Nancy and Metz, but -should not neglect the Swiss annual manœuvres. - -The work of the recruit of Germany and of France, during his two years’ -or nearly three years’ training as the case may be, is as hard as any -human work; and the populations of the continental countries submit, -not on the whole unwillingly, from patriotic motives, to a slavery -of which the more fortunate inhabitants of the United Kingdom and of -the United States have no conception. The British or the Belgian paid -recruit would mutiny if forced to work as works the virtually unpaid -and ill-fed recruit of Russia, Germany, Austria, and France. The -enormous loss to many industries which is caused by the withdrawal of -the men at the age of twenty, just when they are most apt to become -skilled workmen, is in the opinion of some Germans compensated for by -the habit of discipline and the moral tone of stiffness and endurance -which is communicated to the soldier for the rest of his life. This is -perhaps more true of the German character than it is of the inhabitants -of the other countries; and in France, at least, the soldier training -of the entire population is a heavy drawback to industrial and -to intellectual life. There are, however, as will be seen in the -concluding passage of this article, other considerations to be taken -into account, some of which tell the other way. - -The one successful exception to the prevailing military system of the -day is to be found in Switzerland, which has a very cheap army of the -militia type, but one which is, nevertheless, pronounced efficient by -the best judges. The mobilization of Switzerland in 1870 was more rapid -than that of either Germany or France, and, great as are the strides -that both France and Germany have made in rapidity of organization -and as regards numbers since 1870, the Swiss also have reorganized -their mobilization system since that time, and are still able, at a -much less proportional cost, to place in the field at least as large a -proportional force as Germany, and this force believed to be efficient, -although not largely provided with cavalry. - -The greatest change in the battle-fields of the future, as compared -with those of a few years ago, will be found in the development and -increased strength of the artillery. A modern army, when it takes up a -position, has miles of front almost entirely occupied with guns, and -the guns have to fire over the infantry, because there is no room for -such numbers of guns to be used in any other way. The attacking side -(if both, indeed, in one form or another, do not attempt attack) will -be chiefly occupied in obtaining positions on which to place its guns, -and the repeating-rifle itself, deadly as is its fire, cannot contend -at ranges over a thousand yards, unless the riflemen are heavily -intrenched, with the improved shrapnel fire of modern guns. The early -engagements of a war will, indeed, be engagements of cavalry massed -upon the frontier on the second day of mobilization, so rapid will the -opening of war in the future be. This cavalry will be accompanied by -horse artillery and followed by light infantry, constantly practised in -rapid marching in time of peace, or by mounted infantry. But the great -battle-fields of the later weeks will be battle-fields, above all, of -artillery. The numbers engaged will be so great that the heaviest of -all the responsibilities of the generals will be the feeding of their -troops during the battles prolonged during several days, which will -probably occur, and it is doubtful how far the old generals (often -grown unwieldy in time of peace) will be able to stand the daily -and nightly strain of war. Jomini has said that when both sides are -equally strong in numbers, in courage, and in many other elements of -force, the great tragedy of Borodino is the typical battle. Lewal -has pointed out that in the battles of the future such equality must -be expected: “The battle will begin on the outbreak of war in the -operations of the frontier regiments. The great masses as they come -to the field will pour into a fight already raging. The battle will -be immense and prolonged.” Promotion will probably be rapid among the -generals, owing to incompetence and retirement, and certainly among -other officers owing to their exposure in these days of smokeless -powder, when good shots can pick off officers in a manner unknown in -wars which have hitherto occurred. Whether it will be possible to get -armies to advance under heavy fire after the officers have been killed -is doubtful, when we remember that modern armies consist of the whole -population, cowards and brave men alike, and that regimental cohesion -is weakened by the sudden infusion of an overwhelming proportion of -reserve men at the last moment. On the other hand, in the German army -the reserve men will be fewer in the first line than in the French, and -the regimental system more available in the field, while on the French -side the greater military aptitude of the French race may perhaps be -counted upon to remedy the comparative defect. The Prussians make up -for the inferior military aptitude of the German people by patriotism, -discipline, and the conferring of honor and of civil employment, in -after life, on all who do their duty in war. They also provide more -effectively than do the French against incapacity in high place. Above -all, however, we should attach importance to the wisdom of successive -Kings of Prussia in treating the Prussian army as an almost sacred -institution, and in constantly working in time of peace to make it and -keep it a perfect instrument of war. - -The weakest point, relatively speaking, in the French organization, -and the strongest point, relatively speaking, in the German, is the -officering of the second and third line. The one-year-volunteer system -gives the Germans excellent “territorial” officers, while the French -have been forced virtually to abolish it as impossible of successful -application in a country so jealous of privilege as is modern France. -The territorial infantry regiments of France would be excellent for -the defence of fortresses, but would for field purposes be inferior -to that part of the Prussian landwehr which would remain over after -the completion of the reserve corps. The reserve cavalry regiments of -France have been created in order to provide promotion and sinecure -appointments, and would not produce a cavalry fit for true cavalry -service in the field. It would carry us beyond the proper limits of -this article to explain how it is that the French could create a field -artillery of the second line in time of war which would probably be -superior to that of Germany. This forms a set-off against some other -inferiority of the French. - -The newest point in the development of modern armies is the recent -separation in the German army of the cavalry intended for patrol duties -from the cavalry intended for fighting in the field. We have had to -face the same problem in South Africa, but this condition of our war -was peculiar. - -It has been said that the history of warfare is the history of the -struggle among weapons, and that each change in tactics and even in -strategy has come from scientific change affecting weapons. In the -century we have seen the change from the smooth-bore to the rifle -and from the ordinary to the repeating rifle. We have seen the -modifications of artillery, which are beginning to give an application -of the quick-firing principle to field artillery, and the use of high -explosive shells, likely to affect by their explosion even those who -are near the bursting shell and who are not struck by its fragments. -Smokeless powder has altered the look of battles and has reduced their -noise. It provides excuse for the incompetent. It would be easy, -however, to exaggerate the importance of these changes as regards -tactics, and still more with regard to strategy, while with tactics we -are not here concerned. The great continental military nations have -hitherto not allowed themselves to be much affected by the changes in -the weapons, and many of the modern fads which are adopted in small -armies are condemned by the leaders of these great forces. The British -machine guns, for example, like British mounted infantry, are generally -regarded on the continent as a fancy of our own. All nations have their -military fads, except, perhaps, the severely practical Germans. Russia -has its dragoon organization, from which it is receding; America has -her dynamite gun; the French have their submarine torpedo-boats. Our -machine guns are not thought much more of by most Prussians than the -steam-gun of 1844, ridiculed by Dickens in _Martin Chuzzlewit_. If -great change was to have been made in the art of war by modern weapons, -one would have thought that the first things to disappear would be all -vestige of protective armor and the use of cavalry in the field. Yet -protective armor has been recently restored to as large a proportion -of many armies as used it in the wars of the beginning of the century, -and the use of cavalry in the field is defended as still possible by -all the highest authorities on the continent. My own opinion on such -matters is that of a layman and should be worthless, but it agrees with -that of several distinguished military writers. I confess that I doubt -whether in future wars between good armies, such as those of France and -Germany, it will be possible to employ cavalry on the field of battle, -and I go so far as to think that the direct offensive, still believed -in by the Prussians, will be found to have become too costly to be -possible. Our South African experience is not, however, regarded by -continental authorities as conclusive. - -The author of _Ironclads in Action_, Mr. Wilson, who has made a very -thorough study of the future of naval war, has pointed out with great -force the most striking difficulties of war in the future as caused by -the enormous concentration of forces in a particular tract of country. -The result of that concentration must be great difficulties about -supply, prolonged battles of an indecisive kind leading to exposure, -absence of sleep, and to conditions which would form the severest -strain for professional men of war, while those who will now be subject -to them will be the ordinary population, not very specially warriors, -except so far as patriotism may in some cases make up as regards -courage and endurance for absence of military tradition. The vast -number of wounded will be exposed for longer periods than was the case -in many of the earlier wars; but when we remember Leipsic, and Dresden, -and the retreat from Moscow, it is again easy to see that the change -is rather in the direction of generalization of conditions, which -were formerly exceptional, than a change to conditions wholly without -precedent. - -I have all through this article written of Germany and France as the -modern military countries to be taken as a standard in all comparisons. -The French have imitated the Germans very closely since the war of -1870. But, although imitation is generally feeble, it must always be -borne in mind that the French people have greater military aptitude -than the German, and that unless beaten at the beginning of a war they -are always in the highest degree formidable. The perfection of system -is to be found in Germany, and the peculiarities of the German system -are the combination of enlightened patriotism in all its individuality -with iron discipline. The system is so strong that unless well managed -it would crush out individual responsibility; but the system itself -encourages this individual responsibility all down the gradations of -the army to the humblest non-commissioned officer and even to the -detached private. The universality of promotion by a certain high -standard of merit and the absence of jobbery are more thoroughly -obtained in Germany than in any other army, and Lord Wolseley’s -criticisms on the 1898 manœuvres of our own army, criticisms renewed in -1900, in which he told us that no one had done well in the field, and -that this proved that no one could have done his duty during the past -year, would be impossible in Germany, and must have shocked military -opinion throughout that country. - -It is not unusual to assume that the enormous military establishments -of the continent of Europe are an almost unmixed evil. But this may -perhaps be disputed on two grounds. In some cases, such as that of -Italy, the army acts as a kind of rough national university in which -the varied life of districts often discordant is fused into a patriotic -whole, dialects are forgotten, and a common language learned. In -the case of France the new military system is a powerful engine of -democracy. There is a French prince (not of the blood) serving at -this moment in a squad of which the corporal is a young peasant from -the same department. A few years ago I found the Duc de Luynes, who -is also Duc de Chaulnes and Duc de Chevreuse, the owner of Dampierre, -the personal friend of kings, serving, by his own wish, for, as the -eldest son of a widow, he was exempt, as a private of dragoons, and -respectfully saluting young officers, some of whom were his own -tenants. The modern military system of the continent, in the case of -France and Germany at least, may also, I think, be shown to have told -in favor of peace. It is possible for us to occasionally demand a war -with the greater freedom, because we do not as a rule know what war -means. Those of us who have seen something of it with our own eyes are -a very small minority. But every inhabitant of France and Germany has -the reality of war brought home to him with the knowledge that those -of his own kin would have to furnish their tribute of “cannon flesh” -(as the French and Germans call it) at the outbreak of any war; and the -influence of the whole of the women of both countries is powerfully -exerted in consequence upon the side of peace. - - CHARLES W. DILKE. - - - - -NAVAL SHIPS - - -In the conditions of naval warfare the century now closed has seen a -revolution unparalleled in the rapidity of the transition and equalled -in degree only by the changes which followed the general introduction -of cannon and the abandonment of oars in favor of sails for the -propulsion of ships of war. The latter step was consequent, ultimately, -upon the discovery of the New World and of the sea-passage to India by -the Cape of Good Hope. The voyage to those distant regions was too long -and the remoteness from ports of refuge too great for rowing galleys, a -class of vessels whose construction unfitted them for developing great -size and for contending with heavy weather. The change of motive power -made possible and entailed a different disposition of the fighting -power, the main battery weight of ships being transferred from the bows -and sterns—end-on fire—to the broadsides. The combination of these -two new factors caused ships and fleets necessarily to be fought in a -different manner from formerly—entailed, to use the technical word, -new tactics. - -The innovations thus briefly mentioned, though equally radical, were -much more gradual in their progress than those witnessed by our -generation. The latter have occurred not merely within the lifetime but -within the memory of many who are still among us. They are embraced, -easily and entirely, within the reign of Queen Victoria. It has been -said, plausibly, that if a naval officer who died half a century ago -could revisit the earth he would find himself more at home in the ships -of Elizabeth than in those of her present successor. No such sudden -and sharp contrast troubled the seamen of the earlier era. It is true -and interesting to note that the battle of Lepanto in 1573, although a -few vessels of broadside type therein exercised a decisive influence, -was fought chiefly by galleys, while in the contest with the Spanish -Armada in the English Channel fifteen years later sailing ships played -the leading part; but while the fact gives a valuable assistance to -precision of memory by fixing an approximate date when the one type was -definitely supplanted by the other, it remains that the turning-point -thus indicated was reached long after cannon and sails first were -used afloat, and that another century elapsed before the galley was -definitively abandoned. - - -BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF THE TRANSITION - -A few dates will illustrate the swiftness of our recent -transformations. In 1838, when the French navy reduced San Juan de -Ulloa, the principal defence of Vera Cruz, and in 1840, in the British -attack upon Acre, the fighting power was wholly in sailing ships -such as had fought at Trafalgar thirty-five years before. Two small -paddle steamers towed the French frigate into position, while the -four British vessels of the same type contributed only a desultory -addition to the broadsides of seven sailing ships of the line, which -compelled the surrender of the fortress. The first screw ship of the -line in the British navy was launched in 1852; the last sailing ship -of that class went out of commission in 1860. All alike, the ships of -Vera Cruz and of Acre, and their short-reigning successors, the steam -frigates and ships of the line, are now as much things of the past, -in sails, in engines, and in guns, as are the galleys of Lepanto and -the ships of the Armada. By 1870 it had been recognized everywhere -that a type of vessel corresponding in essential features with the -present armored battle-ships had displaced all competitors. The span -of a single generation had seen the transition of the ships of Drake -and Nelson to those of our own day. The career of Farragut was run in -the intermediate period. His success for the most part was achieved and -his renown won with vessels substantially of the older type, but with -auxiliary steam-power. - -It is almost needless to remark that this seemingly abrupt transition -is but one incident in the startling progress made during the century -in all the arts of peace as of war. Like the others, it is due to an -intellectual activity, greater probably than that of our predecessors, -and directed since the peace of 1815 less upon external political -interests than upon scientific investigation, and upon the application -of the results to the improvement of processes of every kind. The -changes in conception and in development of the instruments of naval -warfare result from the increased power of dealing with refractory -material which has been acquired by scientific and practical men in -the laboratory and the workshop. Thus viewed, though so rapid in -realization as to amount to a revolution, not only is the change -seen to be the outcome of a long, though silent preparation, but it -is brought also into its due relation to the general movement of the -age, and found to share its special characteristics. Our ancestors of -the eighteenth century had their own problems, noble and absorbing, -but chiefly political in character. While new worlds were being -gathered into the embrace of European civilization, the leading powers -struggling among themselves for pre-eminence in the work, and while -the harvest was ripening for the French Revolution, science crept -forward, but slowly and silently, the pre-occupation of the few, not -the interest of the many. - -The object of the present article is to describe the type of war vessel -prevalent universally among civilized nations when the nineteenth -century opened, and to trace historically the sequence of ideas and of -facts which have resulted in the type whose general acceptance is seen -now in the practice of the chief naval states. - - -SAILING SHIPS AND BROADSIDE BATTERIES - -When the nineteenth century began, the ships that contended for the -control of the sea were, and for two centuries had been, sailing -ships with broadside batteries: the guns, that is, were distributed -along both sides from the bow to the stern on one, two, three, or -four decks. From the largest down, all were of this type until the -very smallest class was reached. In the latter, which could scarcely -be considered fighting ships, the gun power was at times concentrated -into a single piece, which swept from side to side round the horizon, -thus anticipating partially the modern turreted ironclad with its -concentrated revolving battery. - -The arrangement of guns in broadside involved anomalies and -inconveniences which seem most singular when first noted. A ship in -chase of another, for instance, had no guns which threw straight ahead. -If it were wished to fire, in order to cripple the fleeing enemy, -it was necessary to deflect from the course; and in order to bring -most of the guns on one side into play the vessel had to swing round -nearly at right angles to the direction of pursuit. This, of course, -lost both time and ground. Broadside fire—the distribution of guns -in broadside—rests, however, upon an unchangeable condition, which -controls now as it did a century ago. Ships then were from three to -four times as long as they were broad; the proportion now is, length -from four to six times the breadth—or beam, as it is technically -called. Therefore, except in small vessels, where the concentration -of the whole weight that can be carried in battery gave but one piece -effective against a probable target, a full development of fire -required the utilization of the long side of the ship rather than of -its short cross-section. This is precisely analogous to the necessity -that an army has of deploying into line, from any order of march, in -order to develop its full musketry fire. The mechanical attainment of -the last century did not permit the construction of single guns that -would contain the weight of the whole battery of a big ship: but even -had it, guns are not wanted bigger than will penetrate their target -most effectively. When an ounce of lead will kill a man it is useless -to fire a pound. The limit of penetration once reached, it is numbers, -not size, that tell: and numbers could be had only by utilizing -the broadside. This condition remains operative now; but as modern -battle-ships present two or more kinds of target—the heavy armored -and that which is light armored, or unprotected—the application of -the principle in practice becomes more complicated. Batteries now are -necessarily less homogeneous than they once were, because targets vary -more. - - -DISAPPEARANCE OF BOW FIRE - -The adoption of broadside batteries followed, therefore, necessarily -upon increase of size and consequent length, but not upon that only. It -is instructive to observe that the sailing fighting ship was derived, -in part, at least, from the galley, and its resemblance in form to the -latter is traceable for at least a century after the general disuse -of the oar. As the galley, however, was small, it could concentrate -its fire advantageously in one or two pieces, for which small number -the cross-section offered a sufficient line of emplacement: and as, -when it could move at all, it could move in any direction, there was a -further advantage in being able to fire in the direction of its motion. -Hence, bow fire prevailed in galleys to the end, although the great -galleasses of Lepanto and the Armada had accepted broadside batteries -in great part, and whenever the galley type has recurred, as on Lake -Champlain during our Revolutionary War, bow fire has predominated. The -sailing ship, on the contrary, was limited as to the direction in which -she could move. Taking her as the centre of a circle, she could not -steer directly for much more than half the points on the circumference. -Bow fire consequently was much less beneficial to her, and, further, -it was found that, for reasons not necessary to particularize, her -sailing, steering, and manœuvring were greatly benefited by the -leverage of sails carried on the bowsprit and its booms, projecting -forward of the bow, where they interfered decisively with right-ahead -fire. - -For all these reasons, bow fire disappeared and broadside fire -prevailed; but the fundamental one to be remembered is the greater -development of fire conferred by greater length. All ships—except -the very small ones known as schooners, cutters, and gunboats—were -broadside vessels, moved by canvas which was carried commonly on two -or three masts; but into the particulars of the sails it is presumed -readers will not care to enter. Being thus homogeneous in general -characteristics, the ships of this era were divided commonly into -three principal classes, each of which had subdivisions; but it was -recognized then, as it is now in theory though too little in practice, -that such multiplication of species is harmful, and our forerunners, by -a process of gradual elimination, had settled down upon certain clearly -defined medium types. - -The smallest of the three principal classes of fighting ships were -called sloops-of-war, or corvettes. These had sometimes two masts, -sometimes three; but the particular feature that differentiated them -was that they had but one row of guns in broadside, on an uncovered -deck. The offices discharged by this class of vessel were various, but -in the apprehension of the writer they may be considered rightly as -being above all the protectors or destroyers of commerce in transit. -All ships of war, of course, contributed to this end; but the direct -preying upon commerce, upon merchant ships, whose resisting power -was small, was done most economically by small vessels of relatively -small power. Having a given amount of tonnage to devote to commerce -destroying, many small vessels are more effective than a few big -ones of unnecessary force. Such being the nature of the attack, the -resistance must be similar in kind. That is, a flock of merchant -ships being liable to attack by many small adversaries, several -small protectors would be more efficient than one or two large ones. -Sloops-of-war served also as despatch vessels and lookouts of a fleet, -but were less well adapted to this service than the frigate was. - - -THE FRIGATE AND HER GUNS - -This latter celebrated and favorite class of ship stood next in order -of power above the corvette, with which it might also be said to -have blended; for although in the frigate class there were two, or -at the most three, rates that predominated vastly in numbers over -all the rest, yet the name covered many differing degrees of force. -The distinguishing feature of the frigate was that it carried one -complete row of guns upon a covered deck—upon a deck, that is, which -had another deck over it. On this upper or spar deck there were also -guns—more or fewer—but lighter in weight than those on the covered -deck, usually styled the main deck. The two principal classes of -frigates at the beginning of this century were the thirty-two-gun -and the thirty-eight-gun. That is, they carried nominally sixteen or -nineteen guns on each side; but the enumeration is misleading, except -as a matter of comparison, for guns of some classes were not counted. -Ships generally had a few more cannon than their rate implied. The -United States thirty-two-gun frigate _Essex_, for example, carried at -first twenty-six long twelves on the main deck, with sixteen carronades -and two chase guns on the spar deck. Above these two classes came the -forty-four-gun frigate, a very powerful rate, which was favored by -the United States navy and received a development of strength then -unprecedented. - -Being such as here described, the frigate was essentially, though not -exclusively, the appendage of a fleet of line-of-battle ships. Wars are -decided not by commerce destroying nor by raids, however vexatious, but -by fleets and armies, by great organized masses—that is, by crushing, -not by harassment. But ships of the line, to perform their function, -must keep together, both when cruising and when on the field of battle, -in order to put forth their strength in combination. The innumerable -detached services that must be discharged for every great organized -force need for a fleet to be done by vessels of inferior strength, -yet so strong that they cannot be intercepted or driven off lightly -by every whipper-snapper of an armed ship that comes along. Moreover, -a fact not always realized, speed—speed to hasten on a mission, to -overtake a foe, or to escape pursuit—depends upon size, masts that -can carry sail and hold way amid heavy seas. Hence the frigate, not -the lighter sloop, was indicated for the momentous duties upon which -depended the intelligence and the communications of the fleet. Such -leading considerations are needed to be stated and to be kept in mind, -for they affected the warfare of the last decade of the century quite -as really as they did that of the first, and a paper would indeed be -incomplete which confined itself to indicating points of difference -of progress, so-called, and failed to recognize those essential and -permanent conditions which time will never remove. Frigates and sloops -have disappeared in name and form, in motive power and in armament. -Their essential functions remain, and will remain while war lasts. - - -DUTIES OF THE FRIGATE - -The truth of this statement will be evident from a brief mention of -the duties frigates actually used to perform. While attending the -fleet, not merely a part of it, the frigates were thrown out far -in advance and on each side, as cavalry on land scours the country -towards or through which the army advances. The distance to which -they would be thus detached would sometimes amount to one hundred or -two hundred miles, and the absence to days, rejoining being assured -by the assignment of a rendezvous, or by an adequate knowledge of the -admiral’s intended movements. It will be recognized that when thus -alone frigates might meet equal or superior forces, to resist or to -escape from which both strength and speed were needed. An extreme and -particular case of such service was the watching of an enemy’s port -by one or more frigates, when they had to keep close to the entrance, -although a fleet might be within. Again, frigates were placed in -certain central positions, rendezvous known only to the superior -officers, where they cruised steadily, having information as to the -whereabouts of the fleet, or instructions for expected vessels. They -were there centres of intelligence, round which the movements of the -whole body revolved. - -When the fleet was actually in touch with a hostile fleet, in pursuit, -or when expecting battle, the frigates were placed between their own -force and the enemy; nearer, however, to the latter, as the essential -point was to keep knowledge of his whereabouts and probable intentions. -Such a position was at times extremely exposed. The frigates had to -avoid equally capture and being driven and shaken off; they must keep -close, yet not be caught. When engagement ensued they passed through to -the off side of their own fleet, where they were dispersed at intervals -abreast the main line, like the file closers of a military line ashore. -Here they fulfilled one special purpose, besides others. As the fleet -fought with broadsides only, its ships were ranged one ahead of the -other. Consequently signals made on the masts of the admiral could not -be seen always by those ahead or astern of him; but the frigates in the -other line made the same signals, “repeated,” as it was said, where -they could be read more certainly. But frigates did also more hazardous -work. They went to crippled ships of the line and towed them into other -positions, into or out of fire, and at times the admiral summoned a -frigate alongside to carry a message to some part of the battle. “I -noticed,” says Marryatt, in one of his novels, “the look of pride on -the faces of our officers when it appeared that the loss on board our -frigate was greater than that of some of the ships in the line.” - -For such offices it is evident there were wanted a strength and a -weight which the corvette did not have. A corvette would make poor -work of towing a heavy ship, and could not carry as surely the -sail needed to maintain a position. At the same time it should be -observed that excess of size above the requirements stated should -be exceptional. In the opinion of the writer the forty-four-gun -frigate in her day possessed a fighting force and a weight of body -in excess of that required by the ordinary functions of her nominal -class. For exceptional reasons, a few of the type were permissible -in a large navy. On the other hand, it may be inferred from the long -experience of the British navy, and the resultant practice, that ships -of twenty-eight, twenty-four, and twenty guns, though often styled -frigates, were not found satisfactory as such. In the distribution of -tonnage between size and numbers, a mean must be found; and it must be -added that a just mean is a very different thing from a compromise. -These considerations also apply to present-day problems. - - -EARLY SHIPS OF THE LINE - -In the fleet-ship, likewise the ship of the line, as the opening -century styled the class of vessel known in the closing days as the -battle-ship, our predecessors had reached a mean conclusion. The -line-of-battle ship, or the ship of the line, as more usually called, -differed from the frigate generically, in that it had two or more -covered decks. There were one or two cases of ships with four decks, -but, as a rule, three were the extreme; and ships of the line were -roughly classed as two or three deckers. Under these heads two-deckers -carried in their two centuries of history from fifty to eighty-four -guns; three-deckers from ninety to one hundred and twenty. The increase -in number of guns, resulting, as it did, from increase of size, was not -the sole gain of ships of the line. The bigger ships got, the heavier -were their timbers, the thicker their planking, the more impenetrable, -therefore, their sides. There was a gain, in short, of defensive as -well as offensive strength, analogous to the protection given by armor. -“As the enemy’s ships were big,” wrote a renowned British admiral, -“they took a great deal of drubbing.” - -Between the great extremes of strength indicated by fifty and one -hundred and twenty guns—whose existence at one and the same time -was the evidence of blind historical development, rather than of -intelligent relative processes—the navy of a century ago had settled -upon a mean, to appreciate which the main idea and purport of the ship -of the line must be grasped. The essential function of the ship “of the -line” was, as the name implies, to act in combination with other ships -in a line of battle. To do this was needed not only fighting power, -but manœuvring ability—speed and handiness—and in order that these -qualities might approach homogeneousness throughout the fleet, and so -promote action in concert, the acceptance of a mean type was essential. -To carry three decks of guns, a ship had to expose above water a side -disproportionately high relatively to her length, her depth, and her -hold upon the water. She consequently drifted rapidly when her side was -turned to the wind; while, if her length was increased, and so her hold -on the water, she needed more time and room to tack and to wear—that -is, to turn around. Ships of this class also were generally—though not -necessarily—slow. - - -ADVANTAGES OF THE SEVENTY-FOURS - -The two-decked ship was superior in speed and in handiness, and for -that reason, even when acting singly, she could put forth such power -as she possessed more quickly and more certainly. But these qualities -were most conspicuously valuable when ship had to act with ship. The -great secret of military success, concerted action in masses, was in -the hands of the two-decked ship, because in her were united to the -highest point individual power and facility for combined action. And -this was true not only of two-deckers in general, but of the particular -species known as the seventy-four-gun ship. Ships below that rate -lacked individual fighting power. Ships above it, the eighty and -eighty-four, lost manœuvring power because of their greater length and -weight. Under the conditions of sail a fleet of seventy-fours could get -out the whole power of the force more surely and more rapidly than the -equivalent number of guns in ships of any other kind. Thus offensive -power dictated its survival. To our own day it reads the lesson that -offensive power, the _sine quâ non_ of a military organization, lies -not merely in the greatest strength of the single ships, but in -the uniformity of their action and rapidity of their movements, as -conducive to the quick putting forth of the strength of the whole body -at once and in mutual support. - -It may be asked naturally, why, then, were there any ships bigger -or smaller than this favored type? For smaller, the answer is that -short ships of lighter draught are best suited for shoal or intricate -navigation. The shoals of Holland forbade heavy ships to the Dutch -navy, materially reducing its fighting strength. Before France entered -our Revolutionary struggle the British sent only sixty-fours to -operate upon our comparatively shallow coasts and bars. As regards -bigger ships, they were useful exceptionally, as were forty-four-gun -frigates, and for the following reason: Every line of battle has three -particularly dangerous points—the centre, because there the line, -if pierced, divides into the two smaller fragments; and the flanks, -or ends, because the extremities are supported less easily by the -rest of the force than the centre is, one extremity being farther -from the other than the centre is from either. Such local weakness -could not be remedied by the use of two ships, for, if the line were -properly closed, one of them could fire at the enemy only through or -over the other. The sole way of giving the strength there required -was by concentrating it into individual ships, either by putting on -the additional battery, which gives a three-decker, or by making the -seventy-four heavier, resulting in an eighty-gun ship on two decks. -These stronger vessels were, therefore, stationed in the centre or on -the flanks of a line of battle. The particular functions, the _raison -d’être_, of the three leading classes of ships of war—the sloop, the -frigate, and the ship of the line—have now been stated. It remains to -give an account of the chief features of the armament carried on their -broadsides, as described. - - -BATTERIES SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO - -When the nineteenth century began, batteries of ships were composed -of two principal classes of guns: the long gun and the short gun, or -carronade. The difference between these lay in the way the weight of -metal allowed for each was utilized. The long gun, as its name implies, -was comparatively long and thick, and threw a small ball with a heavy -charge of powder. The ball, therefore, flew swiftly, and had a long -range. A carronade of the same weight was short and comparatively thin, -could use only a small charge of powder, lest it burst, and threw a -large ball. Its shot, therefore, moved slowly and had short range. -Fired at a target—a ship’s side—within range of both guns, the shot -from the long gun penetrated quickly, the wood had not time to splinter -badly, and a clean hole was the result. The carronade’s shot, on the -contrary, being both larger and slower, penetrated with difficulty, -all the surrounding wood felt the strain and broke up into splinters, -leaving a large jagged hole, if the shot got through. These effects -were called respectively piercing and smashing, and are reproduced, -in measure, upon targets representing the side of a modern ironclad. -They have been likened familiarly to the effect of a pistol-ball and -of a stone upon a window pane: the one goes through clean, the other -crashes. - -The smashing of the carronades, when fully realized, was worse than -penetration, and was greatly dreaded; but, on the other hand, a ship -which feared them in an opponent might keep out of their range. This -expedient was so effective that carronades, which did great damage -until their tactics were understood, gradually fell into disfavor. -Nevertheless, they remained in use till after the peace of 1815. In -1814 the battery of the U. S. S. _Essex_ was chiefly carronades, and -their inadequate range was a large factor in her defeat. - -At the period in question guns of all sorts fired only non-explosive -projectiles, solid or hollow shot. The destructive shell of the present -day was used only by pieces called mortars, in vertical firing, which -will be spoken of farther on. Such were not mounted on the ships of -the fleet generally, nor used against shipping, except when packed in -a small harbor. They did not enter into naval warfare proper. The ram -and the torpedo of present warfare were unknown. On the other hand, -there was practised a form of fighting which is thought now to have -disappeared forever, namely, boarding and fighting hand-to-hand on the -deck. Even then, however, boarding did not decide the main issue of a -sea-fight, except occasionally in very small vessels. The deck of a -large and fresh ship was not to be reached easily. Boarding was like -the cavalry charge that routs a wavering line; the ship had been beaten -at the guns before it occurred. - -The real fighting was done by the long guns and carronades disposed -in the broadsides. Besides rapidity and precision of fire, always -invaluable, the two opponents sought advantage of position by -manœuvring. They closed, or they kept apart, according to their -understanding of the other’s weight and kind of battery. Each tried, -when possible, to lie across the bow or the stern of the enemy, for -then his guns ranged from end to end of the hostile ship, while the -latter’s broadside could not reply. Failing this extreme advantage -of position, the effort was made so to place one’s self that the -opponent’s guns could not bear—for they swept only a few degrees -before and abaft the broadside—while your own could. If this also -was impossible, the contestants lay side to side at a greater or less -distance, and the affair became an artillery duel. - - -BRITISH AND FRENCH STYLES OF FIGHTING - -Besides these recognized advantages of position, there was also a -question upon what part of the enemy the fire should be directed. In -this there were two principal schools of tactics, one of which aimed at -the hull, to break down the fire of the hostile ship and destroy her -fighting men, while the other sought, by pointing higher, to cut away -the sails, rigging, and masts, rendering the foe helpless. The latter, -in general, was the policy of the French; the former, and, it may be -affirmed, the more surely successful, was the practice of the British. -The two schools find their counterpart in the tactical considerations -which now affect the question of rapid-fire and of heavy guns, each -of which has its appropriate target, covering in the latter case the -motive power, in the former the personnel. - -These three leading classes of vessels, with their functions, -armaments, and tactics of the single ship, as described, performed in -their day and during the great maritime contests of two centuries all -the duties that at any time can be required of a maritime fighting -organization. By them the control of the sea in the largest sense was -disputed and was determined; by them commerce was attacked, and by them -it was protected. They themselves have passed away, but the military -factors remain the same. The mastery of the sea and the control of its -commerce—of which blockade is but a special case—are now and must -remain always the chief ends of maritime war. The ends continuing the -same, the grand disposition of navies—their strategy—reposes upon the -same principles that it ever did. Similarly, while the changes in the -characteristics of ships will cause the individual vessel to be fought -in manners different from its predecessors, the handling of masses -of ships in battle—fleet tactics—must proceed on the same general -principles as of old. The centre and the two extremities of all orders -are always the points of danger; concentration upon one or two of the -three, however effected, must be always the principle of action. These -things, which cannot vary, form, therefore, no part of a paper which -deals with changes. - - -THEY HAD THEIR BREAK-DOWNS THEN, TOO - -There should be added for the general public the caution that the -difficulties, the imperfections, and the frequent halting state of -ships-of-war in commission for sea service at the present day are no -new things. To the naval historian familiar with the correspondence of -the past they are the inevitable attendants of all government action, -wherein the most economical methods are always dominated, historically, -by considerations of expediency which are political in character. The -necessity of keeping the public in good-humor, and of not laying open -points upon which opposition can enlarge, induces apparent economies, -which sacrifice not only economy, but the best results. This is a -great evil, as yet apparently inseparable from public enterprises as -distinguished from private ones. If any one supposes that the ships -with which Great Britain overthrew Napoleon, and with which Nelson -and his contemporaries won their as yet unparalleled victories, were -always or generally in good material condition, he is greatly mistaken. -What is different in our day, apparently, is a tendency in ships to -rely for their repairs and material efficiency more upon dock-yards -and workshops than upon their own resources, a disposition also to be -unduly discouraged by imperfections in the motive enginery. War will -correct this or war will fail. In maintaining efficiency while keeping -the sea, quite as much as in fighting skill, lay the supreme excellence -of officers like Nelson and Jervis. Men now ought to appreciate better -than they do what difficulties of this sort seamen underwent a hundred -years ago and how they refused to yield to them. “The difference -between myself and the French marshals,” the Duke of Wellington is -reported to have said, “was as when a man starts on a journey with a -new harness. What if something gives way, as in war something is sure -to go wrong? Shall you stop or go back for a workman? Not so; hitch up -the break with a bit of rope, or whatever comes handy, and go on. That -is what I did.” - -The succession of cause and effect which has produced the present -ship-of-war will be traced in rapid outline, in order to leave as much -room as may be for the description of the essential feature of the ship -herself as she now exists. - -Two chief factors concur to a ship-of-war—motive power and fighting -power. The displacement of sails by engines, and the progressive -development of the latter, are features of the general progress of the -century. The engines of a ship-of-war are differentiated from those of -merchant ships chiefly by the necessity of protection. This affects -their design, which must be subordinated to the requirement of being as -far as possible below the water-line. The further great protection now -afforded is incident rather to the use and development of armor as a -part of the fighting power. - -Fighting power divides into offensive and defensive. Armor now -represents the latter. The fighting ship in every age is the product -of the race between the two, and in the nineteenth century this was -unprecedented in the ground covered and in the rapidity of the pace, -due to the increased power of dealing with materials, already alluded -to. - - -CONTEST OF ARMOR AND PROJECTILE - -The modern contest began with the introduction of horizontal shell -fire in the third decade of the century. This term must be explained. -It has been said that all ships’ guns up to 1815 threw non-explosive -projectiles. In practice this is true; although Nelson alludes to -certain shell supplied to him for trial, which he was unwilling to -use because he wished not to burn his prizes, but to take them alive. -A shell is a hollow projectile filled with powder, the idea of which -is that upon reaching the enemy it will burst into several pieces, -each capable of killing a man, and the flame not impossibly setting -woodwork on fire. It was necessary that the powder within should not -explode from the combustion of the cartridge of the gun, for if it -did its force, combined with the latter, might burst the gun; yet the -process that should result in bursting must begin at that moment or -else it would not take place at all. This difficulty was met by a short -column of hard, compressed powder called the fuse, which extended from -the outside to the inside of the shell. The outer end was inflamed -by the charge of the gun, but from its density it burned slowly, so -that the charge of the shell was not enkindled for five, ten, or more -seconds. This expedient was in use over a century ago; but owing to -imperfections of manufacture, no certainty was attained that the fuse -might not be driven in or broken by the force of the discharge, or the -shell itself be cracked and so explode prematurely. Shell, therefore, -were fired with very light charges; and, to obtain sufficient range—go -far enough—they were used in very short, very thick guns, called -bombs or mortars, to which great elevation was given. Such firing, -because the shell flew high in the air, was called vertical firing, -in contradistinction to the fire of the long gun or carronade, called -horizontal fire because their projectiles rose little above the level. - -The destructiveness of shell from ordinary guns was so obvious, -especially for forts to use against wooden ships, that the difficulties -were gradually overcome, and horizontal shell fire was introduced soon -after the cessation of wars allowed men time for thought and change. -But although the idea was accepted and the fact realized, practice -changed slowly, as it tends to do in the absence of emergency. In the -attack on Vera Cruz, in 1848, Farragut was present, and was greatly -impressed, as with a novelty, by the effect of what he called the -“shell shot,” a hybrid term which aptly expresses the transition state -of men’s minds at the time. I remember an officer who entered the -navy in 1840 telling me the respectful awe and distrust with which -his superiors then regarded the new weapon, a very few of which for -each gun were supplied tentatively. Ten years more, however, saw a -great change, and in 1853 the attack of the Russian squadron of wooden -sailing-ships upon the Turkish vessels in the Bay of Sinope gave an -object-lesson that aroused the naval world to what wooden ships must -expect from horizontal shell fire. In a few minutes three out of seven -Turkish frigates were in flames; while of nine sailing-ships and two -steamers only one of the latter escaped. - - -HORIZONTAL SHELL FIRE - -The Crimean War followed quickly, and in 1854 the wooden steamships of -the line of the allies, vessels identical in fighting characteristics -with those of Trafalgar, attempted to silence masonry works at -Sebastopol. Though the disaster was not so great, the lesson of Sinope -was reaffirmed. Louis Napoleon, a thoughtful man though scarcely a man -of action, had foreseen the difficulty, and had already directed the -construction of five floating batteries which were to carry armor. -Before the war ended these vessels attacked the forts at Kinburn, which -they compelled to surrender, losing, themselves, no men except by -shells that entered the gun ports. Their armor was not pierced. - -Horizontal shell fire had called for iron armor, and the two, as -opposing factors, were now established in the recognition of men. The -contest between the two sums up the progression and the fluctuations -of military ideas which have resulted in the battle-ship of to-day, -which, as the fleet-ship, remains the dominant factor in naval warfare, -not only in actual fact but in present probability. From the first -feeble beginnings at Kinburn to the present time, although the strife -has waxed greatly in degree, it remains unchanged in principle and in -kind. To exclude the shell, because, starting as one projectile, it -became many after penetration, in what does it differ from excluding -the rapid-fire gun, whose projectiles are many from the first, and -penetrate singly? - -There occurred, however, one singular development, an aberration from -the normal line of advance, the chief manifestation of which, from -local and temporary conditions, was in our own country. This was the -transient predominance of the monitor type and idea; the iron-clad -vessel, with very few very heavy guns, mounted in one or two circular -revolving turrets, protected by very heavy armor. The monitor type -embodied two ideas. The first was the extreme of defensive power, owing -to the smallness of the target and the thickness of its armor—the -hull of the vessel rising but little above the water—the turret was -substantially the only target. The second was an extreme compression -of offensive power, the turret containing two of the heaviest guns of -the day, consequently guns of the heaviest penetration, which could -fire, not in one direction, nor in several, but in all directions as -the turret revolved, and which were practically the sole armament -of the ship. The defensive power of the monitor was absolute up to -the extreme resisting endurance of its armor. Its offensive power -must be considered relatively to the target to which its guns were -to be opposed. If much in excess of that target’s resistance, there -was waste of power. Actually in our Civil War monitors were opposed -to fortifications, except in one or two instances when they had to -contend with the imperfect structures which the Confederates could put -afloat. The target, therefore, was not in excess of their gun power. -Moreover, being for coast warfare, the monitor then was necessarily of -small draught and small tonnage. Her battery weight, therefore, must -be small, and consequently lent itself to concentration into two guns, -just as the battery weight of a schooner a century since found its best -disposition in one long traversing gun. - -This was the infancy period of the iron-clad ship. The race between -guns and armor was barely begun, and manufacturing processes still -were crude. As these improved, with astounding rapidity, the -successful production of rifled cannon of ever-increasing dimensions -and penetrative force imposed an increased armor protection, which at -the first was obtained chiefly by an increase of thickness, _i.e._, -of weight. As guns and armor got heavier, ships had to be bigger to -carry them, and, if bigger, of course longer. But the monitor idea, -admirably suited to small ships, had now fast hold of men’s minds—in -England especially, for the United States lapsed into naval somnolence -after the war—and it was carried irreflectively into vessels of huge -dimensions whose hulls rose much above the water. Weight for weight, -the power of the gun outstripped the resistance of armor, and it soon -became evident that even in a large ship perfect protection could be -given only to a part of the structure. Passing over intermediate steps, -the extreme and final development of the monitor idea was reached in -the _Inflexible_, planned in 1876 by the British Admiralty, built in -the following years, and still in service. This vessel was of eleven -thousand eight hundred and eighty tons displacement. She was three -hundred and twenty feet long, and of that length only the central one -hundred and ten feet had protection, but that was by armor two feet -thick, while armored partitions extended from each end of this side -belt across the vessel, forming a box one hundred and ten feet long by -seventy-four broad. Within this box were two turrets, each with sixteen -inches of armor, and carrying two guns which threw a shell of a ton -weight. - - -THE COMING OF THE MONITOR - -The first monitor has been called an epoch-making ship, for she began -an era. The _Inflexible_ was also epoch-making, for she closed the era -of the monitor pure and simple. Upon a development of three hundred -and twenty feet of length she carried only four guns, of which it is -not too much to say that their power was very far in excess of almost -all targets that could be opposed to them. If, indeed, her possible -opponents could have carried such an armor as her own all over their -exposed surface, her guns would have been no heavier than needed, -and the fewness must be accepted; but this was not the case. Like -herself, ships of twelve thousand tons must have a penetrable target -far exceeding in surface the almost impregnable box she presented. -The unreasonableness of the result struck men at once, though of -course she had advocates. As an exception, such a ship might pass; -as a type, never. It was pointed out that guns of very small power -could pierce the exposed ends about the water-line, and that, as water -entered by numerous holes, she would not only sink lower, but for -constructional reasons, not necessary here to give, she would lose -stability rapidly—become liable to overset. If under such conditions -she attempted to turn round, the inclination vessels take in so doing -would be enough alone to cause her to capsize. Her defenders did not -deny this; but they said that the likelihood of her exposed ends being -so riddled was too slight to justify alarm. - -Under artillery conditions, then, this reply was plausible, though -it soon ceased to be so. Even then, however, it was true that a ship -with only four guns that fired very slowly, and with such an exposed -surface, was liable to serious injury from a nimble antagonist firing -many guns rapidly. The defensive weakness of the _Inflexible_ is -apparent; her offensive power, great as in the aggregate it was, was -much impaired by lack of proper development, by undue compression -into very few guns, the larger part of whose effect was wasted, -except in the rare instances when they struck a target not often to -be encountered. But this was not the only deduction from her strength -through the excess of concentration. Very large guns fire very slowly, -yet they are as subject to inaccuracy from the motion of the ship as -is the smallest piece. Where the target is missed, it is immaterial -whether the shot weighs a ton or a pound; and a gun that fires ten -times to another’s once has ten times the chance of hitting. It is -evident, therefore, taking the _Inflexible_ as she was, that a ship -of the same weight and length with ten guns in broadside—twenty -altogether—and with similar armor over her engines only, would have -at the least a fair chance against the _Inflexible_, and would be much -more efficient against vessels with average armor. Each of her ten guns -firing once a minute, while the _Inflexible’s_ cannon required five -minutes for discharge, would give over ten shots to one. - - -CRITICISM OF THE _INFLEXIBLE_ - -While the _Inflexible_ was building there was born the idea whose -present maturity enforces the abandonment of the pure monitor, except -for vessels comparatively small and for special purposes. Machine guns, -the Gatling, and the mitrailleuse were already known, and the principle -was being applied to throw projectiles of a pound weight and over, -which were automatically loaded and fired, requiring only to be aimed. -Upon these followed the rapid-fire gun, of weight greatly exceeding -theirs, the principle of which may be said to be that it is loaded -by hand, but with ammunition so prepared and mechanism for loading -so simple and expeditious as to permit a rate of firing heretofore -unparalleled. The highest extension of this principle is reached in the -five-inch gun, up to which size the cartridge and the projectile make a -single package called fixed ammunition, which is placed by one motion. -Together they weigh ninety-five pounds, about as much as an average -man can handle in a seaway, the projectile itself weighing fifty -pounds. There are, it is true, six-inch rapid-fire guns, but in them -the cartridge and shell are placed separately, and it is questionable -whether such increase of effect, through greater weight, as they give -is not gained at a loss of due rapidity. - -The _Inflexible_ exemplified in an extreme form the elements of -offensive and defensive strength and weakness. Four guns of enormous -calibre and no other battery, except pieces so light as to be useless -against the thinnest armor, an impenetrable wall, covering a very -limited area, and the remainder of the hull exposed, to be cut to -pieces by a battery of numerous light cannon. When to the latter the -rapid-fire idea was successfully applied, multiplying their efficiency -three or fourfold, her position, as an example to be followed, became -untenable. The monitor idea, which refused to utilize the broadside for -developing fire, and aimed chiefly at minimizing the target, evidently -needed qualification after a certain moderate limit of size was passed; -and that limit of size was when the entire weight of battery the ship -could carry sufficed only for two, or, at the most, four guns of power -great enough to pierce heavy armor. Strictly, in the opinion of the -writer, the monitor type should not prevail beyond the size that can -bear only one turret. - -In the strife of guns with armor, therefore, increase of power in -guns, outstripping continually the increase of resistance in armor, -called for bigger ships to bear the increased armor weight, till the -latter could not possibly be placed all over the ship’s body. Hence the -exposed target, upon which plays the smaller battery of rapid-fire guns. - -To comprehend fundamentally the subsequent development, we must recur -to the rudimentary idea that a ship of war possesses two chief factors, -motive force and fighting force, the latter being composed of guns -mainly and of men. Corresponding to these two chief powers there were -of old, and there are still, two vulnerable elements, two targets, upon -one or the other of which hostile effort logically and practically -must be directed. A century ago the French, aiming at sails and spars, -sought the destruction of the motive force; the British directed their -fire upon the guns and men. In strict analogy now, the heavy guns seek -the motive power, over which the heaviest armor is concentrated; the -rapid-fire guns, searching the other portions of the ship, aim at the -guns and men there stationed. - - -BATTLE-SHIPS OF THIS DAY - -The logical outcome of these leading ideas is realized in the present -battle-ships as follows: There are two turrets, protected by armor, -the thickest that can be given them, considering the other weights -the ship has to carry, and of the highest resisting quality that -processes of manufacture can develop. Armor of similar character and -weight protects the sides about the engines. In each turret are guns -whose power corresponds to the armor which protects them. Their proper -aim—not, of course, always reached—is the heavy armored part of -the enemy, chiefly the engines, the motive power. When they strike -outside of this target, as often must happen, there is excess of blow, -and consequent waste. The turrets are separated, fore and aft, by a -distance as great as possible, to minimize the danger of a single shot -or any other local incident disabling both. The fact that the ends -of ships, being comparatively sharp, are less waterborne and cannot -support extreme weights, chiefly limits this severance of the turrets. -Between the two, and occasionally before or abaft them, is distributed -the broadside rapid fire of the ship, which in its development is in -contradistinction to the compressed fire of the monitor. This fire is -rapid because the guns are many and because individually they can fire -fast. Thus, the turret gun, twelve or thirteen inch in bore, fires once -in five minutes; the five-inch rapid-fire gun thrice in one minute. The -rapid-fire battery aims outside of the heaviest armor. When it strikes -that, unless it chance to enter a gun port, its effect is lost; but as -much the greater part of the ship is penetrable by it, the chance of -wasting power is less than in the case of the heavier guns. As most of -a ship’s company are outside the protection of the heaviest armor, the -rapid-fire gun aims, as did the British in the old line-of-battle ship, -at the personnel of the enemy. - -The reader will comprehend that in the application of these leading -ideas there is considerable variety in detail. The two turrets may be -looked upon at present as the least variable factor; and in disposing -armor all practice agrees that the turrets and engines receive the -greatest protection. But how to distribute the total available -weight of armor gives rise to varieties of practice which find -their reflection in similar variety in the sizes and numbers of the -rapid-fire guns, to whose penetrative force there is a corresponding -thickness of armor. For example, two battle-ships now building for the -United States navy have four thirteen-inch guns in turrets, and in -broadside fourteen five-inch, twenty six-pounder, and six one-pounder -rapid-fire guns; between the two classes they have four eight-inch -guns, also mounted in smaller turrets, superimposed on the main -turrets. A ship since designed will have the same thirteen-inch gun -fire, but in place of the eight-inch and five-inch will have fourteen -six-inch rapid-fire guns. An expert officer, discussing these, says: -“In the former the weight of fire per minute is two thousand and fifty -pounds on the broadside and five hundred ahead or astern, while with -the latter plan it is only one thousand seven hundred and fifty on the -broadside and five hundred ahead and astern. But the main objection -to the second plan is that the volume of effective fire is enormously -diminished by the omission of eight-inch guns. The larger area covered -with their armor is fairly safe from the six-inch gun at fighting -ranges, whereas the eight-inch projectile at any range, and at even a -considerable angle of incidence, will penetrate it.” In the judgment -of the present writer the weight of this argument depends upon what is -behind the armor the eight-inch only will penetrate. If battery and -men, it is strong, if not decisive; if motive power only, not. - - -HISTORY’S TEACHING AND THE FUTURE - -The object of this paper has been not to present an accumulation of -details, but to elucidate the principles upon which the details rest. -The latter, when correct, are but the application of principles to -practice. Subject to the imperfections attendant on all human work, -the writer is persuaded that the greatest errors in practice—and -especially the lack of homogeneousness which characterizes the -present battle-ships—arise chiefly from the failure to refer back -to principles. Until war has given us the abundant experience which -led our predecessors to the broadside seventy-four as the rule, with -occasional exceptions, we must depend upon reasoning alone for the -solution of our problems; and the reasoner keeps within the limits of -safety only by constant reference to fundamental facts. - -The one experience of war which ships really contemporary have had -was in the battle of the Yalu. Its teachings lose some value from the -fact that the well-drilled Japanese used their weapons to advantage, -while the Chinese were ill trained; still, some fair inferences can -be made. The Japanese had a great many rapid-fire guns, with few -very heavy ones, and their vessels were not battle-ships properly -so-called. The Chinese, besides other vessels, had two battle-ships -with heavy armor and heavy guns. Victory remained with the Japanese. -In the opinion of the writer two probable conclusions can be reached: -That rapid-fire guns in due proportion to the entire battery will beat -down a ship dependent mainly upon turret guns; that is, between two -ships whose batteries are alike the issue of the contest will depend -upon the one or the other gaining first a predominance of rapid fire. -That done, the turret guns of the predominant ship will give the final -blows to the engines and turrets of the other, whose own turret guns -cannot be used with the necessary deliberation under the preponderant -storm of projectiles now turned upon them. The other conclusion, even -more certain than the first, is that rapid-fire guns alone, while -they may determine an action, cannot make it decisive. Despite the -well-established superiority of the Japanese rapid fire in that action, -the Chinese battle-ships, though overborne, were not taken. Their -heaviest armor being unpierced, the engines and turret guns remained -effective, and they withdrew unmolested. - - -BATTLE-SHIPS THAT ARE TOO LARGE - -The battle-ship constituted as described remains for the present the -fighting ship upon which the issues of war will depend. The type is -accepted by all the leading naval states, though with considerable -variations in size. As regards the latter feature, the writer believes -that the enormous tonnage recently given is excessive, and that the -reasons which support it, too numerous and various to be enumerated at -length, have the following fundamental fault: they look too much to the -development of the individual ship and too little to the fact that the -prime requisite of the battle-ship is facility for co-operating with -other ships of its own type—facility in manœuvring together, facility -in massing, facility also in subdividing when occasion demands. It -may be remarked, too, that the increase of size has gone much more to -increase of defensive power than of offensive—a result so contrary to -the universal teachings of war as of itself to suggest pausing. - -Does the present hold out any probabilities of important changes in the -near future, of revolutionary changes? No. For twenty-five or thirty -years now we have been expecting from the ram and from the torpedo -results which would displace the gun from its supremacy of centuries. -Those results, however, are not yet visible. No one disputes the -tremendous effects of the ram and of the torpedo when successfully -used; but I believe I am correct in saying that the great preponderance -of professional opinion does not attribute to them a certainty, or an -approach to certainty, impairing the predominance of the gun. This -is not the conclusion of mere conservation in a profession naturally -conservative. The fluctuations of professional opinion have been -sufficiently marked and the matter sufficiently argued to dispose of -that contention. Nor is this supremacy of the gun probably a transient -matter, liable to pass away with improvements greater than those of -the last quarter of a century. The advantage of the gun depends upon -conditions probably permanent—upon its greater range, its greater -accuracy, its greater rapidity. The individual effect of each shot may -be less than that of a torpedo or of a ram thrust; but, as was said in -comparing very heavy guns with rapid fire, the probability of many hits -prevails over the possibilities of one great blow. - - -THE GUN AND THE TORPEDO - -In none of these features is either of the other weapons likely to -overtake the gun. The torpedo relies mainly upon stealth, the ram -mainly upon a happy chance for effective use. Both stealth and chance -have their place in war; stratagem and readiness, each in place, -may contribute much. But the decisive issues of war depend upon the -handling of masses with celerity and precision, according to certain -general principles of recognized universality. Afloat, such massed -force, to be wielded accurately and rapidly, must consist of units not -too numerous because of their smallness—as torpedo craft would be—nor -too unwieldy because of their size. We may not be able to determine -yet, in advance of prolonged experience of war, just what the happy -mean may be corresponding in principle to the old seventy-four, but -we may be reasonably sure that it will be somewhere in the ranks of -the present battle-ships; and that in the range, accuracy and rapidity -of their gun-fire—especially when acting in fleets—will be found a -protection which the small vessels that rely upon the torpedo or ram -alone will not be able to overcome, though they may in rare instances -elude. - -Concerning the frigates and sloops of our predecessors, their place -is now taken, and their duties will be done, by the classes of -vessel known generically as cruisers, protected or unprotected. The -protection, the defensive element of strength, has reference mainly to -the engines, to the motive power. The battery, the offensive factor, -tends upon the whole to revert more and more to the development of -fire, to utilizing the length of the vessel by multiplying the number -of guns and diminishing their individual size; and the tendency is -increased by the fact that, as such ships are expected to fight only -vessels of their own kind, their probable target is penetrable by light -guns. Speed is the great element in the efficiency of cruisers, and -whatever the speed in smooth water, a great advantage inures to larger -ships in heavy winds and seas. As for “armored” cruisers, of which -there are many, they belong rather to the class of battle-ships than -of cruisers. Whatever the advantages of the particular ships, the name -suggests a regrettable confusion of purpose, and, in practice, a still -more regrettable departure from homogeneity. - - A. T. MAHAN. - - - - -LITERATURE - - -“Time and space,” a noble philosopher has observed, “are but -hallucinations.” It may be so, and from the point of view of the -metaphysician ours may have been merely a “so-called nineteenth -century.” Certain it is that to judge literature in blocks of centuries -is to make a convenient but illogical cross-division. The early, and -perhaps the most important, literary influences of the century were in -existence long before 1801. Thus, if we look at whatever is now called -_fin de siècle_, at violent antagonism to tradition and convention, at -discontent of every sort with everything—with rank, wealth, morality, -law, marriage, the family—we find that this passion was as noisy -and self-complacent a hundred years ago as it is to-day. The French -Revolution was the lurid playground of “New Women,” full of what they -supposed to be new ideas. The German drama of 1780–1800, now best -remembered by the parody called “The Rovers,” in the _Anti-Jacobin_, -was replete with the humorless paradoxes and strained situations of -Ibsen. The shortest way to an understanding of the antiquity of our -“new ideas” is, in fact, a study of the Poetry of the _Anti-Jacobin_. - -Romance, again, as far as romance depends for her effects on desperate -deeds, on the rhetoric of noble brigands, on the phantasms of the -sheeted dead shivering down dark passages among skeletons, on clanking -chains, and on distressed damsels, was as much alive in the end of -the eighteenth century as at any age of literary history. Goethe, -Schiller, Bürger, Mrs. Radcliffe, all following in the Gothic wake of -honest Horace Walpole and his _Castle of Otranto_, were preparing the -ground for Scott and Dumas. Once more the old “popular” elements so -necessary to literature (which, like Antæus, regains vigor on touching -mother-earth) had been wholly absent from the poetry and prose of -the last reigning Stuart and of the first two Hanoverian kings of -England. But, about 1770–1780, literature had returned to its archaic -popular sources. Percy had made _volks-lieder_ fashionable, Fergusson -and Burns had revived the rustic muse of Scotland, and Macpherson -had given mankind a draught, though an adulterated draught, from the -cup of the sorceries of the Celtic enchantress. In opposition to the -urban self-restraint and contented complacency of the Augustan age, -Rousseau had preached the pleasures of virtue, sentiment, and of a -“blessed state of Nature”; young Werther had gotten him a stool to be -sad upon, like Master Stephen: weeping was the mode. Rousseau, as Mr. -Pater once observed in conversation, was “the grandmother of us all,” -and as tearful as Mrs. Gummidge in _David Copperfield_. Meanwhile the -“emancipation” born of science had set in; people thought they knew -all about everything; the elder Darwin could explain the universe -without a God, quite as easily as any modern Darwinian, if not so -elaborately. He may not have been always correct in his theories and -facts, still, there they were, and they were “emancipating.” Yet, -far from being laughed out of court by the gratifying progress of -science, a more mystical religion and a life more austere had come in -from the preaching of Wesley, who was practically the parent of our -neo-Catholicism in its varying forms. The “Oxford Movement,” with all -the strange after-symptoms which it has left behind it, is directly -descended from Wesley. Thus romance, sentiment, freedom and variety -in poetic form, philanthropy, revolt against the past, return to and -reverence for the past, scientific doubt, weariness of life, love -of nature, wistful belief, relapse on the forms of the Church, and -everything else which stamps the literature of the nineteenth century -were alive and active in the last half of the eighteenth century. The -year 1801 made no sudden break. The nineteenth century merely went on -evolving the principles, revolutionary or reactionary, of the last half -of the eighteenth century. - -Thus Crabbe, the precursor of whoever, Englishman, American, Frenchman, -or Slav, has written of the sombre tragedies of the poor, was born in -1754. Blake, whose perfectly un-Augustan rhapsodies and mystic lyrics -were made fashionable about 1870, was born in 1757, out of due time, -for his best side is Elizabethan in quality. Burns, born in 1759, is -as much at home in the nineteenth century as Tolstoï, while Godwin -could not be more “advanced,” or Mary Wollstonecraft more of “a New -Woman,” if the former belonged to our “Forward Liberals” and the latter -perorated at congresses of her sex. The first twenty-five years of Miss -Austen belong to the eighteenth century; yet, except for a certain -“old-fashioned” primness of style, she is the first, and, beyond all -doubt, the greatest of all nineteenth-century “realistic” novelists -of domestic life. For, though a “realist,” she is a humorist, and the -combination is almost unexampled. Your common realist is a gloomy -thing, with no more sense of the comic than M. Zola. - -Of the new poets, revolutionary in metre and matter, Wordsworth, -Scott, Coleridge, and Southey were born in 1770–1774; they were mature -before the nineteenth century dawned. His northern home, among the -hills and lakes, fitted Wordsworth to be the austere and mystical poet -of nature and of man in relation to nature. Born a poet, his genius -was determined by his environment, while his ardent sympathy with the -Revolution at once turned his attention to the unregarded poor, and -inspired his not wholly successful attempt to shake off the trammels -of Augustan “poetic diction,” the survival of the Latinism of Boileau -and Pope. Later, of course, Wordsworth became the Tory, the patriot, -the Churchman, and the Stamp Collector. But his poetical creed he never -consciously changed, though he often lapsed from it unconsciously. If -Scott was to be a poet at all he was fated to be influenced by the New -World, not in its emancipated ideas, but in its wistful return to the -Old World of reivers, spearmen, claymores, goblin, ghost, and fairy. -The Border ballads lulled his cradle and were the joy of his childhood -and manhood. All tradition murmured to him her charms of Border and -Highland legend; every ruined abbey and castle had its tale for him; to -Ettrick and Yarrow he needed not to say, like Lady John Scott, “Have -you no message for me?” He never had a touch of the Augustan horror -of mountain and torrent, never a touch of the Augustan contempt of -“Barbarism.” Walpole’s _Castle of Otranto_ and Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels -of terror went to the molding of his genius, as the novels of Miss -Edgeworth (born 1767) suggested fiction about the lives and manners of -his own people. In his return to the past he came, like Lamb, on the -Elizabethan drama, and, unlike Lamb, on the unpublished documents of -the Tudor age, the age of desperate resistance to England. But Scott -would never have been exactly the poet that he was if he had not heard -“Christabel” recited. “Christabel,” the entirely original utterance -of a genius which, at first, was a child of the enlightenment of the -eighteenth century. The early ideas of Coleridge were the ideas of -Rousseau and of Bernardin de Saint Pierre, who was, like Coleridge, -but more energetically, a seeker for an ideal land where pantisocracy -might flourish and a clown might be the poet’s “brother.” - -In poetry, in poetic form, Coleridge was the real and daring innovator, -inspired by the eighteenth century reaction against convention, and -played on like an æolian harp by every wind of his mystic spirit. His -reaction was too violent even for Lamb; his originality too extreme -even for Wordsworth. In him, of all our later poets, the “unconscious -self” was the strongest and the most free, and of all our poets he had -the hardest battle with the dull Augustan survival in such critics as -Jeffrey. To them all the ripened fruit of the blossoming time of the -late eighteenth century, the poetry of Scott and of Wordsworth, was but -dimly intelligible, but Coleridge was the most unintelligible of all. -From the Germany of the late eighteenth century came one of Scott’s -springs of poetic action; from the _Lenore_ of Bürger (a popular ballad -rewritten) and from the _Götz von Berlichingen_ of Goethe. These were -the days when Scott longed to possess a skull and cross-bones, and -in a love-letter dilated on his choice of a sepulchre. But what came -to Coleridge from Germany was the late eighteenth century’s reaction -against the truly “common-sense” ideas of Hume, the philosophy of Kant, -Schelling, and Fichte. In this field, too, he was unintelligible (and -no wonder), but he was but adapting the ideas of 1770–1800, and the -neo-Hegelians of Oxford are doing the same thing. A reaction against -the materialism of common-sense was inevitable; Mesmer, Swedenborg, and -Kant began what survives in the hands of the Master of Balliol and of -Professor William James. - -In a more recent generation Byron prolonged the Wertherism of Werther, -Byron being thus a grandson of Rousseau, while he borrowed his form, -and borrowed it very ill, from what Scott borrowed of Coleridge. The -genius of Byron is not contested by the sane, but except in satire it -seldom found clear and adequate, because it sought hurried, heedless, -and tumultuous, expression. Scott had a better ear and was not so -reckless an _improvisatore_. Poems that can endure are not written -like Byron’s, in the brief leisure of fashionable industry. We admire -the native impetus of Byron, his gift of satire, his sensitiveness -to elemental force in nature and in man, but we cannot understand -the furore which was so much the child of his title, his beauty, -his recklessness, and his studiously cultivated air of mystery. Mr. -Lenville, as reported by Mr. Folair, said that Nicholas Nickleby was -“a regular stick of an actor, and it’s only the mystery about him that -has caused him to go down with the people here, though Lenville says -he don’t believe there’s anything at all in it.” A later age must -partly adopt the same theory of Byron’s original and unparalleled -success in Europe as well as in England. He was mysterious Manfred, -he was Childe Harold, he was the Corsair; a hero of Mrs. Radcliffe’s, -with an Oriental air and a gloomy secret and a heart burning with -indignation against the unworthy species of men. What had Byron done? -Even Goethe was curious, believing wild anecdotes; now we really do not -care what Byron did, recognizing in him, his genius, and his pose, not -so much the “Satanic,” as the result of hysteria and madness in his -race. Satanism, from of old, has been mainly hysteria. The element of -personal _reclame_ in Byron has faded, and with it fades his reputation -as an earth-shaking poet. Attempts to revive that fame in our day, -attempts to bring us back to “the noble poet,” are respectable, -being based on loyalty to the taste of our great-grandfathers and -grandmothers in all civilized countries. But the efforts are futile. -“Byron,” says Mr. Saintsbury, “seems to me a poet distinctly of the -second class, and not even of the best kind of second, inasmuch as -his greatness is chiefly derived from a sort of parody, a sort of -imitation of the qualities of the first. His verse is to the greatest -poetry what melodrama is to tragedy, what plaster is to marble, what -pinchbeck is to gold.” Such, however unpopular they may be, are my own -candid sentiments, for though from childhood I could and did read all -our great poets with pleasure, it was not with the kind of pleasure -which Byron in his satire and his declamation could occasionally give -me. He is monotonous, he is rhetorical, his versification is often -incredibly bad, and he is more obscure, mainly by dint of hurry, bad -printing, and bad grammar, than Mr. Browning. Thus Byron leaves us -impressed as with a vast, even volcanic, yet dandified force, untrained -and often misdirected. Either by nature, or in reaction, he professed -sympathy with the Augustan school of Queen Anne’s reign, and sided with -Pope in the long quarrel as to whether Pope is a poet. - -Even the modern opponents of Byron must recognize in him qualities -which won the admiration and affection of Scott and Shelley. In Shelley -we had a true child of the revolution, the _Aufklarung_, and the later -eighteenth century. His boyhood trifled with chemical science (probably -not then popular with the human boy); his adolescence was given to -converting school-girls into “dear little atheists.” His social ideas, -like those of some advanced moderns, aimed at the absolute destruction -of the family; and the moral of _Laon and Cythna_ went far behind the -morals of the most backward savages, who make incest a capital offence. -Shelley, a boy all his life, was more boyishly devoted to destruction -than even the newest writers on the relations of the sexes. In “making -all things new” both he and they are, in fact, relapsing on a condition -of society which, if it ever existed, is so old that it may be called -“pre-human,” and is contrary to nature, as far as we can study human -nature in the least developed of tribes. His ideas conducted Shelley -to the tragedy and farce of his career: his desertion of one young -wife, followed by her suicide, and his marriage with another, in entire -opposition to his own opinions. In literature he began at school -with a devout following of Mrs. Radcliffe; while, in _Queen Mab_ and -_Alastor_, vigorous but vague and misty _Childe Harold_, wandering in -No Man’s Land, he first displayed his originality in poetical form. -His personal character being noble and generous in the highest degree, -his sympathy with the poor and the oppressed being a true passion, -Shelley’s errors arose from the fixed idea that almost every human -ordinance must, being old, be necessarily bad. He would recognize that -there is, after all, something right in the sixth commandment, but -did not draw the inference that a gleam of reason might also be found -in most of the rest of the Decalogue. The state of society then, as -always, provoked revolt, but the state of society was grievous, not -because its moral laws were bad, but because its laws were not obeyed. -Shelley had no turn for narrative, and, in such poems as _The Revolt -of Islam_, it is the splendid meteoric genius, the unexcelled music -that captivate. In lyrics he was probably the most original force since -the Elizabethan age: his verse is a singing and soaring flame. In -_Adonis_ his righteous indignation carries him forward like an angel -with a sword of fire; and _The Witch of Atlas_ is a triumph in a new -“fairy way of writing.” His is the Muse of clouds and stars, of sea and -tempest, of all the aspects, and, in appearance, most capricious forces -of the world, yet his is also the Muse of flowers and peaceful woods, -of dejection and of delight. What the born rebel, Milton, might have -been without the foundation and trammels of Puritanism, that Shelley -was, though his wild and tender lyric note was even more exquisite than -Milton’s. Neither was, in the full sense, human, for both were without -humor, as may be seen in their humorous pieces. - -Keats, but three years younger than Shelley (1795), was more a true -child of the nineteenth century. His social ideas, though of course -liberal, were more in abeyance; he was more exclusively an artist; and -his art was more controlled by the revived Elizabethanism of Leigh Hunt -(1784). That singular man, who had so much taste, and so much of it -bad; so intense a theory of social benevolence, and so keen a belief -that it was more blessed to receive than to give, “owed little” (in the -way of literature) “to any but the old masters, and many contemporaries -owed not a little to him.” Few owed more, for good and bad, than -Keats. Virgil he had found out for himself, and had translated when a -schoolboy. Spenser, too, he found for himself, and Greece he discovered -afresh in Lemprière’s _Dictionary_ and in Chapman’s _Homer_. But this -superficial euphuism and elaborate verbal quaintness he partly derived -at second hand from Leigh Hunt. - -That something in Leigh Hunt which suggested Harold Skimpole to -Dickens, and his violent conception of _The Cockney School_ to -Lockhart, was not hidden from Keats, and inspired him with some bitter -words. It was what he derived from Hunt that gave occasion to Keats’s -assailants, who were more of political than of literary partisans. -Lockhart, or Wilson, or both, with the _Quarterly_ reviewer, in -attacking _Endymion_ were attacking, they thought, a member of an -affected, effeminate, and radical coterie. Keats himself, maturing -with the suddenness of genius, looked on _Endymion_ as thoroughly -immature. But killed, or even discouraged, by his critics he was -not, and on a page of a copy of _Lamia_ where his publishers spoke -of his discouragment he wrote “This is a lie.” (The copy is in the -possession of Canon Ainger.) Keats, like Burns, whom he so intensely -admired and so unerringly judged as a man and a poet, was his own -best critic. Despite his boyish lusciousness of taste, and the -fever of letters written when dying, there was no manlier or more -chivalrous soul in England than that of the poet of the odes to the -nightingale and to autumn. Keats at his best attained sheer perfection -of language, of emotion, and of thought. As he advised Shelley to be, -he was not content with less than filling all the rifts with pure -gold. “Untaught,” like the minstrel of Odysseus, he combined a Greek -clarity and largeness of manner with that romance which Greece does not -lack, but which he possessed in a degree more conspicuous, at least -to readers who are not Greeks. Though he has not been and cannot be -imitated, he has supplied to Tennyson and the best moderns a standard -and an ideal. That the Shakespearian copiousness of humanity and humor -and dramatic genius would ever have been his nothing indicates, but -what writer of the nineteenth century, except Scott, has possessed -a large share of these qualities? In poetry, not one, and it was in -prose that Scott wore his fragment of the cloak of Shakespeare. For the -century has not produced, in England or America, a great dramatic poet. -It is to fiction, to Scott, Dickens, Thackeray, Stevenson, Meredith, -Hawthorne, George Eliot, that we must look for the humor and humanity -and passion which, earlier, found their vehicle in the drama. - -Ours is a reading rather than a seeing century, though this does not -explain the reason which made the great novelists incapable of writing -for the stage. Of the other poets of the early century, Campbell, -Rogers, Moore, Landor, Hogg, and the ladies, Mrs. Hemans, and L. E. L., -and Beddoes, space does not permit us to treat. Landor’s audience -has not increased; Rogers has none; Campbell is best remembered for -war songs which I fear are overrated; Hogg, despite some exquisite -passages in _Kilmeny_, and some admirable songs, suffers from his -countrymen’s exclusive devotion to Robbie Burns. When Scott turned to -fiction (1814) the current of popular taste at once changed into that -channel. Byron had still his vogue; Keats, Shelley, and Coleridge then -sang only to the few initiated; Wordsworth was past his prime; and -with the general public nothing was really popular but fiction, and -that fiction was Scott’s. Miss Austen is probably much more widely -appreciated to-day than when she died, little noted by the world, in -1817. A criticism of Scott’s novels, which first made fiction supreme -and far above poetry in the estimation of “the reading public,” cannot -be attempted in this place. The best estimate of Scott, if far from -most favorable, is his own, in the introduction to _The Fortunes of -Nigel_. His faults of prolixity, haste, indifference to delicacy of -style, and even to grammar; his “big bow-wow” vein (as he calls it); -the stilted theatrical language of his Catherine Glovers and Helen -Macgregors—all these defects, with his hasty denouéments (as of -Shakespeare and Molière), are patent, are confessed, and probably deter -many readers from making profit of his humor, his rich knowledge of and -sympathy with all human nature, his infrequent but exquisite touches of -passion, his tragedy and comedy. None the less, Scott is the main stock -of the fiction of the century. Men may now have more minute knowledge, -though so wide a knowledge has none; may have more wit, if less humor; -may eagerly hunt for all that Scott loathed and avoided in our animal -nature; may, indeed must, practise a more careful style, but all the -novelists are, willy-nilly, children of Scott and Miss Austen. Dickens, -indeed, owed more to Smollett (one of Scott’s chief favorites), -Thackeray owed more to Fielding, the “Kailyard School” owed more to -Galt (1779—1839). But Scott is “the father of the rest,” above all, -of Dumas; and Miss Austen is the mother. Lord Lytton and Mr. Disraeli -had, especially at first, a tinge of Byronism, later developing on -their own lines: Mr. Disraeli’s political; Lord Lytton’s multifarious, -including the line of modern mysticism, now often worked. Scott lived -to be interested in Lytton, and might have seen (though probably he did -not see them) the little-noted beginnings of Browning and Tennyson, -about 1830. - -What he did see, and admire, was the performance of Cooper, with whom -actual and living American fiction may perhaps be said to take its -rise. In England, Cooper was regarded as the Scott of America; and it -is to be regretted that Lockhart did not excise a splenetic personal -reference to Cooper in Sir Walter’s _Journal_. He was old, tired, and -fatigued with the pressure of society in Paris when he wrote. Cooper -had the genius to appropriate the unworked fields of American patriotic -seafaring life, and of the manners of the Red Man; he is “Cooper of the -wood and wave.” Eagerly were his works read by boys, when Thackeray was -a boy, and when I was a boy. Never shall his readers forget the “Long -Carabine,” to whom Thackeray was devoted, and Uncas, and Chingachgook. - - “Still we love the Delaware, - And still we hate the Mingos.” - -Doubtless Cooper’s Indians are not “realistically” treated, though -there is infinitely more of truth in his dignified hunters and warriors -than people conversant only with the Red Man of to-day are ready to -believe. But Cooper, probably, does not live with the immortality of -his first renowned successor, Hawthorne, who, for secure perfection of -form, is to modern fiction what Keats is to modern poetry. Like Scott, -Hawthorne is the unforced fruit of his ancestry and the society into -which he was born—a Puritan, not a Cavalier artist, with a background -of austere faith and of old superstition, differentiated from that of -the Covenanters by the shadow of deep forests and of struggles with -the Indians and the wild things of the woods. These had passed into -mellow memories, as, for Scott, had passed the age of witches, fairies, -reivers, and claymores. Entirely, in the _Scarlet Letter_, as by way -of hereditary influence in the _House of Seven Gables_, Hawthorne -reproduced what was old, making it poetically enduring. _His Mosses -from an Old Manse_, and other brief tales set the fashion, except by -Poe, long unfollowed, of the _conte_. Neither author has been excelled -in his own portion of this field. Hawthorne’s haunted consciences, -Poe’s treasure tale, his detective stories, and his tales of terror -remain unequalled, though so profusely imitated. This epoch, say from -1830 to 1855, was a kind of classical interspace in the literature of -the century. France, preoccupied by war in the first thirty years of -the age, now awoke to her own famous romantic era, with Hugo, Dumas, -Musset, Gautier, George Sand, Sainte-Beuve, Mérimée—names of the -highest. Germany, to the non-Teutonic world, is, in poetry, represented -by Heine, and, in science, philosophy, philology, and history by a -galaxy of innovators ingenious and industrious. America saw Hawthorne, -Poe, Lowell, Holmes, Whittier, Ticknor, Prescott, Motley, Longfellow, -Bryant, Emerson, in their prime; while England had Carlyle, Tennyson, -Newman, Browning, the Brontës, Kingsley, Thackeray, Dickens, and -Ruskin, all recognized and flourishing. - -We look around and see, as Mr. Stevenson says in a letter, that “the -suns have set,” while we are scarcely conscious of new dawns. Who can -explain, by circumstances of social evolution and historical event, -the rising and the setting of such constellations of genius? It is -not enough to speak of the democratic demand, naturally indifferent -to style, for never was style the object of such anxious research, -except in other ages of euphuism. Encouragement is even overabundant; -“masterpieces” are announced every week, and forgotten every year. It -may be the prejudice of hoary eld, but I must confess that our new -literature does not seem to me to show such promise of permanence as -the literature of 1830–1860 gave, and, so far, has fulfilled. Has -fulfilled in spite of our sneers at the “early Victorian,” which -was not socialistic, or evolutionist and Darwin-ridden, and was -“respectable,” and did avert its eyes from all that most people in -real life don’t care to stare at. This “prudery” was no new thing. The -Greeks, in except some late decadents and in the old comedy, have a -“prudish” literature. The Latin classics are not in the taste of M. -Zola. The age of Chaucer, the age of Elizabeth, were grossly frank, -that of the Restoration was frankly lewd, but we have sought out -many inventions over which Sedley and Rochester would not have cared -to linger. Their grossness was gay; ours is morbidly squalid. Such -things are absent from the work of Hawthorne and Holmes, Longfellow, -Dickens, Thackeray, and the rest. Such things we now treat of, greatly -daring, and somehow our elders appear apt to outlaugh and outlive us as -humorists, novelists, and poets. It is strange. - -Into the merits of that remarkable middle age of the century we cannot -enter in much detail. Tennyson holds unimperilled the throne of the -poet of the time. That his thought is not especially penetrating, -whether he deals with the intricacies of human character, or with the -problems of the universe, may be readily admitted. But I am unaware -that any poet has yet “got the absolute into a corner,” or solved -the problems of the universe. Tennyson, more than people suppose, -was, personally, a mystic, with his own mystic experiences; and his -philosophy was influenced by them. He “followed the Gleam.” Neither -in the _Idylls of the King_ nor in plays, was dramatic rendering -of character his forte. His forte was charm, and music, and the -interpretation of nature. In these he is the equal of the Mantuan, is -the Virgil of the modern world, “golden branch among the shadows.” -Moreover, he has infinite variety: from _Mariana_ to _Fatima_ and -_Rizpah_; from the _Lotos-Eaters_, which “adds a new charm” after the -_Faërie Queene_, to the _Northern Farmer_, from _Ulysses_ to _Crossing -the Bar_. The early _Morte d’Arthur_ is of unsurpassed nobility and -magic; the last poem, _Crossing the Bar_, is no less pre-eminent in -these qualities. Tennyson, in short, had genius; new, as all genius -is new, and no occasional defects of taste or temper can impair the -splendor and richness of his gift to the world, nor the immortality of -his fame. - -His contemporary, Browning, had the misfortune to attract, by his -faults, the people who wish to believe themselves clever, because -they labor at appreciating passages which the poet had made obscure. -Darkness is not depth, nor is obscurity a merit. From his letters it -is plain that Mr. Browning had not the gift of lucid expression; from -his poems it is manifest that he had not, in a high degree, the gift of -verbal music and of charms. His gift of the grotesque, very real and -original, was also his snare. In _Christmas Eve_ and _Easter Day_, with -_Men and Women_, we have the true essence of Browning at his best; we -have his dramatic lyrics, with their amazing abundance of character and -variety of measure. After the first fascinating volume _The Ring and -the Book_ became monotonous. One song in _Paracelsus_, to myself, seems -worth all the dissection of character in the blank verse. There are -many who find a kind of spiritual help in such pieces as _Prospice_. -There are thousands who find in _Men and Women_ a sort of intellectual -enjoyment (or entertainment) which they can derive from no other poet -who ever lived. An energy, life, and sympathy, breaking forth in -fresh, unheard-of ways; vocal in strange, piercing, untried measures: -these are the imperishable qualities of Browning. Look at his rendering -of the Agamemnon: such is his version of life. The poetry of Æschylus -is not there: “_carmina desunt_”; but there is a new, odd, unexpected -rendering of the tragedy. So poignant and broken, sad, glad, grotesque, -and pitiful, was Browning’s rendering of life. He was “ever a fighter”: -no poet is more exempt from whining and despair. Destiny linked him -with Mrs. Browning, whose genius, sincere and original, is apt to be -obscured by palpable faults of manner, emotion, and even rhyme, on -which it is superfluous to dwell. Her merits, and some of her defects, -made Mrs. Browning the most popular of women poets in England, except, -perhaps, Miss Ingelow. Both, in the crowd of accomplished versifiers, -appear as true poets, though both, no doubt, fail to reach the place of -Miss Christina Rossetti, who never can be popular. - -The matter of popularity is full of puzzles and paradoxes. Tennyson -was popular, yet great because he is popular. There was a moment when -popularity without permanence might have been expected for Longfellow. -The excellence of his moral intentions was then more obvious than the -poetry. Such early pieces as _Excelsior_ and _The Psalm of Life_ yield -odd results on analysis. But not much better can be said for the _Queen -of the May_, and for parts of _The Miller’s Daughter_. In these is a -marvellous dexterity in sinking. But sink, and remain sunk, was as -little characteristic of Longfellow as of Tennyson. He was a true poet, -in his lyrics, even in his translations, as well as in _Evangeline_, -and that excellent experiment _Hiawatha_, where the measure of the -Finnish popular poems is applied to the not dissimilar legends of -another woodland race. But Longfellow lacked that undefinable quality -of the rare, the strange, the hitherto unheard yet delightful note -which now and again is heard in the verse of Edgar Poe. He was an -Ishmaelite in literature, his hand against every man’s hand, and -hence seems to be less admired where he was personally known than in -France and England. It is not the famous _Raven_, but such pieces -as _To Helen_, _the Sleeper_, and at most a dozen others which give -Poe his high place in the judgment of his admirers. Not his ideas, -but the beauty of his haunting lines, confers on him the laurel. Of -Bryant, as a rule, and of Whittier almost always, the reverse is the -truth. The acceptability of their ideas, the refined simplicity, not -the natural magic, of their form, are their claims to renown. Except -in a few places, as in such as his _Commemoration Ode_, Mr. Lowell -is better remembered for the wit and vigor of his Biglow poems than -for his serious verse, at least in England; while Emerson’s prose has -precedence here over his poetry. The wisdom of the East and West, -blended with his happy, courageous temper, made Emerson a corrective -Carlyle, while Thoreau is the complement of Emerson. - -Concerning the great Victorian novelists, Thackeray and Dickens, -so much is daily written that remark is superfluous. A master of -observation of all that had rarely been observed, a generous heart, -an original and abundant humorist, the greatest source of mirth -in our century, Dickens appears to wear less well than his rival. -The unapproached merits of Thackeray’s style must preserve him in -literature; his pathos is rare and unforced; his form of humor is as -permanent as that of Fielding, and as successfully matched by his -phrasing. Even his verse, mirthful or melancholy, does not fade, and -has its own place on the borderland of poetry. George Eliot’s fame, -too, must revive the success of her earlier and more humorous novels, -before she became too fond of the Spencerian philosophy, and took -herself too seriously, a natural result of adulation. Charlotte -Brontë, in the same way, has been, as it were, rediscovered amid -a chorus of fresh applauses, and with perhaps rather too curious -investigations. In America, after Hawthorne, Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes -and Mrs. Beecher Stowe were the novelists most generally admired in -England, when Thackeray and Dickens were verging to their decline. It -is, indeed, to be regretted that Dr. Holmes did not write more fiction -when in his prime. His excellent and original _Elsie Venner_, and -_Guardian Angel_, with their humorous pictures of real life and their -thread of phantasy, half mystical, half scientific, border (as often -in the _Poet_ and _Professor at the Breakfast Table_) on the ground of -“psychical research.” Dr. Holmes was not merely, in verse and prose, -an exquisite wit, but a man of rare knowledge, a man of science, and a -sturdy defender of the purity of the language. Mrs. Beecher Stowe, on -the other hand, took the world by storm with a vivid tract in the form -of fiction; a book now not easy to criticise, but which can still move -to laughter and tears. It is my “insular ignorance” which prevents me -from appreciating other American fictions of that age, before the days -of writers still happily living and working: Mark Twain, Bret Harte, -W. D. Howells, Henry James, and scores of others, who, being here -to speak for themselves, shall not be commented upon in this place. -With Mr. Howells, as a critic, I have tried to break lances, while -ready to admit one of his main contentions, that the art of Scott, -Thackeray, Dickens, and others of our fathers would have profited much -by being a finer art, by condensation, by omission, by avoidance of the -superfluous. But that our modern fiction is a greater art, that romance -and story-telling and adventure are obsolete, or ought to be obsolete, -that I can never admit while human nature is human nature. Mankind -will never be content, in fiction, with tales of the psychology of -the ordinary person; ordinary as we are, we desire to be, like Homer’s -Heracles, conversant with great adventures. Mr. Howells perhaps may -think Aristotle a Greek snob when he maintains that tragedy must find -its theme in the sorrows of the god-descended kings. Are not the griefs -of the poor or of the middle classes as poignant? They are; but they -do not involve such heights and depths of fortune, raising or wrecking -whole states, as do the woes “of Thebes, or Atreus’s line.” The fall -of Prince Charles from an hour even of shadowy royalty, from the -leadership of an army, from the wondering admiration of Europe and the -applause of Voltaire into the subject and dependent sot is an example -of modern historical tragedy; in its elevation and its decline more apt -to move “pity and terror” than the circumstance that a journalist has -taken to drink. - -As in the case of America, so in that of England, I cannot enter into -the merits of living novelists in so wide a task as the brief review of -a century. Mr. Meredith, as a veteran of the 60’s, has shown, perhaps, -fully what is the nature of his achievement; he shines as a creator -of character (the highest praise) and as a writer with a thoroughly -original view of the world, as a poet and as a wit. That his manner is -entirely fortunate, and not rather tinged with wilful eccentricities -like those of Browning and Carlyle, can scarcely be disputed. An -accomplished young novelist has admitted to me that his manner is -“catching,” and that he has to struggle against half-conscious efforts -at imitation. Others do not struggle; and most grow older before they -are able to write like themselves, with their own voices. Even Mr. -Stevenson was caught now and then, his own voice being original indeed, -but yet full of memories of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, -and even of the Cameronian writers. To my mind Mr. Stevenson was the -greatest, or, at least, the most enjoyable, of our novelists since -George Eliot, excelling in matter and form, though probably always -prevented by thwarting circumstances from doing himself complete -justice. He practically revived in England the novel historical, now so -abundantly practised, and practised with spirit, by Mr. Stanley Weyman, -Mr. Anthony Hope, Dr. Conan Doyle, Mr. A. E. W. Mason, and a regiment -of followers. The novel scientific, as in the hands of Mr. Wells, and -the novel of adventure, “beyond the bounds of known romanticism,” as in -Mr. Rider Haggard’s works, with the detective novel and the Oriental -and imperialistic romances of Mr. Kipling, prove that man will not be -satisfied with domestic realism alone. I never thought he would! Mr. -Kipling’s astonishing powers of vision, his habit of ruthlessly cutting -the superfluous, and his amazing command of technicalities, help to -account for his world-wide fame. But the greatest of these is vision, -not an acquired result of thought, but a gift of Heaven. The age has -also produced a wealth of novels with a purpose. Would that the authors -could be induced to state their purposes squarely, in undecorative -treatises! But I confess that the treatises would not be read. The -specialism of modern science has also invaded fiction, and some authors -find a county or a parish wide enough for the work of a lifetime. The -district has its dialect, and who can reprove it when spoken by the -creatures of Mr. Barrie and Mr. Crockett? This kind of fiction is the -result of our desire to learn (through novels) about the lives of -all sorts and conditions of men. _Enfin_, the whole scope of mortal -existence is now the _farrage libelli_ of the novelists who range from -prehistoric man to Bethnal Green; from Thrums to Central Africa. There -is not the same eagerness to read history, which James II. regarded as -“more instructive, and quite as amusing.” My heart is here with King -James, and I confess to gaining more entertainment from Carlyle’s -_Frederick the Great_ than from most novels. - -The earlier historians, from Scott to Carlyle, Macaulay and Froude, -placed the human interest in the front rank. They conceived that -history had to do with human beings of passions, caprices, moods, -loves, and hates, dwelling in a world of interesting costumes, arms, -architecture, ideas, and beliefs. Thus Carlyle, with much research, -created his Cromwell or his Frederick, as Scott created his Queen -Mary, his Louis XI., his James VI., or his Cromwell in _Woodstock_, -who is not too remote from Carlyle’s. For these reasons Scott, Froude, -Carlyle, and Macaulay really are “amusing” as well as instructive -historians. When institutions and constitutions had to be described -they were placed in separate compartments, as in the works of Hallam -and Bishop Stubbs. Historians studied manuscripts, of course, but it -was not held that only the unprinted was the valuable, that a new -survey of known matter was absolutely valueless. - -In the end of the century we have history which is not “as interesting -as a novel” (like that of Prescott, Motley, Froude, and Macaulay), but -very far from gay. Novelty of research is, quite justly, insisted upon -(though research is as old as Hemingburgh, and was much advanced by -Gibbon, Carter, Rymer, Walpole, Tytler, and so on) till, by a natural -error, every scrap won from a wilderness of charters is valued beyond -its deserts. The human interest is frowned upon; movements of forces, -political and social, are treated in preference to personal character -and adventure. Meticulous accuracy is insisted upon, till nervous -students are actually afraid to publish. Even Mommsen, greatest of -original students, is regarded as frivolous, even Curtius as “popular” -by the modern school. It is natural to man to run into these excesses -of reaction. Froude is not often accurate, Macaulay has prejudices, -even Mr. Freeman was not sound about Knights’ Fees and about a certain -palisade. Now the public does not care about Knights’ Fees or about -the Manor, much; nor even about the obscure early history of civic -institutions. In fact, even references to authorities frighten away -part of the public, whose timidity I do not applaud. The results of our -frivolity and of the portentous gravity of some modern historians is -that, since Mr. Green, scarcely any writer of history is read except -for examinations. As long as historians declare (often with perfect -truth) that their own works are not literature, but something far more -awful and solemn, namely science, history must be unpopular. But we are -only waiting for a man of genius as accurate as the most meticulous, -and as interesting as the agreeably irresponsible Froude. Of science -I am not to treat, so I am dispensed from remarks on our scientific -modern historians. It is certain that in collecting and printing and -calendaring documents the age in all countries has shown praiseworthy -industry, while Mr. Parkman in America, like our mid-century -historians, was not too scientific to be readable. - -Of theology, except when recommended by the art of a Newman or -a Jowett, nothing is here to be said; though I could cheerfully -say a good deal, especially about Biblical criticism. But that is -science, though scarcely the sort of science which has been defined -as “organized common-sense.” The poetry of the late century in -England boasts the names of Rossetti, William Morris, Matthew Arnold, -and Mr. Swinburne. It is tinged, in the former with mediævalism -derived from the Italians and Chaucer; while in Mr. Swinburne every -conceivable literary influence, from the Greeks to Baudelaire, from -the Elizabethans to Victor Hugo, makes itself abundantly conspicuous. -These poets, younger than Matthew Arnold, are not much influenced by -Wordsworth, though by Shelley Mr. Swinburne was influenced. On the -other hand, Mr. Arnold was a modern, academic, heterodox Wordsworth, -and often a truly delightful poet. - -He stood much aloof from the contemporary literature of his day, and -his letters prove that he was no fervent admirer even of Tennyson -or Browning. His own poetry has been to many, as to myself, full of -delightful passages, whether he wrote of the Oxford country-side, or -of Wordsworth’s hills, of “the shorn and parcelled Oxus,” or of the -moaning sea that Sophocles long ago heard as he heard it on Dover -beach. He was our greatest modern elegiac poet; a master of the Dirge. -Of the living, again, no criticism can be offered; we only note the -names, and real if very various merits, of Mr. Robert Bridges, Mr. -Watson, Mr. Davidson, Mr. Dobson, Mr. Benson, Mr. Thompson, Mr. Henley, -Mr. Gosse, Mr. Stephen Philips, Mrs. Marriott Watson, Mrs. Maynell, -Mr. Kipling, “a nest of singing birds.” It would be impertinent, and -indeed perilous, to “draw invidious distinctions,” as the undergraduate -said about the major and minor prophets: nor is it for this century to -sift the poetic sheep from the goats, who, in an age that reads little -poetry, are greatly guilty of much verse. - -The unassuming and decried art of criticism remains. Essays are of no -one age; there are similar excellences in every good essayist since -Montaigne. We have no Hazlitt, Lamb, or Leigh Hunt, but we had Mr. -Stephenson and Mr. Pater, so unlike in all but conscious interest in -style, and reminiscence of the best models. Indeed, essay writing is -almost an unpractised art, as the public “has no use for it,” any more -than for the letter H on the Sandwich boards. A fairly bad novelist -can live; to an appallingly bad novelist the workhouse unfolds its -awful valves. In literary criticism Mr. Arnold stood alone in his -age, and Mr. Arnold’s literary income, it is known, surprised, when -stated, the Commissioners of Income Tax: not by its affluence. Of -living critics it would be in the highest degree dangerous to say a -word, though many words, both of praise and dispraise, might be said -of a person of reckless character. That (with obvious exceptions) most -critics are men intimately familiar with what is best, from Homer -to Mr. Stephen Philips, few students would venture to aver. That we -(for am I not the least of all critics, and not worthy to be called -a critic?) are entirely devoid of ignorance, personal bias, likes, -dislikes, prejudices, pet aversions, indolence, we are not so blindly -conceited as to maintain. We have been taught by many centuries of -creative geniuses, from Theocritus to the latest protesting popular -novelists, to know our proper place, and we take refuge in “confession -and avoidance.” The new century will not know our names when we pass -where Dennis and where Cibber are, unless Mr. Robert Buchanan writes a -new _Dunciad_. - -The century, even if we are in full decadence (of which we are not -the best judges), has been glorious in literature, and holds its own -well with any in modern history. English itself has passed from the -occasionally stilted Augustan survival, through the novelties of -Macaulay, De Quincey, and Carlyle, and the early decorated of Mr. -Ruskin, into slipshod slang in one extreme, and euphuism in the other. -But the main stream keeps its course, and English may be written with -perfect purity, and with new fluency and variety, by the men for whom -the task is reserved by fate. But what does the century bequeath by way -of intellectual motive? Little but the more or less transformed forces -of the eighteenth century. There is science, but science, happily, is -beginning to be aware that she is not really omniscient. Conceivably -her foot is on the border of a new region, often surmised, never -explored, full of light on the problems of spirit and matter. Hence, -indeed, might come a new force in letters. Again, the social ideas of -1750–1800 may take practical shapes of incalculable momentousness, but -these would not for long be favorable to literature. Or, less probably, -the return on the past may assume practical shape, though this element -of the later eighteenth century may seem, as far as letters go, to be -exhausted. In brief, as I began by saying, the division of literary -periods by measures of time is a cross-division. This peculiarity the -last hundred years possess: that literature now blossoms on a far -wider field. English-speaking America had, indeed, a literature long -before the War of Independence; but it was not a literature for every -reader of to-day. Now, and for long, the States have taken their own -part in history, fiction, poetry, and all other branches of letters. -Germany came back into world literature again just at the ending of the -eighteenth century, after unregarded ages of neglect. Russia and the -Scandinavian North awoke about the same time, and daily widen their -influence, as does Belgium in the sunshine of Maeterlinck. France, of -course, has in all time been in the foremost rank; while to balance -America, Russia, and the North, Italy and Spain have scarcely held -the place which through so many centuries was their own. Such changes -in national literatures resemble the political waxings and wanings -of national fortunes. The English-speaking peoples may have their -eclipse; perhaps it is heralded by a modern comparative deficiency in -humor which, if England and America cease to laugh, will die out of a -profoundly solemn world. - -In the foregoing remarks little has been said about the literature -of the century except among English-speaking peoples. Not being a -Mezzofanti, I am not personally acquainted with the literature of all -languages, and it is a vain thing to speak of books at second hand. -It was not the nineteenth but the eighteenth century that saw Germany -re-enter the field of pure literature, as distinguished from that of -scholarship and science. Since the end of the Middle Ages, with their -poets, German writers had mainly been devoted to theology and classical -criticism. Latin was the language of the learned. Many ascertainable -causes, in the middle and end of the eighteenth century, and doubtless -many causes which cannot be ascertained, awoke again the Teutonic -genius. The victories of Frederick the Great gave Germans patriotism -and confidence in their own tongue. - -The philosophic and social works which preluded to the French -Revolution stirred the German mind and required popular expression. -Thus Kant wrote in his own native speech in reaction against the -sceptical philosophy of David Hume, and Kant became the father of -the long array of German metaphysicians from Hegel and Fichte to -Schopenhauer and Hartmann. Their philosophy “cannot be briefly stated, -especially in French,” as one of them said, but its general effect -has been rather to counteract materialism by making it pretty plain -that human nature is not so simple and easily to be explained as the -Scottish philosophers were apt to suppose. In England, Coleridge gave -an Anglican heart to the new German philosophy, which also influenced -Hamilton, and still affects the philosophical teaching of Oxford. -“It is nonsense, but is it _the right sort_ of nonsense?” asked the -late Professor Sidgwick (a Cambridge man) when struggling with the -examination papers of a Hegelian undergraduate. - -More important as literature were the double influences of return on -the mediæval past and of inspiration by the new political and social -ideas which gave the impulse to the genius of Goethe, Schiller, -Bürger, and others. Goethe began as the child of Rousseau, but as a -child who had read Kant, and drunk deep of the romance of the Middle -Ages. Doubtless his is the greatest name of modern Germany, both as -a student of life, of nature, of history, and of thought. He was the -spiritual parent of Scott, with his _Götz von Berlichingen_, and, -with Richter, of Carlyle. Through himself and his English or Scottish -disciples, Goethe has been the most fertile source of change in the -literature of the nineteenth century. In extreme old age, curious -to say, he gave the first impulse to the study of early religion as -displayed in the obscure rites and beliefs of the Australian natives: -a theme remote enough from his effect on the poetry of Matthew Arnold. -Probably the two parts of his _Faust_ and his _Roman Lyrics_ are the -most popular, and, as literature, the most permanent parts of his work, -with _Werther_, _Wilhelm Meister_, and _Elective Affinities_, in prose. -Schiller, beginning with the boyish romanticism of _The Robbers_, -became a kind of classic in his later dramas. Lessing and Winckelmann -were the most sound and fertile influences in criticism. _The Laocoon_ -remains indispensable. The patriotic lyrists resurrected the national -spirit of the Teutonic race, and Heine, Hebrew by race and half French -in character, combined the characteristics of Lucian, Burns, and -Voltaire. - -Wolf, writing in Latin (and I believe that his work on Homer has never -attained a third edition, and has never been translated into English), -became the parent, for good or evil, of what is called the Higher -Criticism, Lachmann introducing the painfully conjectural tendencies -of that intellectual exercise. Its application to scriptural texts is -notorious, but not precisely as part of literature. Like other European -countries, the Germany of the close of the century is not remarkable -for resplendent genius in poetry or fiction, though novels abound. The -scientific, historical, and scholarly literature is of vast profusion. -In thoroughness and tireless patience, Germany is the teacher of the -world, while in curious contrast to her practical genius is the love -of some of her scholars for baseless conjecture. The “insularity” -with which the English are charged is a matter of reproach by French -scholars against Germany. Some sets of ideas, long familiar in America, -England, and the Latin nations, are only now beginning to reach German -classical scholars. - -To write an account of the changes in French literature during the -century is impossible within moderate space. The revolutionary and -Napoleonic wars were unfavorable to the literary art, and the head -of so great a poet as André Chénier fell under the guillotine. Till -about 1825–1830 the Restoration was accompanied by literature in the -old classic style of Boileau and of the Augustan age, only enlivened -by the romantic if somewhat affected style of that great rhetorician, -Châteaubriand. The year 1830 is the sacred year of French romanticism, -drawing its ideals partly from the German romantic movement, partly -from Scott and Shakespeare, read, of course, only in translations. -Everything was now to be mediæval, Spanish, and passionate: the drama -was to be emancipated from Aristotle, also read in translations. As -far as classicism went the young adventurers had no more Greek than -Shakespeare or Scott. But they had the colossal and Titanic genius -of Hugo, exquisitely sweet, rapid, strange, and versatile in lyric: -potent, if inflated, in the drama and the novel. They had the charming -humor and exquisite taste of Théophile Gautier; the feverish passion -and mastery in verse of Alfred de Musset; the delicate, dreamy, and -wandering spirit of Gérard de Nerval; and the manly, courageous, -humorous, and unwearied vigor, in drama and in fiction, of Alexandre -Dumas. - -This was, indeed, an extraordinary generation, by far the greatest -since that of Corneille, Racine, and Molière. Many others might be -named: the reserved force and incisive irony of Mérimée; the learned -and genial criticism of Sainte-Beuve; the inexhaustible talent of -George Sand, and the mighty Balzac, the maker and founder of the modern -work of introspection. Probably, of all these writers, Dumas and Balzac -have exercised most influence on later fiction in England and America. -Flaubert continued, with painful elaboration, the traditions of Balzac; -from Flaubert, and round him, grew up Daudet and M. Zola, and the -Goncourts. Poetry, after Lamartine, dwindled into the prettinesses of -the Parnasse and the eccentricities, too obviously intentional, of -Baudelaire, Verlaine, and the Symbolistes. Literary art, at the end -of the century, became too self-conscious, too fond of argument about -ideals and methods, the tattle of the studio. Great men have not thus -dissipated their energy; they have done what they could do; they have -not talked about how they did it. What English literature was borrowed -from France, at this time, is more in the nature of words than work. -Criticism has been a _chimaera bombinans in vacuo_, chattering about -realism, naturalism, symbolism, the use of documents, and so forth. -The defects, rather than the merits, of France have been imitated; a -squalid pessimism is easily affected. - -The closing century has seen Russia awake, as the close of the -eighteenth century beheld the literary revival of Germany. Russian -poetry has only reached the learned among us: the novels of -Turguenieff, Dustoiefsky, and Tolstoï are read in translation, with -curiosity, antipathy, enthusiasm, and an absence of that emotion. It -is very long since Terentianus Maurus remarked that the fortunes of -a book depended on the taste of the reader. Often he is favorably -impressed, not by the actual merit of the story as a story or as a work -of literary art, but by its appeal to his private sentiments, as of -socialism, pessimism, toryism, or whatever they may be. Possibly the -vehement admirers of some Russian writers have been thus misguided. -In any case, no qualified critic thinks that his opinion of works -which he cannot read in the original language is of any value. For -this reason I need not offend or please the reader by offering any -uninstructed sentiments about the great Scandinavian dramatist, Dr. -Ibsen; or concerning the work of Signor d’Annunzio, or the plays of -M. Maeterlinck. To pronounce each of these gentlemen a Shakespeare -or Æschylus is not unusual in cultivated circles; it remains for the -new century to ratify or quash the verdict. In the mean time, have -the approving critics taken the precaution of reading Æschylus and -Shakespeare? - - ANDREW LANG. - - - - -ENGINEERING - - -The material prosperity of the last century is due to the co-operation -of three classes of men: the man of science, who lives only for truth -and the discovery of nature’s laws; the inventor, eager to apply these -discoveries to money-making machines and processes, and the engineer, -trained in mathematical investigation and in knowledge of the physical -conditions which govern his profession, which is the mechanical -application of the laws of nature. - -Engineering is sometimes divided into civil, military, and naval -engineering. The term civil engineering, which will be here described, -is often used by writers as covering structural engineering only, but -it has a much wider meaning. - -The logical classification is: statical engineering, including that of -all fixed bodies, and dynamical, covering the movement of all bodies by -the development and application of power. - -Statical engineering can be again subdivided into structural -engineering, or that of railways, highways, bridges, foundations, -tunnels, buildings, etc.; also, into hydraulic engineering, which -governs the application of water to canals, river improvements, -harbors, the supply of water to towns and for irrigation, disposal of -sewage, etc. - -Dynamical engineering can be divided into mechanical engineering, -which covers the construction of all prime motors, the transmission of -power, and the use of machines and machine tools. Closely allied is -electrical engineering, the art of the transformation and transmission -of energy for traction, lighting, telegraphy, telephoning, operating -machinery, and many other uses, such as its electrolytic application to -ores and metals. - -Then we have the combined application of statical, mechanical, and -electrical engineering to what is now called industrial engineering, -or the production of articles useful to man. This may be divided into -agricultural, mining, metallurgical, and chemical engineering. - -Surely this is a vast field, and can only be hastily described in the -sketch which we are about to give. - - -STRUCTURAL ENGINEERING - -This is the oldest of all. We have not been able to surpass the works -of the past in grandeur or durability. The pyramids of Egypt still -stand, and will stand for thousands of years. Roman bridges, aqueducts, -and sewers still perform their duties. Joseph’s canal still irrigates -Lower Egypt. The great wall of China, running for fifteen hundred miles -over mountains and plains, contains one hundred and fifty millions of -cubic yards of materials and is the greatest of artificial works. No -modern building compares in grandeur with St. Peter’s, and the mediæval -cathedrals shame our puny imitations. - -These mighty works were built to show the piety of the Church or to -gratify the pride of kings. Time and money were of no account. All -this has now been changed. Capital controls, and the question of time, -money, and usefulness rules everything. Hence come scientific design -and labor-saving machinery. - -The engineer of our modern works first calculates the stresses on -all their parts, and proportions them accordingly, so that there is -no waste of material. Hand labor has given place to steam machinery. -All parts are interchangeable, so that they can be made and fitted -together in the least possible time, as is seen every day in the -construction of a steel-framed office building. Our workmen receive -much higher wages than in the past, while time and cost have been -diminished. - - -RAILWAYS - -The greatest engineering work of the nineteenth century was the -development of the railway system which has changed the face of the -world. Beginning in 1829 with the locomotive of George Stephenson, it -has extended with such strides that, after seventy years, there are -466,000 miles of railways in the world, of which 190,000 miles are in -the United States. Their cost is estimated at forty thousand millions -of dollars, of which ten thousand millions belong to the United States. - -The rapidity with which railways are built in the United States and -Canada contrasts strongly with what has been done in other countries. -Much has been written of the energy of Russia in building 3000 miles of -Siberian railway in five or six years. In the United States an average -of 6147 miles was completed every year during ten successive years, -and in 1887 there were built 12,982 miles. The physical difficulties -overcome in Siberia are no greater than have been overcome here. - -This rapid construction is due to several causes, the most potent of -which has been the need of extending railways over great distances -with little money. Hence they were built economically, and at first -in not as solid a manner as those of Europe. Steeper gradients, -sharper curves, and lighter rails were used. This rendered necessary -a different kind of rolling-stock suitable to such construction. The -swivelling-truck and equalizing-beam enabled our engines to run safely -on tracks where the rigid European engines would soon have been in the -ditch. - -Our cars were made longer, and by the use of longitudinal framing much -stronger. A great economy came from the use of annealed cast-iron -wheels, with hardened tires, all in one piece, instead of being -built up of spokes, hubs, and tires in separate parts. These wheels -now seldom break, and cost much less than European wheels. As there -are some eleven million car-wheels in use in the United States the -resulting economy is great. - -It was soon seen that longer cars would carry a greater proportion of -paying load, and the more cars that one engine could draw in a train, -the less would be the cost. It was not until the invention by Bessemer -in 1864 of a steel of quality and cost that made it available for rails -that much heavier cars and locomotives could be used. Then came a rapid -increase. As soon as Bessemer rails were made in this country, the cost -fell from $175 per ton to $50, and now to $26. - -Before that time a wooden car weighed sixteen tons, and could carry a -paying load of fifteen tons. The thirty-ton engines of those days could -not draw on a level over thirty cars weighing 900 tons. - -The pressed steel car of to-day weighs no more than the wooden car, -but carries a paying load of fifty tons. The heaviest engines have now -drawn on a level fifty steel cars, weighing 3750 tons. In the one case -the paying load of an engine was 450 tons; now it is 2500 tons. - -Steep grades soon developed a better brake system, and these heavier -trains have led to the invention of the automatic brake worked from -the engine, and also automatic couplers, saving time and many lives. -The capacity of our railways has been greatly increased by the use of -electric block-signals. - -The perfecting of both the railway and its rolling-stock has led to -remarkable results. - -We have no accurate statistics of the early operation of American -railways. In 1867 Poor’s Manual estimated their total freight tonnage -at 75,000,000 and the total freight receipts at $400,000,000. This was -an average rate per ton of $5.33. - -In 1899 Poor gives the total freight tonnage at 975,789,941 tons, and -the freight receipts at $922,436,314, or an average rate per ton of -ninety-five cents. Had the rates of 1867 prevailed, the additional -yearly cost to the public would have been $4,275,000,000, or sufficient -to replace the whole railway system in two and a half years. - -This is an illustration only, but a very striking one. Everybody knows -that such high rates of freight as those of 1867 would have checked -traffic. This much can surely be said: the reduction in cost of -operating our railways, and the consequent fall in freight rates, have -been potent factors in enabling the United States to send abroad last -year $1,456,000,000 worth of exports and flood the world with our food -and manufactured products. - - -BRIDGE BUILDING - -In early days the building of a bridge was a matter of great -ceremony, and it was consecrated to protect it from evil spirits. Its -construction was controlled by priests, as the title of the Pope of -Rome, “Pontifex Maximus,” indicates. - -Railways changed all this. Instead of the picturesque stone bridge, -whose long line of low arches harmonized with the landscape, there came -the straight girder or high truss, ugly indeed, but quickly built, and -costing much less. - -Bridge construction has made greater progress in the United States than -abroad. The heavy trains that we have described called for stronger -bridges. The large American rolling-stock is not used in England, and -but little on the continent of Europe, as the width of tunnels and -other obstacles will not allow of it. It is said that there is an -average of one bridge for every three miles of railway in the United -States, making 63,000 bridges, most of which have been replaced by new -and stronger ones during the last twenty years. - -This demand has brought into existence many bridge-building companies, -some of whom make the whole bridge, from the ore to the finished -product. - -Before the advent of railways, highway bridges in America were made -of wood, and called trusses. Few of them existed before railways. -The large rivers and estuaries were crossed in horse-boats, a trip -more dangerous than an Atlantic voyage now is. A few smaller rivers -had wooden truss bridges. Although originally invented by Leonardo -da Vinci, in the sixteenth century, they were reinvented by American -carpenters. Some of Burr’s bridges are still standing after more -than one hundred years’ use. This shows what wood can do when not -overstrained and protected from weather and fire. - -The coming of railways required a stronger type of bridge to carry -concentrated loads, and the Howe truss, with vertical iron rods, was -invented, capable of 150-foot spans. - -About 1868 iron bridges began to take the place of wooden bridges. -Die-forged eyebars and pin connections allowed of longer panels and -longer spans. One of the first long-span bridges was a single-track -railway bridge of 400-foot span over the Ohio at Cincinnati, which was -considered to be a great achievement in 1870. - -The Kinzua viaduct, 310 feet high and over half a mile long, belongs to -this era. It is the type of the numerous high viaducts now so common. - -About 1885 a new material was given to engineers, having greater -strength and tenacity than iron, and commercially available from its -low cost. This is basic steel. After many experiments, the proper -proportions of carbon, phosphorus, sulphur, and manganese were -ascertained, and uniformity resulted. The open-hearth process is now -generally used. This new chemical metal, for such it is, is fifty per -cent. stronger than iron, and can be tied in a knot when cold. - -The effect of improved devices and the use of steel is shown by the -weights of the 400-foot Ohio River iron bridge, built in 1870, and a -bridge at the same place, built in 1886. - -The bridge of 1870 was of iron, had panels twelve feet long, and its -height was forty-five feet, and span 400 feet. - -The bridge of 1886 was of steel, had panels thirty feet long, and its -height was eighty feet. Its span was 550 feet. The weights of the two -were nearly alike. - -The cantilever design, which is a revival of a very ancient type, -came into use. The great Forth Bridge, in Scotland, 1600-foot span, -is of this style, as are the 500-foot spans at Poughkeepsie, and now -a new one is being designed to cross the St. Lawrence near Quebec, of -1800-foot span. - -This is probably near the economic limit of cantilever construction, -but the suspension bridge can be extended much farther, as it carries -no dead weight of compression members. - -The Niagara Suspension Bridge, of 810-foot span, built by Roebling, in -1852, and the Brooklyn Bridge, of 1600 feet, built by Roebling and his -son, twenty years after, marked a wonderful advance in bridge design. - -Thirty years later, when a new bridge of 1600 feet was wanted to -cross another part of the East River at New York, the same lines of -construction were followed, and they will be followed in the 2700-foot -span, designed to cross the North River some time in the present -century. The only radical advance is the use of a better steel than -could be had in earlier days. - -Steel-arched bridges are now scientifically designed. Such are the new -Niagara Bridge, of 840-foot span, and the Alexandra Bridge at Paris. - -It is curious to see how little is said about these beautiful bridges, -which the public takes as a matter of course. If they had been built -fifty years ago, their engineers would have received the same praise -as Robert Stephenson or Roebling, and justly so, as they would have -been men of exceptional genius. When these bridges were built, in 1898, -the path had been made so clear by mathematical investigation and the -command of a better steel, that the task seemed easy. - -That which marks more clearly than anything else the great advance -in American bridge building, during the last forty years, is the -reconstruction of the famous Victoria Bridge, over the St. Lawrence, -above Montreal. This bridge was designed by Robert Stephenson, and the -stone piers are a monument to his engineering skill. For forty winters -they have resisted the great fields of ice borne by a rapid current. -Their dimensions were so liberal that the new bridge was put upon them, -although four times as wide as the old one. - -The superstructure was originally made of plate-iron tubes, reinforced -by tees and angles, similar to Stephenson’s Menai Straits Bridge. There -are twenty-two spans of 240 feet each, and a central one of 330 feet. -Perhaps these tubes were the best that could be had at the time, but -they had outlived their usefulness. Their interiors had become greatly -corroded by the confined gases from the engines and the drippings from -the chemicals used in cold-storage cars. Their height was insufficient -for modern large cars, and the confined smoke made them so dark that -the number of trains was greatly limited. - -It was decided to build a new bridge of open-work construction and of -open-hearth steel. This was done, and the comparison is as follows: -Old bridge, sixteen feet wide, single track, live load of one ton per -foot; new bridge, sixty-seven feet wide, two railway tracks and two -carriage-ways, live load five tons per foot. - -The old iron tubes weighed 10,000 tons, cost $2,713,000, and took two -seasons to erect. The new truss bridge weighs 22,000 tons, has cost -between $1,300,000 and $1,400,000, and the time of construction was one -year. - -During his experience the writer has seen the rolling-load of bridges -increase from 2000 to 4000 pounds per lineal foot of track, with an -extra allowance for concentrated loads. - -The modern high office building is an interesting example of the -evolution of a high-viaduct pier. Such a pier of the required -dimensions, strengthened by more columns strong enough to carry many -floors, is the skeleton frame. Enclose the sides with brick, stone, or -terra-cotta, add windows, and doors, and elevators, and it is complete. - -Fortunately for the stability of these high buildings, the effect of -wind pressures had been studied in this country in the designs of the -Kinzua, Pecos, and other high viaducts. - -All this had been thoroughly worked out and known to our engineers -before the fall of the Tay Bridge in Scotland. That disastrous event -led to very careful experiments on wind pressures by Sir Benjamin -Baker, the very eminent engineer of the Forth Bridge. His experiments -showed that a wind gauge of 300 square feet area showed a maximum -pressure of thirty-five pounds per square foot, while a small one of -one foot and a half square area registered gusts of forty-one pounds -per square foot. - -The modern elevated railway of cities is simply a very long railway -viaduct. Some idea may be gained of the life of a modern riveted-iron -structure from the experience of the Manhattan Elevated Railway of New -York. These roads were built in 1878–79 to carry uniform loads of 1600 -pounds per lineal foot, except Second Avenue, which was made to carry -2000. The stresses were below 10,000 pounds per square inch. - -These viaducts have carried in twenty-two years over 25,000,000 trains, -weighing over 3,000,000,000 tons, at a maximum speed of twenty-five -miles an hour, and are still in good order. - -Bridge engineers of the present day are free from the difficulties -which confronted the early designers of iron bridges. The mathematics -of bridge design was understood in 1870, but the proportioning of -details had to be worked out individually. Every new span was a new -problem. Now the engineer tells his draughtsman to design a span of a -given length, height, and width, and to carry such a load. By the light -of experience he does this at once. - -Connections have become standardized so that the duplication of parts -can be carried to its fullest extent. - -Machine tools are used to make every part of a bridge, and power -riveters to fasten them together. Great accuracy can now be had, and -the sizes of parts have increased in a remarkable degree. - -We have now great bridge companies, which are so completely equipped -with appliances for both shop drawings and construction that the old -joke becomes almost true that they can make bridges and sell them by -the mile. - -All improvements of design are now public property. All that the bridge -companies do is done in the fierce light of competition. Mistakes mean -ruin, and the fittest only survives. - -Having such powerful aids, the American bridge engineer of to-day has -advantages over his predecessors and over his European brethren, where -the American system has not yet been adopted. - -The American system gives the greatest possible rapidity of erection of -the bridge on its piers. A span of 518 feet, weighing 1000 tons, was -erected at Cairo on the Mississippi in six days. The parts were not -assembled until they were put upon the false works. European engineers -have sometimes ordered a bridge to be riveted together complete in the -maker’s yard, and then taken apart. - -The adoption of American work in such bridges as the Atbara in South -Africa, the Gokteik viaduct in Burmah, 320 feet high, and others, was -due to low cost, quick delivery and erection, as well as excellence of -material and construction. - - -FOUNDATIONS, ETC. - -Bridges must have foundations for their piers. Up to the middle of the -nineteenth century engineers knew no better way of making them than -by laying bare the bed of the river by a pumped-out cofferdam, or by -driving piles into the sand, as Julius Cæsar did. About the middle of -the century, M. Triger, a French engineer, conceived the first plan of -a pneumatic foundation, which led to the present system of compressing -air by pumping it into an inverted box, called a caisson, with air -locks on top to enable men and materials to go in and out. After the -soft materials were removed, and the caisson sunk by its own weight to -the proper depth, it was filled with concrete. The limit of depth is -that in which men can work in compressed air without injury, and this -is not much over one hundred feet. - -The foundations of the Brooklyn and St. Louis bridges were put down in -this manner. - -In the construction of the Poughkeepsie bridge over the Hudson in -1887–88, it became necessary to go down 135 feet below tide-level -before hard bottom was reached. Another process was invented to take -the place of compressed air. Timber caissons were built, having double -sides, and the spaces between them filled with stone to give weight. -Their tops were left open and the American single-bucket dredge was -used. This bucket was lowered and lifted by a very long wire rope -worked by the engine, and with it the soft material was removed. By -moving this bucket to different parts of the caisson its sinking was -perfectly controlled, and the caisson finally placed in its exact -position, and perfectly vertical. The internal space was then filled -with concrete laid under water by the same bucket, and levelled by -divers when necessary. - -While this work was going on, the government of New South Wales, in -Australia, called for both designs and tenders for a bridge over an -estuary of the sea called Hawkesbury. The conditions were the same as -at Poughkeepsie, except that the soft mud reached to a depth of 160 -feet below tide-level. - -The designs of the engineers of the Poughkeepsie bridge were accepted, -and the same method of sinking open caissons (in this case made of -iron) was carried out with perfect success. - -The erection of this bridge involved another difficult problem. The mud -was too soft and deep for piles and staging, and the cantilever system -in this site would have increased the cost. - -A staging was built on a large pontoon at the shore, and the span -erected upon it. The whole was then towed out to the bridge site at -high tide. As the tide fell, the pontoon was lowered and the steel -girder was placed gently on its piers. The whole operation was -completed within six hours. The other five spans were placed in the -same manner. - -The same system was followed afterwards by the engineer of the Canadian -Pacific Railway in placing the spans of a bridge over the St. Lawrence, -in a very rapid current. It is now used in replacing old spans by new -ones, as it interrupts traffic for the least possible time. - -The solution of the problems presented at Hawkesbury gave the second -introduction of American engineers to bridge building outside of -America. The first was in 1786, when an American carpenter or -shipwright built a bridge over Charles River at Boston, 1470 feet long -by forty-six feet wide. This bridge was of wood supported on piles. His -work gained for him such renown that he was called to Ireland and built -a similar bridge at Belfast. - -Tunnelling by compressed air is a horizontal application of -compressed-air foundations. The earth is supported by an iron tube, -which is added to in rings, which are pushed forward by hydraulic jacks. - -A tunnel is now being made under an arm of the sea between Boston and -East Boston, some 1400 feet long and sixty-five feet below tide. The -interior lining of iron tubing is not used. The tunnel is built of -concrete, reinforced by steel rods. This will effect a considerable -economy. Success in modern engineering means doing a thing in the most -economical way consistent with safety. - -The Saint Clair tunnel, which carries the Grand Trunk Railway of Canada -under the outlet of Lake Huron, is a successful example of such work. -Had the North River tunnel, at New York, been designed on equally -scientific principles, it would probably have been finished, which now -seems problematical. - -The construction of rapid-transit railways in cities is another branch -of engineering, covering structural, mechanical, and electrical -engineering. Some of these railways are elevated, and are merely -railway viaducts, but the favorite type now is that of subways. There -are two kinds, those near the surface, like the District railways of -London, the subways in Paris, Berlin, and Boston, and that now building -in New York. The South London and Central London, and other London -projects, are tubes sunk fifty to eighty feet below the surface and -requiring elevators for access. These are made on a plan devised by -Greathead, and consist of cast-iron tubes pushed forward by hydraulic -rams, and having the space outside of the tube filled with liquid -cement pumped into place. - -The construction of the Boston subway was difficult on account of the -small width of the streets, their great traffic, and the necessity of -underpinning the foundations of buildings. All of this was successfully -done without disturbing the traffic for a single day, and reflects -great credit on the engineer. Owing to the great width of New York -streets, the problem is simpler in that respect, but requires skill in -design and organization to complete the work in a short time. Although -many times as long as the Boston subway, it will be built in nearly the -same time. The design, where in earth, may be compared to that of a -steel office building twenty miles long, laid flat on one of its sides. -The reduplication of parts saves time and labor, and is the key to the -anticipated rapid progress. Near the surface this subway is built in -open excavation, and tunnelling is confined to rock. - -The construction of power-houses for developing energy from coal and -from falling water requires much structural besides electrical and -mechanical engineering ability. The Niagara power-house is intended to -develop 100,000 horse-power; that at the Sault Ste. Marie as much; that -on the St. Lawrence, at Massena, 70,000 horse-power. These are huge -works, requiring tunnels, rock-cut chambers, and masonry and concrete -in walls and dams. They cover large extents of territory. - -The contrast in size of the coal-using power-houses is interesting. -The new power-house now building by the Manhattan Elevated Railway, -in New York, develops in the small space of 200 by 400 feet 100,000 -horse-power, or as much power as that utilized at Niagara Falls. - -One of the most useful materials which modern engineers now make use -of is concrete, which can be put into confined spaces and laid under -water. It costs less than masonry, while as strong. This is the revival -of the use of a material used by the Romans. The writer was once -allowed to climb a ladder and look at the construction of a dome of the -Pantheon, at Rome. He found it a monolithic mass of concrete, and hence -without thrust. It is a better piece of engineering construction than -the dome of St. Peter’s, built fifteen hundred years later. The dome of -Columbia College Library, in New York, is built of concrete. - -Concrete is a mixture of broken stone or gravel, sand, and Portland -cement. Its virtue depends upon the uniform good quality of the cement. -The use of the rotary kiln, which exposes all the contained material to -a uniform and constant intense heat, has revolutionized the manufacture -of Portland cement. The engineer can now depend upon its uniformity of -strength. - -Wheels, axles, bridges, and rails have all been strengthened to carry -their increased loads; but, strange to say, the splices which hold in -place the ends of the rails, and which are really short-span bridges, -are now the weakest part of a railway. The angle-bar splice has but -one-third of the strength of the rail, and its strength cannot be -increased, owing to its want of depth. Joints go down under every -passing wheel, and the ends of the rails wear out long before the rest. - -This is not an insignificant detail. It has been estimated by the -officers of one of the trunk lines that a splice of proper design -and strength would save yearly enough in track labor (most of which -is expended in tamping up low joints) to buy all the new rails and -fastenings required in some time. It would save much more than that -in the wear of rolling-stock. A perfect joint would be an economic -device next in value to the Bessemer steel rail. Here is a place for -scientific and practical skill. - - -HYDRAULIC ENGINEERING - -This is one of the oldest branches of engineering, and was developed -before the last century. The irrigation works of Asia, Africa, Spain, -Italy, the Roman aqueducts, and the canals of Europe, are examples. -Hydraulic works cannot be constructed in ignorance of the laws which -govern the flow of water. The action of water is relentless, as ruined -canals, obstructed rivers, and washed-out dams testify. - -The principal additions of the nineteenth century to hydraulic -engineering are the collection of larger statistics of the flow of -water in pipes and channels, of rainfall, run-off, and available -supply. It is now known that the germs of disease can be retained by -ordinary sand filters, and it is now an established fact that pure -drinking water and proper drainage are a sure preventive of typhoid and -similar fevers. Very foul water can be made potable. Experiments show -that the water of the Schuylkill River at Philadelphia, which contains -400,000 germs in the space of less than a cubic inch, was so much -purified by filtering that only sixty remained. This is a discovery -of sanitary science, but the application of it is through structural -engineering, which designs and executes the filter beds with great -economy. - -The removal of sewage, after having been done by the Etruscans -before the foundation of Rome, became a lost art during the dirty -Dark Ages, when filth and piety were deemed to be connected in some -mysterious way. It was reserved for good John Wesley to point out that -“Cleanliness is next to godliness.” Now sewage works are as common as -those for water supply. Some of them have been of great size and cost. -Such are the drainage works of London, Paris, Berlin, Boston, Chicago, -and New Orleans. A very difficult work was the drainage of the City of -Mexico, which is in a valley surrounded by mountains, and elevated only -four to five feet above a lake having no outlet. Attempts to drain the -lake had been made in vain for six hundred years. It has lately been -accomplished by a tunnel six miles long through the mountains, and a -canal of over thirty miles, the whole work costing some $20,000,000. - -The drainage of Chicago by locks and canal into the Illinois River has -cost some $35,000,000, and is well worth its cost. - -Scientific research has been applied to the designing of high masonry -and concrete dams, and we know now that no well-designed dam on a good -foundation should fail. The dams now building across the Nile by order -of the British government will create the largest artificial lakes -in the world. The water thus stored will be of inestimable value in -irrigating the crops of Lower Egypt. Their cost, although great, will -not exceed the sums spent by the lavish Khedive Ismail on useless -palaces, now falling to decay. - -The Suez Canal is one of the largest hydraulic works of the last -century, and is a notable instance of the displacement of hand labor -by the use of machinery. Ismail began by impressing a large part of -the peasant population of Egypt, just as Rameses had done over 3000 -years before. These unfortunate people were set to dig the sand with -rude hoes, and carry it away in baskets on their heads. They died -by thousands for want of water and proper food. At last the French -engineers persuaded the Khedive to let them introduce steam dredging -machinery. A light railway was laid to supply provisions, and a small -ditch dug to bring pure water. The number of men employed fell to -one-fourth. Machinery did the rest. But for this the canal would never -have been finished. - -The Panama Canal now uses the best modern machinery, and the Nicaragua -Canal, if built, will apply still better methods, developed on the -Chicago drainage canal, where material was handled at a less cost than -has ever been done before. - -Russia is better supplied with internal waterways than any other -country. Her rivers rise near each other, and have long been connected -by canals. It is stated that she has over 60,000 miles of internal -navigation, and is now preparing the construction of canals to connect -the Caspian with the Baltic Sea. - -The Erie Canal was one of very small cost, but its influence has been -surpassed by none. The “winning of the West” was hastened many years -by the construction of this work in the first quarter of the century. -Two horses were just able to draw a ton of goods at the speed of two -miles an hour over the wretched roads of those days. When the canal -was made these two horses could draw a boat carrying 150 tons four -miles an hour. Mud, or, in other words, friction, is the great enemy -of civilization, and canals were the first things to diminish it, and -after that railways. - -The Erie Canal was made by engineers, but it had to make its own -engineers first, as there were none available in this country at that -time. These self-taught men, some of them land surveyors and others -lawyers, showed themselves the equals of the Englishmen Brindley and -Smeaton, when they located a water route through the wilderness, having -a uniform descent from Lake Erie to the Hudson, and which would have -been so built if there had been enough money. - -The question now is whether to enlarge the capacity of this canal by -enlarging its prism and locks, or to increase speed and move more boats -in a season by electrical appliances. The last method seems more in -line with those of the present day. - -There should be a waterway from the Hudson to Lake Erie large enough -for vessels able to navigate the lakes and the ocean. A draft of -twenty-one feet can be had at a cost estimated at $200,000,000. - -The deepening of the Chicago drainage canal to the Mississippi River, -and the deepening of the Mississippi itself to the Gulf of Mexico, is a -logical sequence of the first project. The Nicaragua Canal would then -form one part of a great line of navigation, by which the products -of the interior of the continent could reach either the Atlantic or -Pacific Ocean. - -The cost would be small compared with the resulting benefits, and some -day this navigation will be built by the government of the United -States. - -The deepening of the Southwest Pass of the Mississippi River from six -to thirty feet by James B. Eads was a great engineering achievement. It -was the first application of the jetty system on a large scale. This is -merely confining the flow of a river, and thus increasing its velocity -so that it secures a deeper channel for itself. - -The improvement of harbors follows closely the increased size of ocean -and lake vessels. The approach to New York harbor is now being deepened -to forty feet, a thing impossible to be done without the largest -application of steam machinery in a suction dredge boat. - -The great increase of urban population, due to steam and electric -railways, has made works of water supply and drainage necessary -everywhere. Some of these are on a very grand scale. An illustration of -this is the Croton Aqueduct of New York as it now is, and as it will be -hereafter. - -This work was thought by its designers to be on a scale large enough -to last for all time. It is now less than sixty years old, and the -population of New York will soon be too large to be supplied by it. - -It is able to supply 250,000,000 to 300,000,000 gallons daily, and its -cost, when the Cornell dam and Jerome Park reservoir are finished, will -be a little over $92,000,000. - -It is now suggested to store water in the Adirondack Mountains, 203 -miles away, by dams built at the outlet of ten or twelve lakes. -This will equalize the flow of the Hudson River so as to give -3,000,000,000 to 4,000,000,000 gallons daily. It is then proposed to -pump 1,000,000,000 gallons daily from the Hudson River at Poughkeepsie, -sixty miles away, to a height sufficient to supply the city by gravity -through an aqueduct. This water would be filtered at Poughkeepsie, and -we now know that all impurities can be removed. - -If this scheme is carried out, the total supply will be about -1,300,000,000 gallons daily, or enough for a population of from -12,000,000 to 13,000,000 persons. By putting in more pumps, -filter-beds, and conduits, this supply can be increased forty per -cent., or to 1,800,000,000 gallons daily. This water would fill every -day a lake one mile square by ten feet deep. This is a fair example -of the scale of the engineering works of the nineteenth and twentieth -centuries. - -By the application of modern labor-saving machinery, the cost of this -work can be so far controlled that the cost to the city of New York per -1,000,000 gallons would be no greater than that of the present Croton -supply. - -All works of hydraulic engineers depend on water. But what will happen -if the water all dries up? India, China, Spain, Turkey, and Syria have -suffered from droughts, caused clearly by the destruction of their -forests. The demand for paper to print books and newspapers upon, and -for other purposes, is fast converting our forests into pulp. We cannot -even say, “After us the deluge,” for it will seldom rain in those evil -days. When the rains do come, the sponge-like vegetation of the forests -being gone, the streams will be torrents at one time of the year and -dried up during the rest, as we now see in the arid regions of the West. - - -MECHANICAL ENGINEERING - -This is employed in all dynamical engineering. It covers the designs -of prime motors of all sorts, steam, gas, and gasoline reciprocating -engines; also steam and water turbines, wind-mills, and wave-motors. - -It comprises all means of transmitting power, as by shafting, ropes, -pneumatic pressure, and compressed air, all of which seem likely to be -superseded by electricity. - -It covers the construction of machine tools and machinery of all kinds. -It enters into all the processes of structural, hydraulic, electrical, -and industrial engineering. The special improvements are: The almost -universal use of rotary motion, and of the reduplication of parts. - -The steam-engine is a machine of reciprocating, converted into rotary, -motion by the crank. The progress of mechanical engineering during the -nineteenth century is measured by the improvements of the steam-engine, -principally in the direction of saving fuel, by the invention of -internal combustion or gas-engines, the application of electrical -transmission, and, latest, the practical development of steam turbines -by Parsons, Westinghouse, Delaval, Curtis, and others. In these a jet -of steam impinges upon buckets set upon the circumference of a wheel. -It was clearly indicated by the Italian engineer Bronca, in 1629, -but he was too early. The time was not ripe, and there were then no -machine tools giving the perfection of workmanship required. - -Their advantages are that their motion is rotary and not reciprocal. -They can develop speed of from 5000 to 30,000 revolutions per minute, -while the highest ever attained by a reciprocating engine is not over -1000. Their thermodynamic losses are less, hence they consume less -steam and less fuel. - -It is a very interesting fact that the basic invention upon which not -only steam turbines and electric dynamos, but, indeed, all other parts -of mechanical engineering, depend, is of such remote antiquity that we -know nothing of its origin. This is the wheel which Gladstone said was -the greatest of man’s mechanical inventions, as there is nothing in -nature to suggest it. - -Duplication of parts has lowered the cost of all products. Clothing is -one of these. The parts of ready-made garments and shoes are now cut -into shape in numbers at a time, by sharp-edged templates, and then -fastened together by sewing-machines. - -Mechanical engineering is a good example of the survival of the -fittest. Millions of dollars are expended on machinery, when suddenly -a new discovery or invention casts them all into the scrap heap, to be -replaced by those of greater earning capacity. - -Prime motors derive their energy either from coal or other combinations -of carbon, such as petroleum, or from gravity. This may come from -falling water, and the old-fashioned water-wheels of the eighteenth -century were superseded in the nineteenth by turbines, first invented -in France and since greatly perfected. These are used in the electrical -transmission of water-power at Niagara of 5000 horse-power, and form a -very important part of the plant. - -The other gravity motors are wind-mills and wave-motors. Wind-mills are -an old invention, but have been greatly improved in the United States -by the use of the self-reefing wheel. The great plains of the West are -subject to sudden, violent gales of wind, and unless the wheel was -automatically self-reefing it would often be destroyed. Little has been -written about these wheels, but their use is very widely extended, and -they perform a most useful function in industrial engineering. - -There have been vast numbers of patents taken out for wave-motors. One -was invented in Chili, South America, which furnished a constant power -for four months, and was utilized in sawing planks. The action of waves -is more constant on the Pacific coast of America than elsewhere, and -some auxiliary power, such as a gasoline engine, which can be quickly -started and stopped, must be provided for use during calm days. The -prime cost of such a machine need not exceed that of a steam plant, -and the cost of operating is much less than that of any fuel-burning -engine. The saving of coal is a very important problem. In a wider -sense, we may say that the saving of all the great stores which nature -has laid up for us during the past, and which have remained almost -untouched until the nineteenth century, is _the_ great problem of -to-day. - -Petroleum and natural gas may disappear. The ores of gold, silver, and -platinum will not last forever. Trees will grow, and iron ores seem -to be practically inexhaustible. Chemistry has added a new metal in -aluminum, which replaces copper for many purposes. One of the greatest -problems of the twentieth century is to discover some chemical process -for treating iron, by which oxidation will not take place. - -Coal, next to grain, is the most important of nature’s gifts; it can -be exhausted, or the cost of mining it become so great that it cannot -be obtained in the countries where it is most needed; water, wind, and -wave power may take its place to a limited extent, and greater use may -be made of the waste gases coming from blast or smelter furnaces, but -as nearly all energy comes from coal, its use must be economized, and -the greatest economy will come from pulverizing coal and using it in -the shape of a fine powder. Inventions have been made trying to deliver -this powder into the fire-box as fast as made, for it is as explosive -as gunpowder, and as dangerous to store or handle. If this can be done, -there will be a saving of coal due to perfect and smokeless combustion, -as the admission of air can be entirely regulated, the same blast -which throws in the powder furnishing oxygen. Some investigators have -estimated that the saving of coal will be as great as twenty per cent. -This means 100,000,000 tons of coal annually. - -Bituminous coal will then be as smokeless as anthracite, and can -be burned in locomotives. Cities will be free from the nuisance of -wasted coal, which we call soot. This process will be the best kind -of mechanical stoking, and will prevent the necessity of opening the -doors of fire-boxes. The boiler-rooms of steamships will no longer be -“floating hells,” and the firing of large locomotives will become easy. - -Another problem of mechanical engineering is to determine whether it -will be found more economical to transform the energy of coal, at the -mines, into electric current and send it by wire to cities and other -places where it is wanted, or to carry the coal by rail and water, as -we now do, to such places, and convert it there by the steam or gas -engine. - -In favor of the first method it can be said that hills of refuse coal -now representing locked-up capital can be burned, and the cost of -transportation and handling be saved. Electric energy can now transport -power in high voltage economically between coal-mines and most large -cities. - -The second method has the advantage of not depending on one single -source of supply, that may break down, but in having the energy stored -in coal-pockets near by the place of use, where it can be applied to -separate units of power with no fear of failure. - -It seems probable that a combination of the two systems will produce -the best results. Where power can be sent electrically from the mines -for less cost than the coal can be transported, that method will be -used. - -To prevent stoppage of works, the separate motors and a store of coal, -to be used in cases of emergency, will still be needed, just as has -been described as necessary to the commercial success of wave-motors. - - -ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING - -Any attempt by the writer of this article to trace the progress of -electricity would be but a vain repetition, after the admirable manner -in which the subject has been treated in a former paper of this series -by Professor Elihu Thomson. - -We can only once more emphasize the fact that it is by the union of -four separate classes of minds—scientific discoverers, inventors, -engineers, and capitalists—that this vast new industry has been -created, which gives direct employment to thousands, and, as Bacon said -300 years ago, has “endowed the human race with new powers.” - - -METALLURGY AND MINING - -All the processes of metallurgy and mining employ statical, hydraulic, -mechanical, and electrical engineering. Coal, without railways and -canals, would be of little use, unless electrical engineering came to -its aid. - -It was estimated by the late Lord Armstrong that of the 450,000,000 to -500,000,000 tons of coal annually produced in the world, one-third is -used for steam production, one-third in metallurgical processes, and -one-third for domestic consumption. This last item seems large. It is -the most important manufacturing industry in the world, as may be seen -by comparing the coalless condition of the eighteenth century with the -coal-using condition of the nineteenth century. - -Next in importance comes the production of iron and steel. Steel, on -account of its great cost and brittleness, was only used for tools and -special purposes until past the middle of the last century. This has -been all changed by the invention of his steel by Bessemer in 1864, -and open-hearth steel in the furnace of Siemens, perfected some twenty -years since by Gilchrist & Thomas. - -The United States have taken the lead in steel manufacture. In 1873 -Great Britain made three times as much steel as the United States. Now -the United States makes twice as much as Great Britain, or forty per -cent. of all the steel made in the world. - -Mr. Carnegie has explained the reason why, in epigrammatic phrase: -“Three pounds of steel billets can be sold for two cents.” - -This stimulates rail and water traffic and other industries, as he -tells us one pound of steel requires two pounds of ore, one and -one-third pounds of coal, and one-third of a pound of limestone. - -It is not surprising, therefore, that the States bordering on the lakes -have created a traffic of 25,000,000 tons yearly through the Sault -Ste. Marie Canal, while the Suez, which supplies the wants of half the -population of the world, has only 7,000,000, or less than the tonnage -of the little Harlem River at New York. - - -INDUSTRIAL ENGINEERING - -This leads us to our last topic, for which too little room has been -left. Industrial engineering covers statical, hydraulic, mechanical, -and electrical engineering, and adds a new branch which we may call -chemical engineering. This is pre-eminently a child of the nineteenth -century, and is the conversion of one thing into another by a knowledge -of their chemical constituents. - -When Dalton first applied mathematics to chemistry and made it -quantitative, he gave the key which led to the discoveries of -Cavendish, Gay-Lussac, Berzelius, Liebig, and others. This new -knowledge was not locked up, but at once given to the world, and made -use of. Its first application on a large scale was made by Napoleon in -encouraging the manufacture of sugar from beets. - -The new products were generally made from what were called “waste -material.” We now have the manufacture of soda, bleaching powders, -aniline dyes, and other products of the distillation of coal, also -coal-oil from petroleum (known fifty or sixty years ago only as a horse -medicine), acetylene gas, celluloid, rubber goods in all their numerous -varieties, high explosives, cement, artificial manures, artificial ice, -beet-sugar, and even beer may now be included. - -Through many ages, the alchemists, groping in the dark, and in -ignorance of nature’s laws, wasted their time in trying to find what -they called the philosopher’s stone, which they hoped would transform -the baser metals into gold. - -If such a thing could be found it would be a curse, as it would take -away one of the most useful instruments we have—a fixed standard of -value. - -In a little over one hundred years, those working by the light of -science have found the true philosopher’s stone in modern chemistry. -The value of only a part of these new products exceeds the nominal -value of all the gold in the world. - -The value of our mechanical and chemical products is great, but it is -surpassed by that of food products. If these did not keep pace with -the increase of population, the theories of Malthus would be true—but -he never saw a modern reaper. - -The steam-plough was invented in England some fifty years since, but -the great use of agricultural machinery dates from our Civil War, when -so many men were taken from agriculture. It became necessary to fill -their places with machinery. Without tracing the steps which have led -to it, we may say that the common type is what is called “the binder,” -and is a machine drawn chiefly by animals, and in some cases by a field -locomotive. - -It cuts, rakes, and binds sheaves of grain at one operation. Sometimes -threshing and winnowing machines are combined with it, and the grain is -delivered into bags ready for the market. - -Different machines are used for cutting and binding corn, and -for mowing and raking hay, but the most important of all is the -grain-binder. The extent of their use may be known from the fact that -75,000 tons of twine are used by these machines annually. - -It is estimated that there are in the United States 1,500,000 of -these machines, but as the harvest is earlier in the South, there are -probably not over 1,000,000 in use at one time. As each machine takes -the place of sixteen men, this means that 16,000,000 men are released -from farming for other pursuits. - -The “man with the hoe” has disappeared from the real world, and is only -to be found in the dreams of poets. - -It is fair to assume that a large part of these 16,000,000 men have -gone into manufacturing, the operating of railways, and other pursuits. -The use of agricultural machinery, therefore, is one explanation of why -the United States produces eight-tenths of the world’s cotton and corn, -one-quarter of its wheat, one-third of its meat and iron, two-fifths of -its steel, and one-third of its coal, and a large part of the world’s -manufactured goods. - - -CONCLUSION - -It is a very interesting question, why was this great development -of material prosperity delayed so late? Why did it wait until the -nineteenth century, and then all at once increase with such rapid -strides? - -It was not until modern times that the reign of law was greatly -extended, and men were insured the product of their labors. - -Then came the union of scientists, inventors, and engineers. - -So long as these three classes worked separately but little was done. -There was an antagonism between them. Ancient writers went so far as -to say that the invention of the arch and of the potter’s wheel were -beneath the dignity of a philosopher. - -One of the first great men to take a different view was Francis Bacon. -Macaulay, in his famous essay, quotes him as saying: “Philosophy is the -relief of man’s estate, and the endowment of the human race with new -powers; increasing their pleasures and mitigating their sufferings.” -These noble words seem to anticipate the famous definition of civil -engineering, embodied by Telford in the charter of the British -Institution of Civil Engineers: “Engineering is the art of controlling -the great powers of nature for the use and convenience of man.” - -The seed sown by Bacon was long in producing fruit. Until the laws of -nature were better known, there could be no practical application of -them. Towards the end of the eighteenth century a great intellectual -revival took place. In literature appeared Voltaire, Rousseau, Kant, -Hume, and Goethe. In pure science there came Laplace, Cavendish, -Lavoisier, Linnæus, Berzelius, Priestley, Count Rumford, James Watt, -and Dr. Franklin. The last three were among the earliest to bring -about a union of pure and applied science. Franklin immediately applied -his discovery that frictional electricity and lightning were the same -to the protection of buildings by lightning-rods. Count Rumford (whose -experiments on the conversion of power into heat led to the discovery -of the conservatism of energy) spent a long life in contriving useful -inventions. - -James Watt, one of the few men who have united in themselves knowledge -of abstract science, great inventive faculties, and rare mechanical -skill, changed the steam-engine from a worthless rattletrap into -the most useful machine ever invented by man. To do this he first -discovered the science of thermodynamics, then invented the necessary -appliances, and finally constructed them with his own hands. He was a -very exceptional man. At the beginning of the nineteenth century there -were few engineers who had received any scientific education. Most of -them worked by their constructive instincts, like beavers, or from -experience only. It took a lifetime to educate such an engineer, and -few became eminent until they were old men. - -Now there is in the profession a great army of young men, most of them -graduates of technical schools, good mathematicians, and well versed -in the art of experimenting. The experiments of undergraduates on -cements, concrete, the flow of water, the impact of metals, and the -steam-engine, have added much to the general stock of knowledge. - -One of the present causes of progress is that all discoveries are -published at once in technical journals and in the daily press. The -publication of descriptive indexes of all scientific and engineering -articles as fast as they appear is another modern contrivance. - -Formerly scientific discoveries were concealed by cryptograms, printed -in a dead language, and hidden in the archives of learned societies. -Even so late as 1821 Oersted published his discovery of the uniformity -of electricity and magnetism in Latin. - -Engineering works could have been designed and useful inventions -made, but they could not have been carried out without combination. -Corporate organization collects the small savings of many into great -sums through savings-banks, life insurance companies, etc., and uses -this concentrated capital to construct the vast works of our days. -This could not continue unless fair dividends were paid. Everything -now has to be designed so as to pay. Time, labor, and material must -be saved, and he ranks highest who can best do this. Invention has -been encouraged by liberal patent laws, which secure to the inventor -property in his ideas at a moderate cost. - -Combination, organization, and scientific discovery, inventive ability, -and engineering skill are now united. - -It may be said that we have gathered together all the inventions of -the nineteenth century and called them works of engineering. This -is not so. Engineering covers much more than invention. It includes -all works of sufficient size and intricacy to require men trained in -the knowledge of the physical conditions which govern the mechanical -application of the laws of nature. First comes scientific discovery, -then invention, and lastly engineering. Faraday and Henry discovered -the electrical laws which led to the invention of the dynamo, which -was perfected by many minds. Engineering built such works as those at -Niagara Falls to make it useful. - -An ignorant man may invent a safety-pin, but he cannot build the -Brooklyn Bridge. - -The engineer-in-chief commands an army of experts, as without -specialization little can be done. His is the comprehensive design, for -which he alone is responsible. - -Such is the evolution of engineering, which began as a craft and has -ended as a profession. - -In past times, civilization depended upon military engineering. -Warriors at first used only the weapons of the hand. Then came military -engineering, applied both to attack and defence, and culminating in the -invention of gunpowder. The civilization of to-day depends greatly upon -civil engineering, as we have tried to show. It has changed the face -of the world and brought all men nearer together. It has improved the -condition of man by sanitary appliances and lowering the cost of food. -It has shown that through machinery the workman is better educated, -and his wages are increased, while the profits of capital increase -also. It has made representative government possible over vast areas of -territory, and is democratizing the world. - -Thoughtful persons have asked, will this new civilization last, or will -it go the way of its predecessors? Surely the answer is: all depends -on good government, on the stability of law, order, and justice, -protecting the rights of all classes. It will continue to grow with the -growth of good government, prosper with its prosperity, and perish with -its decay. - - THOMAS C. CLARKE. - - - - -RELIGION - - - - -CATHOLICISM - - - - -It is no unnatural curiosity that tempts us to recollect ourselves -at the end of a century and consider the gains and losses of three -generations, our inheritance from the past, our own administration of -the same, and the prospects of our descendants. Religion can only gain -from such a survey, for she is a world teacher on so large a scale that -all ordinary human methods of comparison and summary are too dwarfed -and insufficient for her. Her message is to all humanity; hence only -the most universal criteria are rightly applicable to her. It seems -to me that that is especially true of the oldest historical form of -Christianity, which is Roman Catholicism. - -The Roman Church has had a message for all humanity in every age ever -since Saint Clement penned his famous epistle to the Corinthians, or -Saint Victor caused the Christian world to meet in special councils for -the solution of a universal difficulty. It is no mere coincidence that, -at the opening of the last century of this mystical and wonderful cycle -of two thousand years, the Bishop of Rome should again address the -world in tones whose moderation and sympathy recall the temper and the -arguments of Saint Clement, his far-away predecessor and disciple of -Saint Peter. - -The year 1800 was a very disheartening one for Catholicism. It still -stood erect and hopeful, but in the midst of a political and social -wreckage, the result of a century of scepticism and destructive -criticism that acted at last as sparks for an ungovernable popular -frenzy, during which the old order appeared to pass away forever -and a new one was inaugurated with every manifestation of joy. The -tree of political liberty was everywhere planted, and the peoples of -Europe promised themselves a life of unalloyed comfort for all future -time. Catholicism was the religion of the majority of these people, -and was cunningly obliged to bear the brunt of all their complaints, -justified and unjustifiable; although the authorities of Catholicism -had long protested against many of the gravest abuses of the period, -sustained in formal defiance of the principles and institutions of the -Catholic religion. The new Cæsar threatened to be more terrible to the -independence of religion than any ancient one, and the revenues and -establishments by which Catholicism had kept up its public standing -and earned the esteem and gratitude of the people were swept away or -_quasi_ ruined. - -All the acquired charges and duties of the past were left to the -Catholic religion; yet the means to carry them on were taken away, -sometimes by open violence, sometimes by insidious measures, but always -by gross injustice. The final incidence of this injustice was on the -common people, since the Church was, after all, only the administrator -of very much that she was thus dispossessed of. - -With this overturning of all the conditions of Catholic life came -new problems, new trials, and a period of indefinite, uncertain -circumstances that were finally set at rest only at the Congress of -Vienna in 1815, by which an end was put to the political changes that -began with the Revolution of 1789. - -The _modus vivendi_ then reached, and soon consecrated by a series of -concordats, has remained substantially the basis of the dealings of -Catholicism with the governments of the Old World. Only one formal -and permanent violation of this legal situation has taken place, the -violent and unjust dispossession of the Holy See by the government of -the House of Savoy, in flagrant violation of every title that could -be invoked by a legitimate civil power. Elsewhere Catholicism has -undergone much suffering, both in the states of the Old World and in -the republics of South America. But, the above vital conflict apart, -the old century closed with no very acute or intolerable condition of -things, although there is much that does not reply to our ideas of -fairness and justice. - - -THE VATICAN COUNCIL - -The chief event of the century, from the point of view of Roman -Catholicism, is undoubtedly the holding of the Vatican Council. Since -the Council of Trent the bishops of the Catholic world had not met in -common under the guidance of the Bishop of Rome. The gravest interests -of religion seemed at stake after more than a century of public -infidelity and the overthrow of all former safeguards of faith. The -character of doctrinal authority and its visible tangible possessor -were declared by the dogma of Papal infallibility. The genuine -relations of reason and revelation were set forth in unmistakable -language. - -The troubles that followed the close of the Council in some parts of -Europe were neither serious nor long-lived, since its teachings were in -keeping with the general sense of Catholicism. It promoted, notably, -mutual respect and concord among the bishops and gave to the multitudes -of Catholics in the Old and New Worlds a new sign of the unity and -internal vigor of the Church. The scenes of the Council are indelibly -fixed in my memory, for I was the youngest and humblest of the six -hundred and sixty-seven bishops who composed it. - -A General Council is the very highest act of the life of the Church, -since it presents within a small compass, and at once, all the -movements that have been developing in the course of centuries, -and offers to all the faithful and to all outside the Church -straightforward answers to all the great ecclesiastical problems that -come up for settlement. Had the Vatican Council been finished it would -have taken up the grave subject of ecclesiastical discipline. That is -reserved for the reopening of the Council at some future date. - - -THE MISSIONS OF CATHOLICISM - -It is incumbent on the Catholic Church to spread the teachings of Jesus -Christ, and this by His own divine command: “Going, therefore, teach -all nations.” - -In this last century she has not been unfaithful, any more than in -others. No portion of the vineyard has been neglected; the martyr’s -blood has watered some parts more abundantly, but in all the missionary -has toiled without ceasing, has spent himself. In the Far East Catholic -missions have been carried on in India, China, Thibet, Tonkin. In -every part of Africa, northern, central, and southern, the priests and -nuns of the Catholic Church have preceded the explorer or followed the -trader and the miner with the blessings of religion. In the still pagan -parts of North and South America her missionaries are found all through -the century. They have kept up their vigils in the Holy Land, and in -general have made a notable progress. - -The inventions of the age have been beneficial by opening up new lands -and by making transit easy and rapid, thus recalling some of the -conditions which conduced to the original spread of the religion of -Jesus. A multitude of noble souls have devoted all to the enlightenment -of the barbarian and pagan world. And while I disparage no land, and -do not undervalue the good intentions and efforts of those outside our -pale, I cannot pass over in silence the French nation, which has given -more abundantly than any, perhaps more abundantly than all others, of -priests, sisters, and funds for the essential duty of Catholicism. -The work of the Propagation of the Faith and the Seminary of Foreign -Missions at Paris deserve a special souvenir as often as Catholic -missions are mentioned. - - -THE POPES OF THE CENTURY - -Six Popes ruled the Church in the nineteenth century: Pius VII., Leo -XII., Pius VIII., Gregory XVI., Pius IX., and the present venerable -pontiff, Leo XIII. In the person of Pius VII. they have known what -martyrdom was like, also the shame and humiliation of being subject -to a civil power absolute in its character and prone to unwarrantable -interference with the ecclesiastical power, even to contempt of its -most ancient and venerable rights. In Gregory XVI. and Pius IX. -they learned the purposes and the power of those who in Europe have -succeeded to the men of the French Revolution. In Leo XIII. their line, -the oldest line of rulers on the earth, can boast of a most enlightened -mind and a very sympathetic heart. Long time a bishop of an important -see before he was made Pope, he has been at the level of every task -imposed upon the Papacy. - -In a particular manner he has been the patron of ecclesiastical -studies, by his scholarly encyclicals on philosophy, Scripture, -history, and other branches of learning. A noble specimen of this -activity is his late letter to the bishops of France on the studies -of the clergy. His spirit is the Christian spirit of reconciliation -and concord, yet without sacrifice of the immemorial rights and the -solemn obligations of the Apostolic See. He may not live to see the -restoration of his independence, and the reparation of the wrong -inflicted upon the Holy See, but he can maintain a protest that will -forever invalidate among Catholics the claim of the actual government -and keep open the Roman question until it is rightly settled. - -Catholics cannot forget that the Pope for the time being is, according -to Catholic doctrine, the successor of Saint Peter in all his rights -and privileges as the visible head of the Church, appointed by Jesus -Himself. Hence, among other duties, he has to safeguard the approved -traditions and the general legislation of the past, to protect the -status of the Church as given over to him, and to hand it down -undiminished to his own successor. Precisely because he is the head -of the Church he may not licitly alter its organic and regular life, -or arbitrarily abandon the almost sacrosanct ways along which his -predecessors have moved, or give up lightly the institutions in which -religion has gradually found a setting for itself. - -I venture to say that this element of fixity in the attitude of -the Apostolic See will be more appreciated in another age, more -constructive and architectonic than the past, less querulous and -destructive, even if less daring and brilliant. Forever to pull down -and scatter, and never to build up and perfect, cannot be the final -purpose of human society. It is perhaps worth remarking that the -average reign of the Popes was much longer in the nineteenth century -than in any other, being over sixteen years, and that two successive -reigns, those of Pius IX. and Leo XIII., represent fifty-four -continuous years of Church government at Rome, a phenomenon not -witnessed since the foundation of that Church by Saint Peter and Saint -Paul. - - -THE CATHOLIC HIERARCHY - -During this century the Holy Father has been able to restore the -Catholic hierarchy in England, Scotland, Holland, and to create it -anew in India. This means the orderly management of the works and -the purposes of the Catholic religion, since the episcopate is the -divinely instituted organ for its spread and its administration. In -many lands a numerous episcopate has sprung up. In our own beloved -country it has grown almost at the rate of one see for every year -of the century. The apostolic activity of the episcopate has been -usually beyond reproach. The care of souls, the creation of parishes, -building of churches, convents, schools, and charitable institutions -has gone on in every diocese of the Catholic world. Some bishops have -distinguished themselves by their sanctity of life and their love for -the poor; others by their learning and their skill in their writing -works of utility for the faithful; others by their holy martyrdoms, -both in pagan and Christian lands; others by devotion to great works of -common charity and utility—nearly all by their exemplary lives and the -conscientious performance of their duties. - -No nation has a monopoly of this outpouring of the highest sacerdotal -devotion; and no nation or people, as far as I can learn, has been -without a steady succession of remarkable bishops, men who would have -done honor to any age of Christian history. I believe that it is the -constant and edifying service of the episcopal body which is chiefly -responsible for the improvement in learning, morality, and laborious -enlightened zeal on the part of the clergy, diocesan and monastic, -which it seems just to claim for the nineteenth century. In some -lands the episcopal office is freer than in others, and its beneficent -activity is more immediate and visible. In all the bishops have kept -the bond of unity, often at no inconsiderable sacrifice of personal -comfort. Neither schism nor heresy of any formal and noteworthy nature -has been connected with the episcopal office. It would ill become me -to discriminate where the merits are so equal. I may, however, be -permitted to rejoice with my countrymen at the end of the century that -the life and the teachings of a Carroll, a Cheverus, a Bruté a Neumann, -a Dubois, have not been without salutary effect, and have set a shining -mark for the imitation of all coming generations. Particularly have -such men inculcated habitual courtesy and charity in dealing with all -those who did not share the faith of Catholics. They were fresh from -the storms of foreign religious hatred and infidel intolerance, and -knew by personal experience the benefit of mutual good understanding -and personal respect. - -In the United States, particularly, the Catholic episcopate has been -very active in providing for the most fundamental spiritual needs -of their flocks—churches for religious services, priests for the -administration of sacraments, schools for the preservation of the -revealed Christian faith, orphanages for the little waifs and castaways -of society. Whether short or long, the periods of government of these -Church rulers have never been idle nor marked by self-indulgence. -Almost every one has left some monument of faith as a contribution -to the general good of Catholicism. I would neither exaggerate nor -boast, yet it occurs to me, after many years of service, travel, and -observation, that few ages of Christianity can show a more laborious -and elevated episcopate than the nineteenth century. - -The recruiting of the diocesan clergy has been the gravest duty of -this episcopate, for religion lives by and for men. It can get along -without wealth or monuments, but not without intelligent teachers of -its tenets and faithful observers of its precepts. In keeping with -the decrees of the Council of Trent diocesan seminaries have been -opened where it was possible, and elsewhere provincial institutions -of a similar character. Both flourish in the United States, and grow -more numerous with every decade. The older clergy, long drawn from -the venerable schools of Europe, have left a sweet odor among us, -the purest odor of self-sacrificing lives, of devotion to poor and -scattered flocks, of patient, uncomplaining contentment with the -circumstances of poverty and humility. There is no diocese in the -United States where there cannot be heard tales of the hardships and -brave lives of the ecclesiastics who laid the foundations of religion. -We remember them always, and hold their names in benediction. The -younger generation of our clergy enjoys advantages denied to their -predecessors; but we consider that they owe it to those predecessors if -they have a degree of leisure to perfect the culture of their minds, -and a faithful Catholic people to ask for the benefits which must -accrue from greater learning, if it be solid and well directed. - -Yet I cannot admit that our older clergy were deficient in the learning -of the schools. The names of England and Corcoran are at once on our -lips, not to speak of a long array of others almost equally entitled -to distinguished mention. If the external conditions of the diocesan -clergy have improved, their relations to the Church authority have -been safeguarded with even greater earnestness and efficiency. The -dispositions of synods, provincial councils, and the three plenary -councils of Baltimore have, we are happy to say, had little to do with -questions of doctrine. They have all been held for the improvement -of discipline and notably for the welfare of the clergy. In the same -direction, also, have tended the numerous decisions and instructions -from the Roman congregations, whose wisdom has never been invoked -by us in vain, and whose sympathy for our conditions we gratefully -acknowledge. - - -THE CONGREGATION OF THE PROPAGANDA - -Any account of the good influence of the Holy See on our ecclesiastical -conditions would be unjust and incomplete if the Congregation of the -Propaganda Fide were omitted. To it we owe an unceasing surveillance, -full of prudence and intelligence. From its offices have come to the -bishops regularly counsel, warning, encouragement, co-operation. It -has been eminently just and fair, also fearless in the application of -the principles, the spirit, and the letter of canonical discipline. -Its action is a calm and grave one, marked by reticence and patience -and that composure which belongs to the highest judicial decisions. -But the Catholic Church in the United States and in Canada owes it an -undisputed debt of gratitude. The most learned cardinals of the century -and the best ecclesiastical talent have co-operated in the creation of -its legislation, which need not fear the criticism of any learned and -honest judicial body of men. - - -RELIGIOUS ORDERS AND COMMUNITIES - -In the religious orders and communities the Catholic Church possesses a -very ancient auxiliary force that has rendered incalculable help during -the century. By their numbers, their strong inherited traditions, their -central government, their willing obedience, and their other resources -they have come everywhere to the aid of the bishops and the diocesan -clergy. Often they bore alone and for a long time, and at great -sacrifices, the whole burden of religion. Their praise is rightly -on all sides, and their works speak for them, when their modesty and -humility forbid them to praise themselves. The missions of Catholicism -in this century, as in others, have largely fallen to them. They stood -in the breach for the cause of education when the churches were too -poor and few to open colleges. They have given countless missions and -retreats, and in general have not spared themselves when called upon -for works of general utility. They and their works are of the essence -of Catholicism, and they ought rightly to flourish in any land where -they are free to live according to the precepts and the spirit of their -founders, who are often canonized saints of the Catholic Church. - -I shall not be saying too much when I assert that among the invaluable -services rendered to the Church by Catholic women of all conditions of -life—no unique thing in the history of Catholicism—those rendered -by the women of religious communities are of the first rank of merit. -Primary Catholic education, in the United States, at least, would have -been almost impossible without their devotion. It is owing to them that -the orphans have been collected and cared for, the sick housed and -sheltered, the poor and helpless and aged, the crippled and the blind, -looked after regularly and lovingly. They surely walk in the footsteps -of Jesus, doing good wherever they go. The perennial note of sanctity -in the Catholic Church shines especially in them. Content with food and -clothing and shelter, they devote their lives, often in the very flower -of youth and health and beauty, to the weak and needful members of -Christian society. He must needs be a Divine Master who can so steadily -charm into His service the purest and the most affectionate of hearts, -and cause them to put aside deliberately for love of Him even the most -justifiable of human attachments. This argument for Christianity is -not new; it was urged by Saint Justin the Martyr on the libertine world -of the Antonines. - - -THE UNITY OF CHRISTENDOM - -Throughout this century the Roman Church has desired and sought by all -practical means the restoration of the former unity of Christendom. -Each succeeding Pope has appealed to the ancient but separated Churches -of the Orient, reminding them of the past oneness and the need of union -with that see which all their records proclaim the rock and centre of -unity. Similarly, appeals have been issued to the divided Christian -communities of the West, as when Pius IX. wrote to the members of -the Protestant world before the Vatican Council, and when Leo XIII. -lately addressed his famous encyclical on the Unity of the Church to -all men of good will within the Anglican pale. Such efforts may seem -perfunctory; but they have in our eyes a deep meaning. They proclaim -the doctrine of unity that is clearer than the noonday sun from the -teachings of Jesus; they make a first step in the direction of its -restoration; they keep alive the spirit of charity in many hearts, and -they stir up countless prayers for the consummation of an end that -few believing Christians any longer consider unnecessary. Already -the canker-worms of doubt and indifference are gnawing at those last -foundations of the old inherited Christian religious beliefs that still -worked beneficently outside the pale of Catholic unity, but are now -disappearing from the public consciousness because, too often, they -are no longer elements of private conviction. In the realm of faith, -as in that of nature, there is an after-glow, when the central sun has -spent its force; but in both that glow is the herald of coldness and -darkness. To those who no longer allow in their hearts any Christian -belief, Catholicism has strongly appealed in the nineteenth century -by its teachings on the right use of reason in matters of faith, the -claims of religion on the mind and the heart of man, the benefits of -Christianity, and its superiority over all other forms of religion—in -a word, by the constant exposé of all the motives of credibility -which could affect a sane and right mind that had divested itself of -prejudice and passion. - - -CONVERSIONS TO CATHOLICISM - -Not the least remarkable share of the history of Catholicism is seen in -the stream of conversions that began in the very stress of the French -Revolution and has not ceased to flow since then. From every land of -the Old and New Worlds hundreds of thousands have returned of their -own volition to the ancient fold wherein we firmly believe is kept the -sacred deposit of saving truth. They have come to us from the pulpits -of opposing religions and from the workshops of an unbelieving science. -Every condition of life, and both sexes, have sent us numerous souls. -Very many of these conversions have been unsolicited and unexpected. -Some of them meant an accession of wealth or social prestige or -high rank. Others brought with them the beloved tribute of uncommon -intelligence, experience of life and men, acquired erudition, the -highest gifts of style and oratory. Very many have come from the middle -walks of life, and signified no more than a great weariness of pursuing -shadows for the reality of divine truth, and the excessive goodness of -the Holy Spirit of God which bloweth where it listeth. Of this army of -converts some have been drawn by the conviction that the Bible alone, -without an interpreter and a witness divinely guaranteed, could not -suffice as a rule of faith. Others have been moved by the incarnation -in the Church of the spirit and functions of authority without which -no society can exist. Still others have come back to the Mother of all -churches, through a deep heart-weariness at the endless dilapidation -of divine truth outside the Roman Church. Some have sought and found -through the study of history the open door to the truth. Others again -through the study of art and its functions in the Christian Church. In -whatever way they returned to the unity of the original sheepfold, they -are an eloquent witness to the innate vigor and the immortal charm of -the Christian truth as preserved in Catholicism. For they have come in -unconditionally. Their return has worked beneficially, not only for -themselves, but for those of the Catholic faith, whom it has consoled -and encouraged for their steadfastness, while the non-Catholic world -cannot but feel that that religion is worthy of respect, even of study, -which can forever draw so many men and women out of the ranks of its -adversaries, even at the sacrifice of many things which are usually -held dear by society. - - -THE RELATIONS WITH CIVIL AUTHORITY - -Being a genuine and world-wide religion, Catholicism could not but come -into contact with the powers in which rests the social authority. - -In many cases the fundamental relations of both have been settled by -documents of a _quasi_ constitutional character known as concordats. -They are binding on both parties, yet in more than one case the supreme -authority of Catholicism has had reason to complain of their violation -either in letter or in spirit. - -Important points like the freedom of episcopal elections, the -management of ecclesiastical revenues, the freedom of access to and -communication with the Holy See, have been tampered with or openly -abolished. In a general way Catholics are far from being content -with the actual administration of these _quasi_ treaties between -the civil and the ecclesiastical powers in the Old World and in -South America—yet they respect them and desire to live up to their -requirements. It is to be hoped that in the new century there will -be less suspicion of the truly beneficent intentions of the Church, -and less hampering of the common organs of her existence and work. -In a century filled with revolutions as no other the Catholic Church -has comported herself with dignity and equity, and managed to find -the correct _via media_ in this great tangle of opposing and mutually -destructive forms and theories of government. - - -THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND THE UNITED STATES - -In our own beloved country we have every reason to be thankful that -the liberty to worship God according to the dictates of conscience -is guaranteed by the Constitution, and has entered deeply into the -convictions of our fellow-citizens. The Catholic Church, by her own -constitution, is deeply sympathetic with our national life and all -that it stands for. She has thrived in the atmosphere of liberty, -and seeks only the protection of the common law, that equal justice -which is dealt out to all. She is the oldest historical and continuous -government on the earth, and it is no small index of the value of our -institutions and their durability that they make provision for the life -and the work of so vast and so aged a society. It would also seem to -show that, through a long course of centuries, Catholicism held as its -own genuine political teachings only such as were finally compatible -with the most perfect and universal citizenship known to history. - -When this nation was forming, the first Catholic bishop in the United -States, and my first predecessor in the see of Baltimore, John -Carroll, accepted and performed satisfactorily the gravest public duty -of a citizen, an embassy to another people for the benefit of his own -country. Thereby he left to us all an example and a teaching that we -shall ever cherish, the example of self-sacrifice as the prime duty of -every citizen, and the teaching that patriotism is a holy conviction -to which no Catholic, priest or layman, can hold himself foreign or -apathetic. - -A Catholic layman of the same distinguished family, Charles Carroll -of Carrollton, threw in his lot with the patriots from the beginning, -and by word and deed served the cause of American liberty, while he -lived to see it flourish and inform more and more the minds and hearts -of the first generation of American citizens. In future centuries, as -in this, his name will be held in honor and benediction as a signer -of the Declaration of Independence. His Catholic belief and conduct -will forever be a potent encouragement to the children of his own -faith. He was the first layman to contribute notably to the cause of -Catholic education, and the native formation of the priesthood, by the -establishment of a college for that purpose. - - -THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND EDUCATION - -We have done our best in these ten decades to provide the best -education for our people and our priests. Intimately convinced that -general education without religion is destined to be an evil rather -than a blessing, we have created all over the United States a system of -primary education in parochial schools that has cost us and yet costs -us the gravest sacrifices and entails the heaviest solicitudes. Yet we -feel that we are serving the cause of God and country by indoctrinating -our Catholic youth with persuasions of the existence of God and His -holy attributes, of the true nature of vice and virtue, of conscience -and sin, of the spiritual and the temporal, of the proper purposes -of life, of punishment and reward in an immortal life. We believe -that Christianity is better than paganism; also that Christianity -is something simple, positive, historical, that can and ought to be -taught from the cradle to the grave, good for all conditions, for both -sexes, and for every situation in life this side of the common grave. -Believing this, we have shaped our conduct accordingly, and trust to -God for the issue. In such matters it imports more to be right in -principle than to be successful. Our secondary system of education -has gone on from the founding of the Republic. Colleges for boys and -academies for girls have risen up in every State and Territory, have -been supported by the faithful people, and are doing an incalculable -good. As our means increase and other advantages offer, we hope -to improve them; Catholicism is no stagnant pool, but a field for -every good private initiative that respects right and truth. In the -Catholic University of America, founded in the last decade of the -century by Pope Leo XIII. and the Catholic hierarchy, after due and -lengthy deliberation, and made possible by the magnificent generosity -of a Catholic woman, we have centred our hopes of a system of higher -education that shall embody the best traditions of our ancient Church -and the approved gains of our own times. American Catholics have not -disposed in the past of great wealth, inherited or earned; hence all -these works mean an incredible devotion and intensity of good will and -sustained sacrifices. Wherever the Catholic Church has been strong and -successful, schools of every kind flourish. I need only recall the -fact that the idea, the constitution, the functions, the influences of -a university were unknown in the world until she created the type in -the Middle Ages, and gave over to mankind a new factor in civil and -religious life—the power of organized learning. - - -THE SOCIAL MOVEMENT - -Through the whole century one line of thought and action has been -gradually disengaging itself from all others and dominating them. -That is the social movement, or the tendency towards a more evenly -just and natural conception of all the relations that arise from the -common dwelling of mankind in organized society. It has long taken the -form of institutions and plans for the betterment of the conditions -of the people, of woman, of all who suffer or think they suffer from -the actual organization of society. If there is something Utopian in -certain plans or hopes, there is too much that is justifiable at the -root of other attempts to reorganize our social conditions. Not to -speak of the undesirable inheritances of the past, the new conditions -created for the common man by the spread of industrialism and -commercialism have often been painful in the extreme, and have aroused -both violent protests and deep sympathy. By the help of God we have -abolished the reproach of slavery in every civilized land, but we hear -from the laboring multitudes a vague cry that they are already in the -throes of a return to that accursed institution. - -Here the doctrines of Catholicism are eminently in accord with the -right conception of human nature, the functions of authority and mutual -help or charity, the duty to live, and the right to all the necessary -means for that end. She is sympathetic, historically and naturally, to -the toiling masses, who, after all, form everywhere the bulk of her -adherents, and have been always the most docile and affectionate of her -members. It is she who created in the world the practical working idea -of a common humanity, the basis of all genuine social improvement. The -trials of Catholicism have come more often from the luxury and the -sin of those in high places than from the disaffection of its great -masses. As this movement has gathered force, and passed from theories -into the domain of action, the Catholic Church, through her head, has -followed it with attention and respect. The whole pontificate of Leo -XIII. is remarkable for acts and documents which have passed into the -history of social endeavor in the nineteenth century. His personal -charities, large and enlightened, are as nothing in comparison with -the far-reaching acts like the refusal to condemn the association of -the Knights of Labor. His encyclical on the Condition of Workingmen -recalls the only possible lines of a final concord between labor and -capital—the spirit and teachings of Jesus Christ, the best Friend our -common humanity ever had. In the same way, his latest encyclical on -Jesus Christ, with which the religious history of the century closes, -emphasizes the true basis for the restoration of peace and harmony -and justice between the poor and the rich, between the producers of -capital and the capital that stimulates and regulates production. We -may be confident that the papacy of the future will not show less -enlightenment and sympathy in its attempts to solve these delicate and -grave problems with the least injustice and the greatest charity. - - -LIGHTS AND SHADOWS - -It would be idle to deny or to palliate the many shadows that fall -across the history of Catholicism in the century that has elapsed. I -scarcely need refer to the weaknesses and errors of her individual -children: such acts she repudiates, and when she can chastises -remedially. But the Church has not recovered that vast inherited -moral power over the public life which it enjoyed before the French -Revolution. In many ways the consequences of atheism, materialism, and -even of deism, have been deduced into manners and institutions, to -the detriment of the ancient Christian morality. The sterner Christian -virtue of previous centuries, founded on the Christian revelation, -has been forced out of the public life of whole peoples. Expediency, -opportunism, moral cowardice have often triumphed over the plain right -and the fair truth. The principle has been established that God is on -the side of the great battalions, is ever with the strong men of blood -and iron. Ancient and venerable sovereignties have been hypocritically -dispossessed. Small nationalities have been erased from the world’s -political map, and the history of the near past almost justifies the -rumors of impending steps in the same direction. With the increase of -greatness in states comes an increase of warlike perils, not only from -commercial rivalry, but from that root of ambition and domination which -grows in every heart, unless checked and subdued in time, and which -in the past has been too often the source of violent injustice on the -greatest scale. - -These deeds and principles we believe to be a necessary result of -naturalism, of the exclusion of the supernatural and revealed elements -of Christianity from our public life, and not only these, but others -of a graver character, that must one day follow from their logical and -unchecked evolution. Divorce, a cause of ruin in every land, grows -with rapidity in many civilized nations, so much so that not only -Catholicism, its inveterate enemy, is shocked, but Christian men of -every persuasion believe that some public and authoritative steps ought -to be taken to prevent the pollution of the family life, that fixed and -natural source of public morality. Religion has been officially thrust -out of the systems of education, in every grade, and the young mind -taught that it is quite a private and unimportant thing. Thus, under -the plea of indifference, many States have practically made themselves -the champions of that agnosticism which is the arch-enemy not only of -religion, but also of patriotism from time immemorial connected with -religion. The average man soon ceases to make great sacrifices, above -all to die for the public good, when he is satisfied that there is no -other life, or that it is not worth while living for the uncertainties -of approval and reward by an eternal God, who is just and true and holy. - - -REASONS FOR ENCOURAGEMENT - -On the other hand, the Catholic man or woman knows that there are great -spiritual forces at work in the world, however unhappily its public -life may be developing from the view-point of Christian morality. There -are innumerable lives guided by the principles of Christian virtue, -some of them even culminating in the highest sanctity. Though not -all such are known to men, yet not a few become public examples and -incitements to virtue. Even outside of the Catholic faith there are -not a few who regulate their lives by the natural virtues and also by -inherited Christian virtues that work sometimes unconsciously, but -whose practice can only be pleasing to our common Father. Sweet Charity -is yet a queen in Christian lands; her services and utility are too -great to permit her dethronement. Great misfortunes of any kind still -touch the hearts of men that are Christian yet when their minds have -become clouded by indifference to, or dislike of, the supernatural -verities. Luxury and wealth, greater perhaps than the world has yet -seen, are still conscious of duties to the common weal. Educational -institutions of every character and philanthropical enterprises of -every variety have flourished on the means thus provided. But from our -point of view it is better that all such phenomena, to be lasting, -should have their root and origin in Christian purposes and belief. It -is yet true, as it was of old on the hill-sides of Judæa: “Except the -Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it. Except the Lord -keepeth the city, he watcheth in vain that keepeth it.” (Psalm 126.) - - -THE FUTURE OF CATHOLICISM - -We entertain no doubt that the organization which has weathered the -storms and stress of so many centuries will continue to do so in the -future. The Catholic Church has the promises of her Divine Founder -that the gates of hell shall not prevail against her. How could she -doubt of her future? It does not seem likely that any vicissitudes can -arise which have not their counterpart or analogy in the past, so old -is she on this earth, and so many are the forms of government and the -kinds of human culture with which she has lived. We are confident that -she will be equal to all the emergencies of the future, for while the -Church is always identical with and present to herself in a conscious -way, her children and her agents may grow in experience and wisdom, -as they undoubtedly do, and may bring both of these factors to bear -upon the future problems of our common humanity. Of one thing we may -feel certain: she will never cease to desire and to work for that -efficacious unity of all Christendom, which is the permanent wish of -its Holy Founder, and for which her bishops and priests have never -ceased to pray in those opening words of the Roman Canon of the Mass -that we repeat daily: “Therefore, O Most Clement Father, we suppliantly -pray to Thee through Jesus Christ Our Lord... especially for Thy Holy -Catholic Church, which mayst Thou vouchsafe to pacify, keep, unite, and -govern throughout the world.” - - JAMES, CARD. GIBBONS. - - - - -PROTESTANTISM - - -The motives which have acted upon religion in the nineteenth century, -either by way of directly enhancing its power or by restricting its -influence, are these: (1) Humanitarianism; (2) The Historical Spirit; -(3) Science; (4) Nationalism. Although the course of religious history -has varied somewhat in different countries as well as in the different -Churches, yet it is possible to form an approximate picture of the -resultant of these forces which will reveal the progress of the Kingdom -of God in the world. - - -I - -The first of these motives—humanitarianism—has powerfully influenced -the Christian world by asserting the rights of man, liberty, equality -and the spirit of fraternity, the sense of human brotherhood. The germs -of the humanitarian movement may be traced in the eighteenth century, -as in the teaching of Lessing and Herder and Rousseau; in religious -movements like the Great Awakening in the United States, the revival -in England under Wesley and Whitefield, in tentative efforts for the -abolition of slavery (Hopkins and Clarkson), and prison reform (John -Howard). But the nineteenth century has been distinguished above all -the other Christian centuries in the results achieved by the sentiment -of humanity. It has led to the abolition of slavery under English rule, -in the United States, and in Russia; to many reform movements of every -kind and degree, wherever there existed actual or latent tyranny, -which robbed humanity of its inherent privileges. - -The humanitarian sentiment is Christian in its origin, derived -primarily from the conviction of the incarnation of God in Christ. -Christ appears in history as the leader of humanity in the struggle for -freedom. Slowly but surely ever since His advent, the world of man has -been moving forward to the attainment of the ideal of humanity revealed -in Him. “Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free. -And if the Son of God shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.” -The progress towards freedom inspired by Him who taught the fatherhood -of God and the brotherhood of men has been accomplished in the face -of great hinderances and long reverses, overcoming obstacles which -would have been insuperable without Christian faith. In the nineteenth -century the movement towards human freedom seems almost to have reached -its culmination. Within the sphere of religion the progress is most -manifest in the spread of Christian missions, which stand out in any -review of the century as one of its most extraordinary achievements. -It might be justly designated as a missionary age. So intense and -persistent has been its devotion to the gospel of Christ as essential -for man that when the century closed it might be truly said that the -round world had been girdled with Christian missions, whose results -are more significant for civilization, as well as for religion, than -any statistics can reveal. The missionary has been the pioneer, it is -becoming increasingly evident, of momentous changes yet to appear. - -The sentiment of humanity has operated as a motive in the study of -human history, giving to historical inquiry a new interest and impetus. -No age has been so fruitful in the results of historical research, -with conclusions of vital importance for every department of life, -but chiefly this, that an independent place has been vindicated for -humanity, as having a life of its own distinct from and above the -natural order of the physical world. The study of man as he appears -in history has tended to strengthen faith in the essential truths of -religion, opening up as it has done the deeper knowledge of the nature -of man to which the religion of Christ appeals; for the modern method -of studying history, as compared with earlier methods, consists in -seeking for those inward subjective moods of the human soul which -lie beneath creeds or institutions, and not solely in the accurate -description of the objective fact. The facts of human life call for -interpretation, and for this the historian must search. Thus has been -born what is almost a new department of inquiry—the philosophy of -history (Hegel and many others). Differ as do these attempts at a -philosophy of history, they yet possess one ruling idea—the conviction -of a development in the life of humanity when viewed as a whole. The -idea of development controlled the higher intellectual life of the -first half of the century. It was applied with important results to the -study of ecclesiastical history, by Schleiermacher, Neander, Gieseler, -Baur, Rothe, Bunsen, and many others, by the Roman Catholic Möhler, -in his _Symbolik_, and by John Henry Newman, in however one-sided and -imperfect manner. The doctrine of development found its classic formula -in the lines of Tennyson: - - “Yet, I doubt not through the ages - One increasing purpose runs, - And the thoughts of men are widened - With the process of the suns.” - -The influence of the doctrine of development has been felt in the -study of Scripture, leading to a recognition of progressiveness in -the divine revelation, whose record has been preserved in the Old and -New Testaments (Mozley, _Ruling Ideas in the Early Ages_). By means -of this truth have been overcome, till they now seem unworthy, the -objections to the Old Testament on the ground that it gave sanction -to cruelty, deceit, or an imperfect morality. But the inference has -also followed that the revelation of God to humanity must be searched -for in the sacred records, and even by the light of close critical -scrutiny, if the divine utterance is to be distinguished from crude -misapprehensions or misapplications. Forms of literary expression, -current usages, the historical environment of the time—for these -allowance must be made as their influence is recognized. The science -of biblical criticism has gained from the study of general history a -larger knowledge of the nature of man, which, in turn, has made the -study of the Bible more profound and thorough, because more real and -human than were the biblical studies of the eighteenth century. The -primary question which it has been found necessary to ask in regard to -any doctrine or institution is not whether it is true—for the canons -of truth may vary with the relative position of the inquirer; but, -rather, what does it mean? When the meaning of the record is seen, the -question of its truth has answered itself. - -The effect of these studies, even of what is called the “higher -criticism,” has not lessened the authority of the Bible or changed -the character of Christianity as “a religion of the book”; but their -tendency has been to vindicate the unique and essential place of the -Bible in literature as containing the veritable record of a divine -revelation. Some things, indeed, have been changed: the order in which -the books of the Bible were written is not the order in which they -stand; some of them are of composite authorship, whose various parts -were written at different times; the traditional chronology, known as -Ussher’s (1656), has been abandoned, nor is there anything in the Bible -which places it in opposition to the teachings of geology relative -to the length of time during which man has occupied the earth; the -historical order of priest and prophet has been reversed, so that the -voice of prophecy comes before the decline into ritual (Wellhausen -and others). Popular misapprehensions tend to vanish in the light of -a true insight and interpretation, such as that the first chapter of -Genesis was intended to be an infallible record of the divine order in -the creation of the world. That a similar account of the creation is -found in Babylonian literature only shows that the Bible writer was -illustrating by the best scientific knowledge of the time the vastly -higher spiritual truth with which the Bible opens, that the creation is -the work of God, thus leading man to the worship of God and away from -the lower worships of sun and moon and all the hosts of Heaven. - -The mechanical conceptions as to the mode of inspiration and revelation -tend to give way before a larger and truer conception of the process -by which the revelation is made—that God speaks to man actually and -authoritatively through the experience of the events of life. Thus -revelation becomes a living process, and all later history may become -a commentary on sacred history, renewing and confirming the primal -utterance of God to the soul of man. Much, it is true, yet remains -to be done in bridging the gulf between the learned and scientific -interpretation of the sacred record and the popular apprehension, -which, formed in the uncritical moments of youth, often persists to -mature years and constitutes a source of confusion and weakness. A -similar situation was seen in the Middle Ages in the wide breach which -existed between the scholastic theologians and the popular mind. - -A new department has been added to religious inquiry in Comparative -Religion, which aims at an impartial investigation and free from -prejudice, and is also moved by the sentiment of a common humanity -to respect all utterances of religious feeling in the soul of man. -How widely the nineteenth century has advanced in this respect is -seen by recalling a statement of Dr. Johnson: “There are two objects -of curiosity—the Christian world and the Mohammedan world. All the -rest may be considered as barbarous.” One of the most representative -monuments of religious scholarship in the last century is Professor -Max Müller’s _Sacred Books of the East_. Some inquirers in this -unfamiliar department have worked under the impression that these -ancient religions were equal in value to the Christian revelation; -others even have thought them to be in some respects superior. And, -in general, the first effect of the discovery that there was truth in -other religions had a tendency to weaken the claim of Christianity to -be the absolute religion. But as the results of the study have been -placed in their normal perspective, it becomes evident that they only -confirm the words of St. Paul, that God has at no time left Himself -without witnesses in the world. Revelation also is seen to have been a -universal process; and profound spiritual motives are to be discerned -beneath the diverse manifestations of the religious instincts. Yet, on -the whole, the preponderating judgment leads to the conclusion that -Christianity contains the larger, even the absolute, truth; that while -it confirms some features in these religions as true, it condemns -others as false; that Christianity also has for one of its essential -characteristics an assimilative power, which not only enables, but -forces, it to appropriate as its own any aspects of truth contained -in other religions, which have not hitherto been illustrated in the -history of the Christian Church. Nor is the familiar test applied to -religions wholly indefensible which judges them by their historical -fruits or associations. In accordance with this test, Confucianism is -represented by China, Hinduism by India, Buddhism by Ceylon and Siam, -Mohammedanism by Turkey, Christianity by Europe and America. - -The influence of the humanitarian sentiment may be further traced in -softening the asperities of some forms of traditional theology, as, for -example, the Calvinistic doctrine of election with its alternatives -of reprobation or preterition. These certainly have not been the -favorite doctrines which have commended themselves to the spirit of the -age. The effort has been made to bring the doctrine of the atonement -within the limits of human experience. It has been found impossible -to present the doctrine of endless punishment after the manner of an -earlier age. Many causes have combined to deepen the sense of mystery -in which is enveloped the destiny of man, and there has been begotten -in consequence an unwillingness to dogmatize where in earlier times -such a reluctance was not felt. In this connection may be mentioned -two religious bodies, which took their rise about the beginning of the -century—Universalism, proclaiming ultimate salvation for all men; and -Unitarianism, asserting the dignity of man and his divine endowment. -But in all the Churches alike has the same humanizing force been felt, -leading to efforts in theological reconstruction in order to make -it apparent that the primary truths of Christianity are not merely -arbitrary principles or arrangements unrelated to life and to the needs -of the soul, but that in their essential quality there is conformity -with the larger reason of humanity, with that feeling for the inherent -worth of things out of which reason proceeds, and with which its -conclusions must conform. - - -II - -Thus far the humanitarian sentiment has been regarded in its -combination with Christian faith, and as giving new force and -distinction to Christian life and thought. But, on the other hand, it -must now be noted that the same force working apart from the Church, -and often in opposition to it, has been a limitation to Christian -progress. In the French Revolution humanitarianism was associated with -a negative, destructive tendency, which overthrew the Church, disowned -God and immortality, and set up in the place of deity a so-called -Goddess of Reason. This negative tendency has continued to exist and -has found influential manifestation. It has attempted the deification -of humanity, as though the human race were worthy in itself of being -an object of worship. It has exalted man at the expense of God, -conceiving of humanity as alone immortal, as competent to steer its own -course without supernatural direction. It has weakened the sense of -nationality, has injured and endangered family life, has taken away the -highest sanctions from morality, and has reduced religion from being a -revelation from God to a purely subjective process in the soul of man, -worthy of respect, but without authority. It has created an abnormal -sensitiveness in many directions. It has swayed socialistic movements -aiming at the rights of man and seeking to achieve universal happiness, -but with an antagonism sometimes latent, sometimes expressed, to God -and Christ and the Christian Church. The prejudice remains which -had its birth in the French Revolution, that religion is a creation -of priests for their own selfish ends, and the Church an agency for -robbing humanity of its rights, liberty, equality, and fraternity. - -Principles and convictions like these found utterance in the philosophy -of Comte (1789–1857), who called himself the “founder of the religion -of humanity,” and who proposed the scheme of a humanitarian Church, -limited by no national boundaries, whose only deity was man, whose -ritual found a place only for great men who had been the benefactors -of the race. Theology and metaphysics were discarded as outgrown -methods of explaining the phenomena of the universe, and in the place -they vacated stood the so-called “Positive philosophy” which rejected -all supernatural influence. The Church of humanity had, indeed, no -history and was a failure from its birth. But the combination, first -seen in Comte, of humanitarianism with the methods and principles of -natural science, has been the most formidable opponent against which -Christianity was ever called to struggle. It has been represented in -England by John Stuart Mill and by Herbert Spencer and many others. To -the influential writings of this school of thinkers is due in great -measure the widespread, deep-seated scepticism since the middle of -the century. To the same cause, by way of reaction, are owing the -spiritualistic movement, the so-called “Christian Science” and other -kindred tendencies towards a crude supernaturalism. - -Those who entered the controversy in behalf of Christianity and against -the adherents of the Positive philosophy suffered at first for the -lack of any adequate philosophical method on which to rest in the -effort to overcome this stupendous alliance between a humanitarianism -working for the improvement of social conditions in combination with -natural science, whose postulates involved the denial of the miracle, -and indeed of all supernatural agency (agnosticism). It seemed for a -time as though the philosophy of Hegel would serve the purpose of a -stronghold to which Christian warriors might resort while in the stress -of a conflict which involved not only the readjustment of Christian -doctrines to their new environment, but also the maintenance of the -idea of God, of the kingdom of God in this world and of a future life -for the immortal soul. In Germany systems of theology were worked -out on the basis of Hegelian principles, which, as interpreted by -orthodox theologians, stood for a principle of surpassing value if -it could be maintained—that the life of humanity, while dependent in -the present order on physical conditions, was yet above the life in -external nature with which the natural sciences deal; that the very -definition of humanity implies the power of rising to the knowledge of -God. Nature has no knowledge or consciousness of God, or intimation -of immortality. It is in bondage to natural law and without freedom. -The life of humanity must not be studied from the point of view of -natural science, but is seen in the records of human history. The -influence of Hegel deepened the interest in historical inquiry at a -moment when the absorption in the natural sciences threatened to gain -the ascendency. But the Hegelian philosophy, for reasons which it is -not possible here to render, failed to accomplish the service expected -from it. It may be that the failure was temporary only, and because -it was not fully understood. There arose a school of thinkers—the -Hegelian left wing—who, while retaining their interest in history, -yet fell under the influence of the presuppositions of the natural -sciences. Thus Strauss, in his _Leben Jesu_, conceived of the person of -Christ as a casual product of the human imagination, while Feuerbach, -in his _Essence of Christianity_, reached the conclusion that religion -begins and ends in a subjective process in the soul. Thus, instead of -overcoming the Positive philosophy, German thought gravitated to the -same result, with this difference perhaps, that it assumed the form -of pantheism rather than of atheism. In the Tübingen school, led by -F. C. Baur, whose contributions to the study of Church history are yet -of high value, there was reserve about the miracle, if not its tacit -denial, and a conception of the Christian Church as a product of human -origin rather than the purpose of Christ. - -But the effect of Strauss was beneficial in that it sent inquirers -back to the study of the person of Christ and of His age. Never before -was attention so concentrated upon the life of Jesus, as illustrated in -a large number of biographical works, too large to be enumerated here. -As a result of these studies, the conviction grows that while there -is a local aspect of the person of Christ, so that He reflected the -peculiar opinions and living interests of His age, and availed Himself -of current beliefs, yet He was also infinitely above His time. What He -was and did and said in Palestine nineteen hundred years ago must be -supplemented by what He has been to the world in subsequent ages, or -what He is and is doing in the present age. - -While Christian thinkers were struggling with the problems raised by -the Positive philosophy, the natural sciences were commanding in an -increasing degree the world’s attention, until Darwin made his great -discovery of a law of evolution, when it seemed as though natural -science had become the arbiter and final tribunal before whose -judgments the world must bow. Then there followed the sharp, even -bitter conflict between science and theology, when scientific men whose -lives had been spent in devotion to the study of natural phenomena -were tempted to write expositions of religious history in order to -show the fallaciousness of the religious attitude, and theologians, -accustomed only to the postulates of the spiritual sphere, ventured -into the domain of science to put a spiritual interpretation on its -conclusions and discoveries. It was a confusing and painful moment -when a subtle scepticism pervaded the Churches and haunted even the -minds of Christian believers. Now that the smoke of the battle has -cleared away, while many tragedies are disclosed, it does not appear -that the Churches have been weakened by the strife or have yielded any -essential truth or conviction. The belief in God, and in his creation -and government of the world, the incarnation of God in Christ, the -miracle for which Christ stands, and pre-eminently the miracle of His -resurrection—in a word, the supernatural interpretation of life, -remains unshaken. It is unjust to charge, as has sometimes been done, -dishonesty and a spirit of evasion against those who, while the fierce -battle was in progress, kept silence, unable to defend by cogent -argument what yet they cherished still as true. - -In the latter part of the century there came efforts at the -reconstruction of theology in order to a better adjustment of the -increase of knowledge regarding the nature of God and His relation -to the world. The doctrine of God as immanent in the world, and not -only transcendent or above and apart from it, has proved valuable in -reconciling many of the discoveries of history and of natural science -with the Christian faith. Efforts have also been made to simplify -theology by the reduction of the large and complex, even conflicting, -mass of Christian tenets and beliefs, given in history or represented -in various Christian sects, to a few simple principles in which all -must agree, resting for their confirmation not on metaphysics, but on -the genuine Christian instincts as revealed in the New Testament. There -has been attained also a better philosophical method for meeting the -difficulties and perplexities of the age. - -But these attempts at the better interpretation of revealed religion, -and the formation of more consistent theological systems, have found -a temporary rival in efforts to create, first of all, a better system -of “natural theology,” as it may be called, which shall take account -of the doctrine of evolution and other discoveries of natural science -since Paley’s time and the day of the Bridgewater Treatises. Those -who aim at a reconciliation of religion with science treat the idea -of evolution as a mediating principle by which the conflict between -science and religion may be overcome. This effort is the more -significant, in view of the popular interest in evolution—a word -which has become almost the watchword of the age. From this point of -view the invasion of religious territory by scientific men (Huxley, -Tyndale, Haeckel, and others), and the counter-invasion of scientific -territory by philosophers and theologians, give promise of some mutual -understanding in the future. - - -III - -It remains now to turn to another most potent motive which has -affected the fortunes of religion in the nineteenth century. It may -be called Nationalism, meaning by the term that higher conception of -the life of the state or nation, slowly but most effectively asserting -itself throughout the nineteenth century, never apart from religious -convictions, always indeed in their support and furtherance. In -illustration of this point, we turn again to the French Revolution, -as giving the momentum, both directly and by way of reaction, to -the conception of the sacredness of the state, as an ultimate fact -in God’s government of the world. In that fearful outburst of the -French people, their long pent-up indignation was vented no less -against the state than against the Church—the one a device of kings -and lawgivers for holding mankind in subjection, as the other was a -scheme for the same end by a designing priesthood. The humanitarian -sentiment received in consequence at this impressive moment a direction -of antipathy to nationality as an evil to be overcome, or at least -to be kept in subjection to some higher principle, if the rights of -man were to be secured. Something even of this negative mood entered -into the formation of the American Constitution, where there is to -be noted a singular omission of any reference to Deity as the author -and preserver of the national life. On the continent of Europe there -was the phenomenon of Napoleon building on the ruins of the French -Revolution, while yet preserving the destructive motives which inspired -it. Napoleon revived the dream of empire, in whose expansive embrace -the nations of Europe were to be subordinated, if not suppressed -altogether. He proposed to reconstruct the map of Europe, as though -nationalities and crowns were purely human artificial arrangements to -be disposed of at his sovereign pleasure. - -The failure of the French nation, its demonstrated inability to do -the proper work of a state, as well as the fact that the career of a -Napoleon was possible, indicates inherent weakness in all the nations -of Europe at the beginning of the nineteenth century. They existed -either in repose, and even stagnation, after the long turmoil of the -age of the Protestant Reformation, averse to change, distrustful of -enthusiasm, or were content to strive for purely selfish aims. In -accordance with the principle that the people existed for the state, -rulers followed their personal whims, indifferent to moral sanctions, -heedless of the growing evils calling aloud for redress. Such in -particular was the condition in France. It was better in England, but -even there the same tendency existed, manifested in the unnecessary -alienation of the American colonies. However this may be, there has -been a reaction against nationality during the nineteenth century. -The nations have been forced to struggle against this opposition, -and through the struggle they have attained their rebirth, their -purification. - -The subject is connected with the fortunes of religion in many ways. -The indifference to nationality, the distrust of the nation as -incompetent for the exigencies of life, the placing of an abstract -humanity as an ideal above nationality, so that to labor directly for -the interests of humanity apart from the well-being of the nation, -and even in its defiance, became the motive of reformers—these -characteristics, when seen in the religious sphere, have led to a -reaction against the various forms of Protestantism, and especially as -represented in the state Churches. The Roman Catholic Church, which in -all its history has subordinated national distinctions to the higher -interests of a common Christendom, had fallen into inefficiency in -the eighteenth century, and was no longer reckoned a force worthy of -consideration, either by religious thinkers or by statesmen. But in the -first third of the nineteenth century there came a change, when the -Roman Church arose from its lethargy to meet the demand imposed upon -it by the timid fears of statesmen and ecclesiastics, as the safeguard -of religion and morality, where national Churches or particular -Churches were thought to have failed. The Napoleonic aspiration after -universal empire and the frantic effort to realize it by rearranging -or suppressing nationalities has its counterpart in the religious -world in the effort to restore a Christian empire with the Papacy at -its head, as in the Middle Ages. The effect of this ambition may be -seen in Germany and other countries, but is most clearly manifest in -England, where the Oxford Movement (1833) appears as an unnational, if -not anti-national, uprising in behalf of some imperfectly conceived -cosmopolitan Church designated as “Catholicity.” The date of the -“Movement,” as Newman fixed it, was Keble’s sermon on the “Apostacy of -the National Church.” This same feeling, that national existence is -inferior in importance to humanitarian reforms or to the expression of -religion in some other shape than in any particular or national Church, -has been shown in the break with the Established Church in Scotland, or -in the difficulties experienced in Germany in consolidating the forms -of Protestantism in a strong state Church, or in the aspirations after -some universal form of religion to be accomplished by a parliament of -religions. Beneath these various schemes there is the common principle -that humanity is a worthier object of devotion than the state, and -constitutes a higher ideal in whose cause to labor. This conviction, it -may be added, has been strengthened vastly by the extraordinary way in -which, during the nineteenth century, the whole world has been brought -together by the material forces of steam and electricity. - -That there is here a great truth no one can deny, but the point to -be noticed now is that nationality has been at a disadvantage in the -competition with humanity. Out of the necessities of the situation -there has been born the spirit of a deeper inquiry into the place and -significance of the nation as the indispensable medium by which the -highest result can be secured for the world at large. Thus we have -the studies in this direction of German students, Hegel and Stahl, -Trendelenburg and Bluntschli, Maurice in England, and in America -Mulford in his book _The Nation_, all of them combating the motive of -Comte and setting forth the essential, even the eternal, significance -of nationality. The ancient doctrine is still preserved that the people -exist for the state, but it is justified on the ground that the state -also exists for the people, for the freedom of the individual man, so -that through the state the rights of man are better subserved and more -securely guaranteed than by an exclusive one-sided devotion to the -cause of an abstract humanity. - -As the nineteenth century drew to its close, it became increasingly -apparent that the nations had emerged from the depression in which -they were found when the century opened. America may be said to -have attained the consciousness of nationality in its highest form -in consequence of the Civil War, and to have entered from that time -upon a new career. In that awful conflict, whose origin dates back to -the rise of the anti-slavery movement, may be discerned the issue of -the century—humanitarianism, on the one hand, contending for the -rights of man, careless, if need be, for the national unity if only -a great reform could be secured; and on the other hand, the nation, -slowly realizing that slavery was a force hostile to national unity -and integrity, and on this ground demanding its suppression. The two -attitudes in this instance appear organically related, while yet -they spring from distinct and separate motives. In 1870 Germany and -Italy took their places in the family of nations. Nor should there be -omission to mention Greece, which, after its subsidence for hundreds of -years, again attained its national independence. - -It has become further apparent that it is to the Protestant nations, -America, England, and Germany, that the leading place must be conceded, -together with the determination of the world’s fortunes. And to -these must be added Russia, which is also outside the pale of Latin -Christianity. Those nations remaining in alliance with the Papacy are, -for the present at least, in an inferior position. - -The triumphant assertion of the spiritual significance of nationality -in the latter part of the nineteenth century has made it further -apparent that the forces working for religion, and especially for -its Protestant forms, were stronger than the forces in opposition. -The nation enters the arena of the controversy as a spiritual force, -assuming as a first principle the existence of God and His supernatural -government of the world. Never was this truth more impressively -illustrated than in the experience of Lincoln, who, when he became -President of the United States in the supreme crisis of its history, -ceased to be indifferent to religion and passed into a devout belief -in the mysterious control of the destiny of the nation by a sovereign, -omnipotent hand. As the indifference to nationality was among the -causes of religious doubt and of the weakness in the Churches in the -middle of the century, so the triumphant assertion of nationality has -contributed to turn the tide towards theistic belief and the Christian -faith. - -To give a full exposition of the inner relationship of the nation to -religion and the Churches is not possible here, but some remarks may be -offered which will tend to illustrate their organic connection. - -(1) In any large historical survey the nation appears as guided by -religious leaders. Religion is seen to have flourished in proportion -as the nation is conscious of its strength and destiny. When the -Roman Empire broke down the nationalities and merged them in a large -composite unity, it broke down also religious faiths, and its own -religion as well, till scepticism was the result and a consequent -immorality. All attempts to build up religion on the basis of empire, -as distinct from nationality, ended in failure. - -(2) The Christian religion tended from the first to break up the empire -and to restore nationality. Ultimately it became manifest that the -cause which undermined the Roman Empire and accomplished its downfall -was the Christian Church. In its Eastern half the empire was resolved -into nationalities. In the West a Church, Latin Christendom, rose upon -its ruins, but within this Latin Christendom the spirit of nationality -began at once to work, forcing its way against the opposition of -the Papacy, till, in the age of the Protestant Reformation, when -nationality was felt as a conscious motive, it sundered Latin -Christendom into fragments. - -(3) The Old Testament in its form as a whole is simply the history of -a nation from its birth through all its fortunes. Never did religion -rise to a diviner and fuller expression than under the realization of -the conviction that God was protecting the nation and determining its -career. The Hebrew prophets were primarily statesmen, devoted to the -nationality, as the incarnation of the divine will, in whose fortunes -were revealed the divine purpose. Any nation which has not the similar -conviction that it is the chosen people of God, and called to some -important task, cannot maintain its independence and integrity, and has -no future. This conviction to-day inspires the leading nations of the -world. - -(4) The nation mediates between humanitarianism and individualism. In -serving its own ends and seeking to accomplish its mission, it works -for the good of all, and also for the freedom of the individual man. -The tendency of humanitarianism as a motive apart from the higher life -of the state, or apart from its impersonation in Christ as its head and -leader, is to weaken individualism and to defeat the very end it wishes -to subserve, the achievement of the rights of man. Humanity as a whole -lacks the visible, tangible embodiment of the nation. It has not yet -the consciousness of itself nor of its unity. It cannot respond to the -needs it awakens. It does not, as a whole, realize its relationship to -God, nor is it placed in such a position as to make it feel the need -of God. It is in danger of becoming an abstraction in so far as it -exists without relationships. But the nation is close at hand, near, -and felt as a moral personality or being, seeking ideal ends which are -also within the bounds of possibility. Humanity as a whole undertakes -no enterprises which make it tremble as it comes to unknown, trackless -seas. But when the nation comes to great crises, where human wisdom -is powerless to direct its course, it falls back instinctively and by -necessity upon the belief in the guidance of God. Thus the nation as a -whole appears in a higher form of personality than individual men can -achieve, even the greatest men, and so prepares the way for the belief -in the still higher, the invisible, infinite personality of God. - -(5) The nation as a moral personality and depending upon God becomes -the safeguard of morals. If there has been a decline in morality in the -nineteenth century, as some maintain, shown in the general weakening -of moral sanctions, or by the increase of divorce and indifference to -the sacredness of family life, it must be attributed in some measure -to the indifference to nationality from the time that political -liberalism resting on an abstract humanitarianism, or in combination -with a scientific naturalism, gained the ascendency. So far as this -tendency has in any degree invaded the Christian Church it has been -powerless to effect a change for the better. The great men whom -humanity is directed to worship do not constitute a moral standard, -nor can scientific postulates be made a basis for moral culture; for -nature is at least unmoral, if not, as some assert, immoral, and it is -only as acted upon by man that nature gives response to the increasing -purpose of the world. Religious truths—the personality of God, His -creation and government of the world, immortality, and the freedom -of the will—these are shattered, we are told, “by the great eternal -iron laws of the universe,” or “are in hopeless contradiction with the -most solid truths of empirical science.” And so, it must be added, -are the sanctions of ethics and moral law. It is when we turn to the -state, to the moral personality of the nation, that we encounter other -laws and living forces which restore what an empirical science or a -transcendental humanitarianism has broken down. Here the supreme test -is spiritual—the well-being of the nationality. The state must build -upon the family as its corner-stone; it must enforce those moral laws -which the history of nations, as well as human experience in its best -estate, reveal to be the inmost expression of the normal life of man. - -The beginning of a new century may seem like an artificial division -of time, but the self-consciousness with which the nineteenth century -closed, the efforts at introversive estimates of its place in history -and of the work it had accomplished, indicate something more than a -conventional barrier to be passed. Prophecies in regard to the new -age may be futile, for God reserves to Himself the knowledge of the -future. But it is much if we can to any extent read the meaning of the -past and detect the sources of its strength and weakness. And for the -rest, Christian faith and hope are inextinguishable, looking forward to -the fulfilment of the Christian ideal—that higher unity where Christ -appears as the embodiment of humanity and the voice of its yearning for -a perfect brotherhood; where the nation also acknowledges Him as its -overlord, so that, in the words of Christian prophecy, the kingdoms of -this world shall become the kingdom of our God and of His Christ. In -that ideal conception, the _dominium_ belongs to the state, and the -_ministerium_ to the Christian Church. - - ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN. - - - - -THE JEWS AND JUDAISM - - -The opening years of the nineteenth century found the Jew blinded -by the light of a new sun, the rays of which were beating upon the -Ghetto and were forcing him to take off, one by one, the many garments -with which he had clothed himself during the hostile Middle Ages. For -the Jew these Middle Ages did not end with the Reformation and the -Renaissance; but only disappeared in the transformation brought about -gradually by the French Revolution. The beginning of the twentieth -century sees him putting on some of these garments again, and trying -to save his own warmth from being lost in the coldness of the outside -world. During this period the Jew has passed through more upheavals -than many nations have during three or four times the number of years. -What outward struggles has he not been called upon to experience; -through what alternating seasons of joy and sorrow has he not passed! -What changes even within his own body has he not sustained! The modern -European and American world has had a hard fight to find its way into -its present changed condition; but much harder by far was the task -laid upon the Jew; and, whether he has succeeded or not, he has made -an honest fight. Evidences of the struggle abound on every hand, and -the road is strewn with many a dead hope and many a lost opportunity. -The Jew was bound more firmly to ancient traditions; and so interwoven -were these ancient traditions with his whole being that the new life -into which he came had of necessity to be blended with the old. The -tale of the Jew of the nineteenth century is a record of his endeavor -to do justice to the two demands which were made upon him: the one from -the outside world—to fit himself to take his place worthily and do -his work side by side with the other citizens of the state in which he -lived; the other from within his own ranks—to harmonize his religious -belief with his new point of view and to adapt his religious exercises -to modern social conditions. - - -EMANCIPATION OF THE JEWS - -The struggle of the Jews in the various European countries for civil -rights and for equality before the law was long drawn out, and was -marked by varying fortunes dependent upon the political conditions of -these countries. More than seventy years of the century had passed -before this struggle had been fought out. Though it is true that a -beginning was made in Germany and Austria (1750 and 1781), to France -belongs the honor of having been the first to really do away with -the mass of anti-Jewish legislation which the centuries preceding -had piled up. On the 27th of September, 1791, the National Assembly -at one stroke removed all the disabilities under which the Jews -had been living—distinctive dress, special Jew’s oath, Jew’s tax, -forced residence in certain localities, etc. From France, and under -the influence which that country then exercised, the emancipation of -the Jews spread to Belgium and Holland, and to some of the states -of Germany; but the rest of Europe was not yet ready for this -emancipation. The reaction which marks the period between 1814 and -1848 made itself felt upon the Jews, restoring, in many places, the -disabilities under which they had formerly lived. The “Judengassen” -became once more inhabited, and the principles of freedom and -liberty for all members of the state seemed to have been wellnigh -forgotten. The Revolution of 1830 stayed the downward course in some -of the German states; but it was not until 1848 that the second great -period in Jewish emancipation came about. In the breaking down of old -institutions it was natural that the exceptional laws against the Jews -should go also. The German Parliament of 1848, at Frankfort, forcefully -proclaimed the doctrine of religious liberty; and of this parliament -a Jew, Gabriel Riesser, was vice-president. But it was not until the -formation of the German Empire, in 1871, that the emancipation of the -Jews, which had gradually made its way in the various states, was -carried through for the whole of that empire. In 1867, a decree was -issued in Austria by virtue of which all citizens were declared equal -before the law, and in 1870 the walls of the Ghetto fell in Rome. In -1874, Jews were admitted to the rank of citizens in Switzerland. In -1878, the Congress of Berlin, the leading spirit of which (Disraeli) -was of the Jewish race, demanded equal rights for the Jews living in -the Balkan Peninsula. These rights were accorded by the various states -there, with the exception of Roumania; which, in spite of the treaty -and in spite of the promises made at the time, still continues to -refuse to allow the Jews living within its borders to become citizens -or to treat them as an integral part of the population. In Turkey the -laws which put certain restrictions upon non-Mohammedan citizens were -sensibly changed in 1839; so that the Jews living in the dominions of -the Sultan suffer from no exceptional legislation. - -The cause of Jewish emancipation in England suffered no such sudden -changes as it did on the continent. It proceeded by regular stages -through the abrogation of the Act of Test in 1828, the admission -of Jews as citizens of London in 1830, as sheriffs in 1835, as -magistrates in 1845, and in 1858 as members of Parliament by the -removal of the words “upon the faith of a Christian” in the oath taken -by the members. There can be no doubt that the emancipation in England, -though long drawn out and fiercely contested, was more effective than -anywhere else, owing to the fact that it was progressive in character -and based upon the idea of rights demanded and not upon that of favors -granted. Nothing was asked of the Jews in England other than that they -be good citizens of the state; while the whole continental legislation -regarding them, from the time of Napoleon on, had on the part of the -legislators only one object in view—to break up the cohesion of -the Jews as a body and to pave the way for their disappearance as a -distinctive group. The idea that emancipation was a favor and not a -right brought it about that the Jews themselves aided in their own -disintegration. They believed that it was their duty to show themselves -more patriotic than were the other citizens of the state in which they -lived, as they were receiving greater favors. And so, even though Jews -have sat in the parliaments of various continental states, they have -with few exceptions steadfastly refused to acknowledge themselves to -be in any way representatives of their brethren, and in some cases -(notably in France) during the last few years have either remained -supinely indifferent when Jewish questions were before their several -parliaments, or have even aided those whose agitation was directed -against their fellow-Jews. In England, on the contrary, the Jewish -members of Parliament have never forgotten that, in addition to -their interests as citizens of England, they have a duty to perform -to the Jews, whom they also represent, and they have therefore been -able, while giving their best services to the state, to be also -useful to their co-religionists. It may be due to this cause that the -emancipation of Jews on the continent has in no way been able to stem -the recrudescence of anti-Semitism; while it has undoubtedly done this -in England. The opposite effect is most clearly seen in Algiers, where -the wholesale emancipation of the Jews in 1870, through the efforts -of Crémieux, that bold champion of his people, has in a large measure -contributed to make the riots possible which have in late years been -witnessed in that French colony. Neither the population of Algeria nor -the Jews there were at that time ready for such a measure; it did not -therefore come as the result of a development among the people, but as -something imposed upon them by the government. - -In addition to Roumania, Russia is practically the only country which -has refused to enter the European concert, and which by means of laws -and ordinances represents still the dark period of the Middle Ages. -It has turned the provinces on its western borders into a tremendous -Ghetto, and driven the Jews to exile by making life within that pale -practically impossible. Even Portugal in 1821, and Spain in 1868 (the -two countries from which the Jews had been banished for a great number -of years), opened their doors to them once more; though few Jews have -ventured to return to the Peninsula, despite the fact that in 1886 a -committee was formed in Madrid for the promotion of Jewish immigration -into Spain. - - -THE WANDERING JEW - -The Wandering Jew is not the Jew of legend, but the Jewish people -of history. The dislocation of large Jewish bodies, which was -characteristic of the Middle Ages, has been kept up during the -nineteenth century; and this dislocation has, as in former times, -profoundly modified Judaism in the various countries. From the -fifteenth century on to the nineteenth, hostile legislation on the -part of Western Europe had been continually driving the Jews to -the East. The expulsion from Spain and Portugal, at the end of the -fifteenth century, forced several hundred thousand into Turkey; while -the hardships which they had to suffer in the smaller German states -and in Austria caused large numbers to seek a refuge in Poland and -Russia. The tide commenced to turn westward about the middle of -the eighteenth century, though bands of Jews from Poland had been -driven into Germany, Italy, and Holland in the terrible years of the -Chmelnicki persecutions (1648–1651). The readmission of Jews into -England, the relative kindness of Frederick William of Prussia and of -Frederick the Great, aided a certain slow but continuous infiltration -from Poland, so that at the end of the eighteenth or the first half -of the nineteenth century these Polish Jews were to be found in all -parts of Germany, Holland, and England. This slow migration back again -to Western Europe took on, however, much larger proportions in the -latter part of the nineteenth century; but before this could happen a -strong movement still farther westward had already taken place. Jews -were among the earliest settlers on the American continent. They were -in nearly every case of Spanish or Portuguese descent, having come -from Holland and England to the possessions which these powers held on -the new continent. In the middle of the nineteenth century, when the -tide of immigration from Germany was at its height, a large number of -Jews from the southern states and the Rhine region found their way to -these shores. The Russian atrocities of 1882 and the following years -caused a greater shifting of the Jewish population westward than can be -paralleled at any previous time. It has been estimated that between the -years 1882 and 1900 fully one million Russian Jews left their homes -in the pale of settlement, finding new dwelling-places in England, -Germany, and France. The largest number (probably half a million) came -to the United States and Canada. Untoward economic conditions existing -in Galicia, and the frequent outbreaks of anti-Semitism there, forced -out during the 90’s a large number of Galician Jews; and in 1899 and -1900 the hostility of the Roumanian government has made it impossible -for thousands of Jews to remain in a country in which most of them had -been born; and, under circumstances the like of which has hardly ever -before been seen, bands of the Roumanian Jews have been wandering over -Europe, seeking the means by which to come to the American continent -in order there to establish themselves anew. There are between ten and -eleven million Jews to-day in the world: of these, about nine million -live in Europe; one million in the United States and Canada; three -hundred and fifty thousand in Africa; three hundred and fifty thousand -in Asia; and sixteen thousand in Australasia. - - -COMMUNAL ORGANIZATION - -All these changed circumstances variously modified the organization -of the Jewish communities. Napoleon’s attempt in 1807, as the result -of the Sanhedrin which he had convened in Paris, to found this -organization upon a modern basis, dividing the Jews of France into -certain consistories and arrondissements, had an effect not only upon -France, but also upon those countries which for a time were under his -influence (Holland, Belgium, etc.), and even upon many of the German -states. In 1808 such consistories were established in Westphalia and -Cassel; in 1809, an Oberrath was created in Baden; and in 1828 and 1831 -an Oberkirchenbehoerde in Würtemberg. It was due also to Napoleon that -in France and Germany the Jews were obliged to adopt family names, -they having, in most cases, still retained the Oriental custom of -simply adding to their own prænomen that of their father. Prussia was -the only one of the German states which was not so affected. There the -state exercises a supervisory influence, compelling all the Jews to be -members of the Jewish community, but in no way further regulating the -communal life. When the Reform tendencies commenced to make themselves -felt in the larger Jewish communities, the Orthodox members safeguarded -their own interests by making use of the law passed in 1873, mainly -through the efforts of the Jew Lasker, which enabled the people to -declare themselves “confessionslos” and form their own synagogues, -thus nearing in a measure the system followed in English-speaking -countries. In England and America no such organization was effected, -as the state does not there take cognizance of the religious belief of -the people. In both these countries attempts have been made by the Jews -themselves to organize under one head upon a purely religious basis, -but without much success. In France there is a Chief Rabbi of the -Jews who is recognized by the state as their rabbi and head. But the -Chief Rabbi of the Jews in the British Empire, though he is nominally -the head of the Jews in the kingdom, has no actual position as such, -and is even not recognized by certain schools of Jews themselves. The -Sefardim, or descendants of Spanish and Portuguese Jews, have always -kept themselves distinct, and have their own Chief Rabbi, or Haham. In -the year 1840, the more liberal-minded element among the London Jews -cut themselves loose from the United Synagogue and formed a Reform -party, their example being followed in Manchester and Bradford. Neither -they nor the recent immigrants from Russia, who have formed their own -“Federation of Synagogues” recognize the authority of the Chief Rabbi. -This more congregational system has been carried to its utmost limits -in the United States, where each congregation is a law unto itself and -absolutely rejects any interference on the part of any larger body. -From time to time a desire has been manifested to supersede this purely -congregational system by some form of union. The late Dr. Isaac M. -Wise, of Cincinnati, had at various times attempted to bring the Jews -of the United States together with an authoritative synod at their -head. Out of this and other attempts have come the Central Conference -of American Rabbis and The Union of American Congregations (founded -in 1873), which now comprises about ninety-one congregations. These -organizations, however, do not by any means represent either all of -the Jewish ministers or all of the Jewish congregations, and the Union -itself is merely a deliberative body having no power to do anything in -the internal affairs of one of its constituent synagogues. Since the -union of American Jewish congregations comprises only such as stand -upon a Reform platform, a union of Orthodox congregations was formed in -New York two or three years ago, and it is hoped that this organization -will do much towards binding together the very many congregations of -those who adhere strictly to traditional Judaism. - -But the organization of Jews as a church has not been found sufficient. -Spread over so large a portion of the earth and coming under such -varying influences, it was inevitable that the theological differences -which already existed should grow apace, and a great cleavage be made -between the Orthodox and the Reform wing of the synagogue. It was early -felt that some more secular bond must be found which should unite the -Jews of various persuasions for common and concerted action. The first -attempt in this direction was nobly made by Narcisse Leven, Eugene -Emanuel, Charles Netter, and a few others, in founding (1880) the -“Alliance Israélite Universelle” in Paris, whose object it was to aid -in removing Jewish disabilities wherever they might exist, and to raise -the spiritual condition of their coreligionists in Northern Africa, -Eastern Europe, and Western Asia by the founding of schools. From these -small beginnings the Alliance has grown to be an important factor in -the conservation of Jewish interests. Faithful to its programme, it has -established a large number of elementary and technical schools, and -has intervened actively in Algeria, Morocco, the Turkish Empire, and -Persia whenever Jews or Jewish interests were in any way threatened. -Its attempt, however, to represent the whole Jewish people has not -been successful; for the reason that it has been allied too closely -with French national interests; and side by side with the “Alliance -Française” it has been an active propagandist of the French language -and of French culture in the East. This one-sidedness of its work is -best seen in the fact that by its side similar organizations have -been created in other countries, “The Board of Delegates of American -Israelites” in the United States, “The Anglo-Jewish Association” in -England, “The Israeli-tisch Alliance” in Austria, and the “Deutsche -Gemeindebund” in Germany. At one time it was hoped that the B’nai -B’rith, established in this country in 1843, by Isidor Busch, -Julius Bien, and others, would form such a union of Jews, where the -theological differences would be eliminated. But though this order, -which has 315 lodges in, the United States and Canada, has established -itself in such countries as Germany, Roumania, Austria, Algeria, -Bulgaria, and Egypt, and despite the good work it has so far done, the -mere fact that it is a secret organization prevents it from standing -forth as the representative of international Jewry. Where, then, and -in what manner is such a body to be found? - - -ECONOMIC CONDITIONS - -The economic condition of the Jews in the large Eastern European -Ghettos is, naturally, extremely bad. Huddled together, either in -certain districts of large towns or in villages where they form the -greater part of the population, they are compelled to live off and -on each other. Crowded into certain walks of life by anti-Jewish -legislation or anti-Jewish sentiment, few of them can gain more than -sufficient to keep body and soul together. In Galicia it has been -estimated that five thousand Jews perish every year from typhus-fever. -The Jewish wax-miners in Boryslav, to take but one instance, were -forced out of the mines and reduced to utter starvation, for no other -reason but because they were Jews. The failure of the harvests in -Southern Russia during the last few years has reduced the wage-earners -in that part of the country to the position of dependants upon the -charity of others; but the Jews who live there in such large numbers do -not even benefit from the assistance sent by the government. Similar -conditions prevail almost continually in the rest of the Russian pale -and in Roumania. The standard of life has naturally been lowered among -these people and their general _morale_ has not come out of the trial -unscathed. - -Nor must it be forgotten that the violent dislocation of hundreds of -thousands of people, such as has taken place among the Jews during -the last quarter of the nineteenth century, has naturally disturbed -existing economic conditions, not only among the Jews themselves, -but also among those into whose midst they came. These outcasts from -Eastern Europe did not come to virgin soil as did the Pilgrim Fathers, -but to cities and towns which were already filled with a proletariat -engaged in the eager fight for life. The Jews of Berlin, Paris, London, -and New York, had their hands full with the proper care of the needy -ones already in their midst. - -It is a mistake to suppose that the Jews as a people are rich. The -proletariat among them is proportionately much larger than it is among -other people; and thus it came about that the Jewish quarters in all -the large cities were already well filled when they were (almost at a -moment’s notice) called upon to receive double or triple the number -they already held. The actual number of the Jewish poor was thereby -greatly increased; for many a family that had been wealthy or in easy -circumstances in Russia, Galicia, or Roumania, had been reduced to want -and been compelled to take its place among those who needed the help -of their brethren. This help was freely and cheerfully given all the -world over. Great sacrifices were made by the richer Jews to meet the -pressing needs of the hour, and, with no help from the outside world, -excepting the London Mansion House Fund in 1882, the thousands and -tens of thousands of immigrants were cared for. The Jewish charitable -organizations, the development of which has been during the latter -half of the nineteenth century the brightest spot in Jewish communal -life, rose to the demands of the occasion, and the more than princely -munificence of Baron and Baroness Maurice de Hirsch, in regard to the -Russian Jews, may justly be looked upon with pride. - -New Ghettos, however, were formed in nearly all the cities to which -these immigrants came; and this name for the habitat of the poorer -Jews became again familiar, aided by the popularity which some modern -novelists had given to it. In the Middle Ages and down to our own -time the Jews had been forced by the state to live apart in such -Ghettos; sometimes for their own protection, sometimes to preserve -the outside world from contact with them. The modern Ghetto is a -voluntary gathering of the Jews for the purpose of mutual help and -from a feeling of reciprocal obligations. To the outside observer it -presents an unsightly appearance; it is the abode of poor people, and -its population is usually strange in dress, manners, and speech. The -sweating system (which in one form or another is to be found in all -these Ghettos) has been a dreadful incentive towards grinding the face -of the poor; and the results of too great a hoarding are often quite -apparent; so that the general morality of the Jews in these Ghettos -has suffered in consequence. A people ignorant of the language of -their new home are a prey to the evil-intended, who make use of their -ignorance for their own commercial and political advancement. This has -been notably seen in the city of New York, where a lax city government -has permitted the vampires of society to fasten their fangs upon the -Ghetto and to produce conditions which call for the active interference -of all those forces which seek to stamp out crime and vice. But, on -the other hand, to one who is acquainted with the inner life of the -Ghetto the virtues which have hitherto characterized the Jews—industry -and sobriety—are still to be found there; much more frequently than -in those parts where the richer classes congregate, and whose wealth -enables them to withdraw their doings from the public gaze. Its members -are as industrious as bees in a hive; and though extremely litigatious, -drunkenness is unknown and actual crime is comparatively rare. - -In order to correct the abuses of the Ghetto, two things are absolutely -necessary—the increase of the actual number of Jews there must be -stopped, and the crowding into certain distinct fields of work must -be brought to an end. A determined effort has already been made to -force the new immigrants into less crowded parts of the land to which -they come. In this country this is being done by the United Hebrew -Charities, and notably by the B’nai B’rith. A distinct clannish feeling -has, however, to be overcome, and a fear of venturing into an unknown -country where the immigrant will be surrounded by people who do not -understand his peculiar social and religious customs. - -That the Jew has taken by preference to certain branches of trade -and work is due to the fact that anti-Jewish legislation has for -centuries closed many walks of life to him, and the guild organization -excluded him rigorously from many spheres of activity. Then, too, -his richly developed home life has induced a certain distaste for -occupations which take the wage-earner out of his home and away from -his family. That, however, these inherited instincts can easily -be overcome is clearly seen whenever the occasion offers. Even in -Amsterdam, where three-fourths of the diamond industry is in the -hands of Jews, there are to be found Jewish cobblers, cigar-makers, -plumbers, carpet-weavers, mattress-makers, watch-makers, etc. In -the East End of London there are, it is true, ten thousand Jews who -are engaged in the clothes-making trades, but the rest of the forty -thousand Jewish wage-earners of this quarter are scattered over all -possible branches of work—masonry, metal-working, textile industries, -furniture-making, cap-making, and the like. The same is true of New -York, where, although the number of Jews employed in the tailoring -industries is disproportionately large, the following list of Hebrew -unions shows how far afield the Jewish workman has gone: Cap-Makers, -Cap-Blockers, Shirt-Makers, Mattress-Makers, Purse-Makers, Liberty -Musical Union, Jewish Chorus Union, Jewellers’ Union, Tin-Smithers’ -Union, Bill-Posters, Waiters’ Alliance, Architectural Ironworkers, -Hebrew Typographical Union, Tobacco Cutters, Paper-Makers, Bookbinders. -The same is relatively true of all other countries where Jews live in -large numbers. - -It is a popular misconception that the Jew has an innate distaste for -agriculture. His continued commercial life, forced upon him for many -centuries, has, it is true, disaccustomed the Jew to the life of a -tiller of the soil. But the Jewish state was largely an agricultural -one; the legislation of the Bible and the later Law Books was clearly -intended for an agricultural people; and Jews have never shown an -unwillingness to return again to the soil. In Southern Russia there are -to-day 225 Jewish colonies with a population of 100,000. In Palestine -there are now more than twenty colonies with a population of more -than 5000, and similar agricultural colonies have been established -at various times in the United States, Canada, and the Argentine -Republic. In many cases, it is true, these colonies have not yet -become self-supporting, but this has been due in a large measure to -maladministration and to the peculiar conditions under which the -colonies were founded. - -It cannot be denied that a goodly part of the Jewish proletariat -belongs to the Socialist party. The whole Biblical system is in itself -not without a Socialist tinge; and the two great founders of the modern -system, Lasalle and Marx, were Jews. It is no wonder that in Russia -many of the leading anarchists were of the Jewish race, for the Jew -suffered there from the evils which Nihilism was intended to correct -ten times more than did his fellow-Russian. But the Jew is by nature -peace-loving; and under more favorable circumstances, and with the -opportunity of a greater development of his faculties, Socialism in his -midst has no very active life; the Jew very soon becoming an ardent -partisan of the existing state of affairs. - - -INTERNAL RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT - -The facility with which the Jews attach themselves to changed -circumstances stands out characteristically through their whole -history. It might, indeed, be said with some show of truth that this -pliability is the weak side in the Jewish character. The readiness of -the Jew to be almost anything and not simply his own self has been one -of the factors producing a certain ill will against him. Disraeli was -the most jingo of all imperialists in England; Lasker, the most ardent -advocate of the newly constituted German Empire. This pliability is the -result of the wandering life he has led and the various civilizations -of which he has been a part. He had to find his way into Hellenism -in Alexandria, into Moorish culture in Spain, into Slavism in Russia -and Poland. When the first wave of the modern spirit commenced to -break from France eastward over the whole of Europe, it reached the -Jew also. While in France the new spirit was largely political, in -Germany it was more spiritual. In its political form as well as in -its spiritual form it reacted not only upon the political condition -of the Jew, but especially upon his mental attitude. The new spirit -was intensely modern, intensely cosmopolitan, intensely Occidental, -and intensely inductive. The Jew had preserved to a great degree his -deductive, Oriental, particularistic, and ancient mode of thought and -aspect of life. The two forces were bound to meet. As a great oak is -met by the storm, so was Israel set upon by the fury of this terrible -onslaught. It is of interest to see in what manner he emerged from this -storm—whether he has been able to bend to its fury, to lose perhaps -some of his leaves and even some of his branches, but to change only -in such a way as to be able to stand upright again when the storm is -past. - -This great clash of ideas has produced what is known as the Reform -movement. It had its origin in Germany under the spiritual influences -of the regeneration of German letters produced by such men as Goethe, -Schiller, Herder, Lessing, and Mendelssohn. It was aided in a large -measure by the fact that the government in Germany, although distinctly -opposed to anything which militates against the established order of -things, mixes itself very seldom in the internal affairs of the Jewish -communities. This Reform movement has colored the religious development -of Judaism during the three-quarters of the century which is past. The -heat of the controversy is now wellnigh spent. Many of those who stood -in the front ranks have passed away, so that a more just estimate of -its value can be reached. It was a period of tremendous upheavals, of -great physical as well as mental pain. Many a congregation was split -in twain, many a family disrupted. At one time it looked as if two -distinct bodies of Jews would emerge from the struggle, and the union -of Israel be destroyed forever. A common enemy—anti-Semitism—joined -the two forces together for a common defence; and the danger of such a -split is now fairly a thing of the past. - -The latter half of the eighteenth century found the Jews of Middle -Europe at the lowest intellectual and social point they had up till -then reached. The effect of the long Jewish Middle Ages was plainly -visible. Few great minds lit up the darkness, and an intellectual -torpor seems to have spread its pall over everything. A passive -uniformity of practice prevailed in all the communities, whether -Sefardic (Spanish and Portuguese) or Ashkenazic (German and Polish); a -uniformity, because actual intellectual life had been made to run in -one single groove. The Talmud had been the great saving of Judaism in -the past. In the intellectual exercise which its study necessitated, -the mind of the Jew had been given a field in which it could rove at -will. Living apart from the rest of the world, with a wide jurisdiction -over his own affairs, Talmudic law in its latest development was still -the law supreme for the Jew. The Jewish Ghetto had everywhere the -same aspect; the language in common use was, in all the Ashkenazic -communities, the Judæo-German in one of its various forms. A certain -severity in evaluating those things which were part of the outside -world made itself felt. There was ample time and ample occasion for the -practice of all those forms and ceremonies with which the Judaism of -the Middle Ages had willingly and gladly fenced in the law. There had -been little occasion for the practice of the beautiful arts or for the -cultivation of letters. Life in the Ghetto was not necessarily gloomy, -but it was solemn. The law was not felt as a burden, but it required -the whole individual attention of those who bound themselves by it, -from early morn till late at night, from the cradle to the grave. There -was no place for things that come from outside, because there was no -time to devote to them. - -But the new European spirit in its French political form was knocking -hard at the gates of the Ghetto. Little by little it made its way -here and there, into all sorts of nooks and corners. It was bound in -time to be heard by some of those living behind these gates. The name -of Moses Mendelssohn is indissolubly connected with the history of -German Judaism during the latter part of the eighteenth century. It -was due to him that a vehicle was found which the new spirit could -use. Himself a strictly observant Jew, he felt the pulse of the new -era. The friend of Lessing and of Nicolai, he entered fully into the -revival which was then making itself felt. Through his translation of -the Pentateuch (1778, etc.) into High-German, he prepared the way for -the further introduction of German writings to the Jewish masses. This -was bound to bring with it a larger culture and a greater freedom of -thought. Many of his friends, such as Wessely, Hertz-Homberg, and David -Friedlander, stood by his side in this work. With the introduction -of the German language and German literature, better and more modern -schools were needed in which secular education should go hand in hand -with the former one-sided religious training. David Friedlander was the -first to found a school in the modern sense of the term; and he was -followed by Jacobson in 1801, at Seesen, Westphalia, and at Cassel, -and by Johlson, at Frankfort, in 1814. Between the years 1783 and 1807 -such modern Jewish schools arose in Germany, Austria, Denmark, France, -and even in Poland. Literature was cultivated, and the first Jewish -journal (though still in Hebrew) was published in Königsberg, 1783 -(_Hameassef_—the Collector). The _Gesellschaft der Freunde_, founded -in Berlin in 1792, was distinctly intended for the spread of this -modern culture; yet Mendelssohn’s own position was quite an untenable -one. He was a thoroughly Orthodox Jew in practice, but his mental -attitude was that of a modern German. He was and he was not a reformer. -He held that it mattered little what philosophical position a Jew held, -the Jew must observe all the ceremonies connected with the faith; these -were binding upon him by the mere fact of his having been born into the -Covenant. It is therefore no wonder that his translation was put under -the bann in Hamburg, Altona, Fuerth, Posen, etc. His friend Friedlander -wished to make of the synagogue a sort of Ethical Culture Society; -and Jacobson’s preaching in Berlin contained very little of what was -distinctly Jewish. The salons of Berlin, Königsberg, and Vienna, -which were presided over by brilliant women, who were more or less -immediate disciples of Mendelssohn, nurtured the cosmopolitan spirit -which was bound to be destructive of practical Judaism. That this fruit -on the Tree of Knowledge ripened too quickly is seen from the fact -that all the descendants of Mendelssohn, Friedlander, and others, led -astray by this cosmopolitan spirit and the philosophic presentation of -Christianity by Schleiermacher, have all become devoted members of the -Lutheran Church and have been completely lost to Judaism. - -It was natural that these new influences should influence also the -training of the modern rabbis. Secular education had been introduced -into primary schools, and in some places—as, for instance, Lombardy, -in 1820—the government demanded a certain amount of secular knowledge -from the candidates for rabbinical positions. The Jew also desired that -his leaders should have the same training as he gave his children, that -they should be educated in the same atmosphere in which he himself -had grown up. The old rabbinical seminaries, or Yeshibot, in which -the instruction was entirely on Talmudic lines, had already run their -course; the study had been found insufficient by the pupils themselves, -and the schools of Frankfort, Fuerth, Metz, Hamburg, and Halberstadt -had all been closed for want of students. The need of a modern seminary -was felt quite early during the century; and in 1809, a Lehrer-Seminar -was founded in Cassel. The earliest regular seminary for the training -of rabbis, however, was founded in Padua in 1829. In Germany attempts -had been made in the year 1840, but these attempts were unsuccessful. -The first modern seminary was not founded in Germany until the year -1854 (Breslau). Then followed Berlin, in 1872; Cincinnati, in 1873; -Budapest, in 1876. Similar institutions exist now in London, Paris, and -Vienna. - -In the first convulsions of the Mendelssohn period the way was paved -for the second period of the Reform movement which covers the first -quarter of the nineteenth century. The real issues touched the central -point of Jewish life, the synagogue. It is interesting to note that -during this period the chief questions were not so much theological as -æsthetic. The æsthetic side of life could not be largely cultivated in -the Ghetto; and the form of the service had greatly degenerated. In the -course of centuries, so many additional prayers and songs and hymns had -been added that the ritual was largely overburdened, and often tended -rather to stifle than bring out the religious sense they were intended -to conserve. Contact with the outside world created and fostered this -æsthetic sense, and the influences of the writings of such men as -Lessing and Mendelssohn was largely in this direction. As this æsthetic -sense made its way into the homes, so also did it carve out its way -into the synagogue. Demands were heard for a shorter service; for the -organ to accompany the chanting of the reader; for the German language -in some of the prayers and for the German sermon. Each point was -bitterly contested; for the Orthodox wing had before it the wholesale -apostasy of the Salon Jews. In order to introduce the vernacular into -the service and into the sermon, private synagogues were opened by -small coteries in Cassel (1809), Seesen (1810), Dessau (1812), and -Berlin (1815). In Southern Germany the use of the vernacular was -introduced between the years 1817 and 1818, also in Hungary through -the influence of Abraham Chorin. In some countries the government gave -its active aid. In Vienna, in 1820, German was made obligatory, and -as early as 1814 Danish in Copenhagen. The greatest changes, however, -were made in the Hamburg temple (under Kley and Salomon, 1818), where -not only the service was made more æsthetic and the German language -introduced, but certain prayers referring to the Messianic time were -either omitted or altered. No wonder, then, that the Orthodox rabbis -in Germany, with the support of the rabbis in various other countries, -protested against such a course. The government even looked askance -at these Reform proceedings, and in 1817 and 1823 ordered a number of -these private synagogues to be closed. A further cause for displeasure -was the introduction in 1814 of the confirmation of children in German, -to replace or supplement the old Barmitzvah, a clear imitation of the -ceremony in the Protestant Church of Germany. Despite opposition, -however, the confirmation found its way into Berlin, Hamburg, -Frankfort, Cassel, Copenhagen, etc. - -This æsthetic revolution in the synagogue could not, however, long -remain the only outward sign of the new life. The great weakness of -the Reform movement has been that it has lacked a philosophic basis; -and, as in its first beginnings, with the exception of Hamburg, it took -little note of the changed point of view from which those who fought -for reform looked at the old theological ideas. Æsthetic reform was the -work largely of individual persons and individual congregations. No -attempt had been made either to formulate the philosophic basis upon -which the reform stood, or to provide a body which should regulate the -form which the new order of things was to take on. Two attempts were -made to remedy these evils, both closely related one to the other. - -The first was crystallized in what is now known as the “Science of -Judaism”; by which is meant the untrammelled, scientific investigation -of the past history of the Jews. The want of this was severely felt -just in those centres where reform had taken up its abode; and those -who assisted at its birth did so with the avowed purpose of getting -at the real kernel of Judaism by such investigation, and of freeing -that kernel from the accretions of ages. They saw also that some means -had to be found by which the result of these researches could be -brought before the people. The Mendelssohn period had also felt this; -but its organ had been written in Hebrew, and could not, therefore, -appeal to those who wished for the intellectual advancement of the -Jews upon modern lines. The Society for Culture and the Science of -Judaism in Berlin (founded 1819) started a journal, with L. Zunz as -editor. Though it only lived during the years 1822 and 1823, it was the -forerunner and the model for many of its kind that followed after. In -1835 appeared Geiger’s _Scientific Journal for Jewish Theology_, and in -1837 a regular weekly was established by L. Philippson, the _Allgemeine -Zeitung des Judenthums_. Around these and other journals which quickly -sprang up there gathered a coterie of historians, philologists, and -students of literature which in the fifty years between 1830 and 1880 -has built up a science which has extended its investigations into every -corner of Jewish life in the past, and has followed to their sources -the various lines of development which have appeared from time to -time. A full estimate of what has been done will be apparent only when -the great Jewish Encyclopædia will be ready which is now in course of -publication in New York. Zunz, Geiger, Krochmal, Rapoport, Frankel, -Löw, Steinschneider, Graetz, Luzzatto, and Reggio are only a few of -the names of those who gave up their lives to this work. Most of the -early labor of these men was not dry-as-dust investigation pure and -simple, but was intended to have a bearing upon the actual life, upon -the burning questions which were then agitating Jewish thought. This -is clearly seen in the journal of which Zunz was editor, and in his -_Gottesdienstliche Vortraege_, the basis of nearly all the work done -after him, but which was evidently written to give the history of -preaching in the synagogue in order to justify the shortening of the -ritual and the introduction of the German sermon. - -The second attempt was to found or create some central body which -would remove the purely personal element out of the Reform movement. -In 1837 Geiger had called his friends to a conference at Wiesbaden -for the purpose of formulating what they considered to be the essence -of Judaism. In 1844 a second such rabbinical conference was held -in Brunswick, largely at the suggestion of L. Philippson. Similar -conferences were held at Frankfort in 1845, and at Breslau in 1846; -for in the mean time the Reform Genossenschaft had been created at -Berlin, which went beyond all previous attempts and demanded some -positive statement of the theological position which it and its friends -occupied. The Frankfort assembly not proving satisfactory, the Berlin -society went ahead to establish its own synagogue; added a Sunday -service (which in a short while became the only service), and under -the guidance of S. Holdheim definitely broke with traditional Judaism, -removing nearly all the Hebrew from its service, abbreviating the -prayer-book still further, and diminishing the number of observances. -In Europe this Reform synagogue in Berlin has gone to the furthest -extreme; and though it has in a measure kept its members within the -pale of Judaism, it has neither been a great power nor has it found -imitators. The hope was generally expressed that a more general synod -would be held, to which the previous conferences were looked upon as -simply preparatory. The year 1848, however, put a stop to all normal -development; and it was only after a number of years that the question -was again taken up. In 1869 a synod was, indeed, held at Leipsic, -attended by eighty-one members; and in 1871 at Augsburg, attended -by fifty-two, both under the presidency of Prof. M. Lazarus. These -synods dealt, in a spirit of moderate reform, with questions relating -to the ritual, synagogue observance, the admission of proselytes, -etc. The general stand there taken would to-day be looked upon as -conservative; dogmatic questions were hardly touched upon excepting -so far as they recognized the principle of development in Judaism -both as a religious belief and as a form of religious exercise. It -was fondly hoped that these synods would become a court, which would -define and regulate whatever questions might arise. But it was not -to be. The synod represented only a part of the Jewish world even in -Germany. Not only did the large body of the Orthodox stand aside, but -even the so-called Conservatives left the conferences, as they could -not agree with some of the resolutions accepted there. In addition to -this, the Franco-Prussian war diverted the attention of all German -citizens; and ten years later the anti-Semitic movement succeeded in -driving the Jew back into himself. Jewish religious life in Germany -has therefore remained stationary since that time, the Orthodox and -Conservative parties being largely in the ascendant, leaving to another -land—America—the task of carrying further the work which it had -commenced. Yet, in spite of this arrested development, the Reform -movement has had a great influence also upon Orthodox Jews in Germany. -It produced the so-called historical school, which has the Breslau -Theological Seminary for its centre; and it called forth by way of -opposition the neo-orthodoxy of S. R. Hirsch, of Frankfort, which seeks -rather to understand the depths of the law than simply to follow it in -compliant obedience. - -The æsthetic movement of the earlier period has also left its traces, -and especially in the Conservative congregation has succeeded in -introducing a service more in consonance with our modern ideas of -worship. - -In 1840, under the influence of the movement in Germany, the attempt -was made to introduce a certain reform in the service of some of the -London synagogues. The measure demanded was exceedingly small—the -shortening of a few prayers and the omission of others, which were not -supposed to be in consonance with present ideas. The Orthodox party -did not, however, see its way to grant these requests; and, when the -Reformers protested, established their own synagogue, and issued their -own prayer-book, they were immediately placed under the bann both by -the Sefardim and the Ashkenazim. This congregation has not been of -much importance, and since its inception has made no further changes. -Compared with the Reform in America, the English movement would still -be classed as thoroughly conservative. - -It was in the United States that the Reform movement developed its full -capacity and bore its most perfect fruit. In a new land, which was -untrammelled by traditions of the past, and where the congregational -system became the basis of Jewish communal life, the ideas which the -German Reformers had sown had a most fruitful ground in which to grow. -It cannot be said that the Reform movement here was actually started -by the Germans, for already, in 1825, one of the congregations in -Charleston, South Carolina, made up almost entirely of Sefardic Jews, -had developed “The Reformed Society of Israelites”; and the formation -of the society seems to have been due, not only to the demand for -an æsthetic service, but to an attempt to formulate a creed which -should omit all reference to the coming of the Messiah, the return to -Palestine, and the bodily resurrection. This attempt at formulating -a Theistic Church, however, was unsuccessful; and it was not until -the advent from Germany in the 50’s and 60’s of rabbis who had been -influenced by the movement in Germany that reform commenced to make -itself felt here. Merzbacher in New York, Isaac M. Wise in Albany and -Cincinnati, S. Hirsch in Philadelphia, David Einhorn in Baltimore, -are only a few of the names of those who fought in the thick of -the fight. About the year 1843 the first real Reform congregations -were established, the Temple Emanu-el in New York and Har Sinai in -Baltimore. It cannot be my purpose here to trace the history of the -movement in this country; suffice it to say that the untrammelled -freedom which existed here very soon played havoc with most of the -institutions of the Jewish religion. Each congregation and each -minister being a law to itself, shortened the service, excised prayers, -and did away with observances as it thought best. Not that the leaders -did not try, from time to time, to regulate the measure of reform to -be introduced, and to evolve a platform upon which the movement should -stand. Rabbinical conferences were held for that purpose in Cleveland -(1856), Philadelphia (1869), Cincinnati (1871), and Pittsburg (1885). -While in the earlier conferences the attempt was made to find some -authoritative statement upon which all parties could agree, in the -subsequent ones the attempt was given up. They became more and more -meeting-places simply for the advanced Reform wing of the Jewish -Church. The position of this wing of the Reformed synagogue may best -be seen in the declaration of principles which was published by the -Pittsburg conference. It declared that Judaism presents the highest -conception of the God idea; that the Bible contains the record of the -consecration of the Jewish people; that it is a potent instrument -of religious and moral instruction; that it reveals, however, the -primitive ideas of its own age; that its moral laws only are binding; -and that all ceremonies therein ordained which are not adapted to -the views and habits of modern civilization are to be rejected; that -all Mosaic and rabbinical laws regulating diet, priestly functions -and dress, are foreign to our present mental state; that the Jews -are no longer a nation, and therefore do not expect a return to -Palestine; that Judaism is a progressive religion, always striving to -be in accord with the postulates of reason; that the belief in bodily -resurrection, in the existence of a hell and a paradise, are to be -rejected; and that it is the duty of Jews to participate in the great -task of modern times to solve on the basis of justice and righteousness -the problems presented by the transitions and evils of the present -organization of society. Such a platform as this could not fail to -arouse intense opposition on the part of the Orthodox Jews, and to -lose for the conference even some of its more conservative adherents. -As in Charleston, in 1825, a platform of Theism was here postulated, -which was bereft of all distinctively Jewish characteristics, and which -practically meant a breaking away from historic Judaism. This position -of the advanced Reformers is also manifested in the stand which they -have taken in regard to the necessity of the Abrahamic covenant. At a -meeting of the Central Conference of American (Reformed) Rabbis, held -at Baltimore in 1881, a resolution was passed to the effect that no -initiatory rite or ceremony was necessary in the case of one desiring -to enter the Covenant of Israel, and that such a one had merely to -declare his or her intention to worship the one sole and eternal God, -to be conscientiously governed in life by God’s laws, and to adhere to -the sacred cause and mission of Israel as marked out in Holy Writ. - -The service in Reform synagogues in the United States has kept pace -with this development of doctrine, or rather with this sloughing-off of -so much that is distinctively Jewish. The observance of the second-day -festivals has been entirely abolished, as well as the separation of -the sexes and the covering of the head in prayer. The ritual has -been gradually shortened, the ancient language of prayer (Hebrew) -has been pushed further and further into the background, so that in -some congregations the service is altogether English; and in a few -congregations an additional service on Sunday, intended for those who -cannot attend upon the regular Sabbath-day, has been introduced. Only -one congregation, Sinai in Chicago, has followed the old Berlin Reform -synagogue and has entirely abolished the service on Friday night and -Saturday morning. But whatever criticism one might like to offer on -the Reform movement in the United States, it deserves great praise -for the serious attempt it has made to understand its own position -and to square its observance with that position. It has also been -most active in its modern institutional development. It has certainly -beautified and spiritualized the synagogue service; it has founded a -Union of American Hebrew Congregations, and a seminary (Hebrew Union -College in Cincinnati). It has published a Union Prayer-book and a -Union Hymn-book, and has given great care to the development of the -Confirmation and the bettering of the Sunday-school. It has tried to -make the synagogue a centre for the religious and spiritual development -of its members; and it cannot be denied that the very large mass of -educated Jews in this country, in so far as they have any affiliation -with the synagogue, belong to the Reform wing. But at the same time, -it must not be forgotten that there is a very large body of Orthodox -and Conservative Jews, whose number has been greatly increased during -the last twenty years through the influx of Russian, Galician, and -Roumanian Jews. It would be outside of my province were I to attempt -to criticise either the work or the results of Reform Judaism in -this country. But it is a question in the minds even of some of the -leading Reformers themselves how far success has been attained in -developing the religious sentiment of their people in the direction of -a pure Theism uncolored by any Jewish, or, as they call it, Oriental -observances. They themselves confess that the Sunday-service movement -has not developed as they had hoped it would, and a number of them -feel that in weakening the hold which specific Jewish observances have -always had on the Jewish people, they are doing away with one of the -most powerful incentives to the rekindling of the religious flame among -the Reformed Jews. - -Reform Judaism without some centrifugal force is bound to continue -on the road it has once taken. The logical outcome of the principles -formulated at the Pittsburg conference is a gradual development into an -ethical Theism without any distinctive Jewish coloring. The leader of -advanced Reform Judaism in this country has recently said that Judaism -must be recast along the lines of a universal ethical religion; that -then all distinctive Jewish elements of the synagogue symbolism will -pass away, and that such a denationalized Jewish temple will seek a -closer alliance with Unitarianism and Theism, and with them, perhaps -in a few decades, will form a new Church and a new religion for united -humanity. That such a tendency is inherent in Reform Judaism is seen -also in the formation of the Society of Ethical Culture in New York. -The leader of this movement is the son of a former prominent rabbi of -the leading Reform congregation in this country. In seeking to bring -out the underlying ethical principles of Judaism, he has gone entirely -outside the pale of the ancient faith; and the movement would not -concern us here were it not that nearly all the members (at least of -the parent society in New York) are Jews, whose evident desire it is -not to be recognized as such, at least so far as religious ceremonies -and social affiliations are concerned. The society does not even -bear the name Jewish, but with a certain leaning towards liberal -Christianity tries to find a basis for the morality and ethics of -the old synagogue outside the sphere of supernatural religion. While -the Ethical Culture Society has been quite a power in certain lines -of charitable and educational work, it may reasonably be questioned -whether it has any future as a form of Church organization. The inborn -longing of man for some hold upon things which are supernatural will -lead many of its members to seek satisfaction elsewhere. That they will -seek it in the Jewish synagogue is hardly probable, seeing how the -racial and other ties have been broken or at least greatly loosened. -They or their children will glide rather into some form of the dominant -Church, possibly, in the swinging of the pendulum, into some orthodox -form of that Church. I cannot help quoting the words of an intelligent -outside observer of the Jewish question, the Right Hon. James Bryce, -M. P.: “If Judaism becomes merely Theism, there will be little to -distinguish its professors from the persons, now pretty numerous, who, -while Christian in name, sit loose to Christian doctrine. The children -of Jewish theists will be almost as apt as the children of other -theists to be caught up by the movement which carries the sons and -daughters of evangelical Anglicans and of Nonconformists towards, or -all the way to, the Church of Rome.” - -Where, then, is this centrifugal force to be found, which will -hold together the various elements in Israel, no matter what their -theological opinions may be? - - -ANTI-SEMITISM - -Before attempting to answer this question, a word must be said in -regard to the anti-Semitic movement, the recrudescence of which has -so profoundly affected the Jewish people during the last twenty years -of the nineteenth century. A word only, because the facts are of too -recent date to need a detailed statement here. The great master-mind, -Zunz, writing in Germany in 1832, believed that persecution for -religious belief could not withstand the onslaughts of the new era. -Theodore Reinach, some fifty years later, asserted that anti-Semitism -was impossible in France. How sadly has a _démenti_ been given to the -hopes thus expressed, especially in these two countries! - -I pass over the outbreaks against the Jews during the early years of -the nineteenth century, even the Damascus blood-accusation in 1840, -and the forcible baptism of little Edgar Mortara in 1858; they were -believed to belong to the old order of things, with which the new, -at least in that direction, had nothing in common. I confine myself -simply to the modern form of anti-Judaism, which has been dignified -with the name of anti-Semitism. It is hard for a Jew to speak of these -things with composure or with the judicial mind of a mere chronicler -of events. Neither emancipation from without nor Reform from within -has been able to stay the hand of the destroyer of Israel’s peace. -It has been contended that in most countries the Jews were not ready -to be emancipated; that in some the non-Jewish population was not -sufficiently advanced to make emancipation effective. The first may -be true in regard to the Algerian Jews; the second, in regard to -those in Roumania; but it is not true of the other nations on the -European continent. Starting in Germany, perhaps as a political move -on the part of Bismarck, it spread into Russia, Galicia, Austria, -Roumania, and France. In most of these countries it not only found -expression in the exclusion of the Jews from all social intercourse -with their fellows, but in Russia produced the riots of 1881 and 1882; -in Austria and Bohemia the turbulent scene in the Reichstag, and even -the pillaging of Jewish houses and Jewish synagogues; in Roumania -it received the active support of the government and reduced the -Jews there to practical penury; while in France it showed itself in -accusations against the Jews which for barbarity could match any that -were brought against them in the Middle Ages. The charges against the -Jews are varied in their character. In Germany they have been blamed -for exploiting the agricultural class and for serving the interests -of the Liberal party, forgetting that Leo and Stahl, the founders of -the Orthodox party in Prussia, were themselves Jews, and that Disraeli -in England was born of the same race. The most foolish accusations -on almost every conceivable subject have been lodged against them by -such men as Ahlwart, Stöcker, Lueger, and Drumont; and in late years -the old and foolish charge that the Jews use the blood of Christian -children in the making of Passover bread has been revived, in order to -infuriate the populace; despite the fact that popes, ecclesiastics, -and hosts of Christian professors have declared the accusation to be -purely imaginary and malignant. The false charge that a Jewish officer -in France had betrayed secrets of his government was sufficient to -unloosen the most savage attacks upon the Jews which the modern world -has seen. - -The fact which stands out in the whole agitation is not that the -charges have been made, in most cases by men who sought in some way -or other to fish in troubled waters, but that these charges find -a ready echo and a ready response among the people at large. It -emphasizes so clearly that the Jews are a defenceless people, with -no means of effectually warding off attacks; and though in Germany -and Austria societies of Christians have been formed for the purpose -of combating anti-Semitism, there is no power which can effectually -enter the lists in their behalf. This was notably seen in the great -London demonstration of 1882, when the petition signed by the foremost -members of Church and state never even reached the Czar, to whom it was -addressed. - -Among the few bright spots on the world’s chart are those countries -inhabited by the Anglo-Saxon race. Anti-Semitism is unknown in England -(though the attempt has been made to fix the blame for the Boer war on -the Jews); and the institutions of the United States have up till now -prevented the entrance here of the disease, though in the mild form of -social anti-Semitism which debars Jewish children from private schools -and Jewish people from clubs and summer hotels, it has insinuated -itself into some of the Eastern cities, notably into New York. - - -ZIONISM - -There can be no doubt that next to the Reform movement the profoundest -modification of the forces within Judaism has come about during the -last years of the century through the rise and progress of the Zionist -movement. It has been said by some that Zionism is the expression of -Jewish pessimism, by others that it is the highest form of Jewish -optimism. I venture to say that it is both. The emancipation of the -Jews has not been able to do away with anti-Semitism; history has -repeated itself time and time again. When the Jews of a country were -few in number and of little influence, they led a tolerably secure -existence; but as soon as their number increased and their influence -commenced to be felt, anti-Semitism was the effective weapon in the -hands of their opponents. In so far, then, as Zionism takes account -of this fact, it is pessimistic; for conditions in the future will -hardly differ from those in the past. It sees the Wandering Jew of -history continuing still his dreary march through the ages, never at -rest and never able to effect a quiet and even development of his own -forces. It explains this phenomenon from the fact that Israel has in -all the changed circumstances striven to maintain its racial identity, -and as this racial identity has a religious side as well, that the -two combined may well be called a separate national existence; that a -people holding tenaciously to this separate existence, but having no -home of its own, must become, when occasion demands, the scape-goat -and the play-ball of other forces. It recognizes anti-Semitism as -continually existent, and in so far the opponents of Zionism may -be right in saying that its rise is the result of the anti-Jewish -movement. It is the Jewish answer from the Jewish point of view. On -the other hand, Zionism is optimistic in believing that real help for -the Jews can only come from within their own body; and that the Jewish -question will only be solved when the Jews return to that point in -their history whence they set out on their wanderings, and again found -a permanent home to which all the persecuted can flee and from which a -light will go forth to every nook and corner of Jewry. It does not hope -that all Jews will return to Palestine, but it believes that only in a -national centre can the centrifugal force be found which will hold the -Jews together in the various countries of their sojourn. - -When Theodore Herzl, a _littérateur_ in Vienna, published in 1897 his -pamphlet on the Jewish state, he little imagined that it would call -forth an echo in every country in which the Jews were scattered. He -was not the first to attempt this solution of the problem. Far-seeing -Russian Jews before him had, many years previous to that, propounded -this method of dealing with the question, and it had been practically -the assumption upon which the Judaism of the past had been built up. -Reform Judaism, in relinquishing the hope of a return, and in cutting -out from the prayer-book all mention of Palestine and the restoration, -broke one of the strongest links which bound the Judaism of to-day with -that of the past, and cast aside a great ideal, the realization of -which had been a light to the feet of the Jews since the destruction of -the Temple. The idea of a “Mission” has taken its place, the preaching -of a pure Monotheism. - -The Zionist congresses (which have now been held during four successive -years) have found the platform, so often sought for in vain during the -nineteenth century, upon which all Jews, regardless of theological -opinions and of economic theories, can stand. They represent the old -unity of Israel; for Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, and even the -purely racial Jew are to be found there as well as in the Zionist -societies which have grown up in every Jewish community, whether in -Europe or in Africa, in North or in South America, even in the distant -Philippines. The Orthodox Jew must be, by his very profession, a -Zionist; but he often doubts whether the plan as formulated by Dr. -Herzl is feasible, and holds himself aloof, waiting for the realization -of his hopes at the hands of others, or for some supernatural sign of -divine assistance. The very fact that the Jewish opponents of Zionism -(and they are the only opponents it has) come from various parts of the -Jewish camp is in itself a proof of the above statement. The Orthodox -complain that some of the leaders of the movement are not sufficiently -Jewish; the Reform, that some are too Jewish. That this opposition -is exceedingly strong cannot be denied. The demand made that the Jew -should assert himself first and foremost as a Jew has been distasteful -to many who were soaring in the mystic hazes of Universalism, or who -had hoped to get out of Judaism as it were by the back door, without -being seen by the world at large. - -But even in those circles which do not formally affiliate with -Zionism, or who at times even oppose it, there has of late years been a -very strong revival of Jewish feeling and a movement towards a stronger -expression of that feeling. Germany is honeycombed with societies for -the study of Jewish literature; the Hebrew language has been revived, -notably in Russia, not only as a form of literary expression, but also -as a vehicle of social intercourse; France has its Society of Jewish -Studies; America and England have their Jewish Historical Societies, -and their Jewish Chautauqua movements; Jewish national societies have -sprung up among the students of German and Austrian universities—all -influences—tending in this one direction. - - -THE TWENTIETH CENTURY - -As we look ahead into the century which is now opening and cast our eye -over the forces which the Jews will bring into its life, we can easily -see that these forces tend in various directions. - -We have first the Orthodox wing of the Jewish Church, which stands -upon the broad basis of what the past has evolved. It holds firmly -to the inspiration of the biblical word and the divine character -of its interpretation as handed down in the oral law; it tries to -regulate its life by Talmudic ordinances as evolved in the latest -law books, and is unwilling to make any but æsthetic concessions to -changed circumstances, believing that we must adhere strictly to all -the time-honored ceremonies of the synagogue. At its side stand the -Conservatives, who are willing to make some concession to present -demands, but believe that these concessions should be most sparingly -and grudgingly made, and who theologically, at least in theory, -occupy the same position as do the Orthodox. It is safe to say that -the greater number of Jews in the Western European states belong to -this wing of the synagogue. Between the Conservatives and the Ethical -Culturists stands the Reform party, more numerous in the United States -than anywhere else, whose position it is hard to define and in whose -midst there are various shades of opinion and of practice. All the -Reformers have openly or tacitly broken with Talmudic Judaism—the -more conservative among them seem to believe that a new Judaism can be -built up upon the Bible, only without its traditional interpretation; -while the advanced body do not even look upon the Bible as binding, -but merely as a starting-point for a further development. They do not -consider the Bible as inspired in the old accepted sense of the term; -they welcome biblical criticism as an aid to the understanding of the -early history of their people; they do not believe in the special -election of Israel, and have a well-defined abhorrence of anything -like a creed. They are practically Theists with a Jewish racial -coloring. Nor do they believe in the coming of a personal Messiah; -rather, in the advent of a Messianic time in which righteousness and -good-will shall prevail and all the earth acknowledge the one God. -To bring about this time is, according to them, the Mission of the -Jew—a phrase very current in these latter days, the fulfilling of -which has been made the pretext for dejudaizing Judaism, so as to -make it acceptable to non-Jews. Mr. Oswald John Simon, of London, has -even gone further. He believes that if the Reform party is earnest in -its pretensions, it ought—as it did once before in its history—to -become an active missionary power. A few years ago he attempted to -found a Jewish Theistic Church, which should in no way be colored by -Jewish ceremonial. The movement was, of course, a failure. The original -attempt, some nineteen hundred years ago, led to the founding of the -Christian Church, and Jews themselves have suffered too much from -missionaries of other faiths to take to this work with pleasure. -But, in addition to these, there is also a large body of Jews whose -connection with the synagogue is purely nominal, and who know of it -only when they need the services of its sanction or the respectability -of its connections. The hold which the Jewish Church has upon them is -small indeed, and many of them hope, in the twentieth century, to doff -their Jewish gaberdine. The open or concealed pressure of anti-Semitism -(particularly on the continent of Europe) which makes it impossible for -the Jew as such to attain to social distinction or political position -will drive most of these into the arms of the dominant Church of the -country in which they live. In a remarkable article published in the -_Deutsche Jahrbücher_ of October, 1900, a writer who uses the _nom -de plume_ of Benedictus Levita openly urges those of his fellow-Jews -who have become estranged from the synagogue to have their children -baptized, in order that they may not suffer as their parents have, -but may become really believing Christians, since their affiliation -with the Christian Church has become necessary in the modern Christian -state. Another German Jew at about the same time advises his brethren -to declare themselves “Confessionslos,” so as to become lost, not in -Christianity, but in “Deutschtum.” A similar request was made to the -Jews of Roumania, in 1900, by the historian Xenopol of Bucharest. There -is little fear that this advice of wholesale apostasy will find many -adherents, notwithstanding the fact that an unusually large number -of conversions have taken place in Germany and Austria, due wholly -to pressure from without rather than to conviction from within. The -defection even of comparatively large numbers can, however, hardly -affect the Jewish cause as a whole; for these numbers living on the -periphery, or even beyond it, have been of little service to the Jewish -cause; and all through the ages Jews have made just such contributions -as these to the general society in which they lived. - -There can be no doubt that Zionism is a strong protest against these -weaklings, and that the coming century will witness the Jews divided -into two camps not necessarily hostile to each other, the Zionists and -the Non-Zionists—those who plead for a conservation of the old energy -and the old ideals, and those who look forward to the disintegration of -Judaism and its gradual passing away into other forces. That Judaism -can only conserve its force if that force is attached to a racial -and national basis is seen clearly in the fact that just those Jews -in Germany who have been most loudly clamorous against the Zionists -propose to have now what they call a German “Judentag,” which can -certainly mean nothing unless it become Zionist in its tendency. - -Confident in this hope, we of the House of Israel look calmly into -the future. The message of the prophet of old is full of meaning for -us: “Thus saith the Lord God: behold I, even I, will both search my -sheep and seek them out, as a shepherd seeketh out his flock in the -day that he is among his flock which is scattered, and I will deliver -them out of all places where they have been scattered in the cloudy -and dark day.” We can echo the sentiments expressed by a Christian -Zionist, George Eliot, many years ago: “Revive the organic centre; -let the unity of Israel which has made the growth and form of its -religion be an outward reality. Looking towards a land and a polity, -our dispersed people in all the ends of the earth may share the dignity -of a national life which has a voice among the peoples of the East -and the West—which will plant the wisdom and skill of our race so -that it may be, as of old, a medium of transmission and understanding. -Let that come to pass, and the living warmth will spread to the -weak extremities of Israel, and superstition will vanish, not in the -lawlessness of the renegade, but in the illumination of great facts -which widen feeling and make all knowledge alive as the young offspring -of beloved memories.” - - RICHARD J. H. GOTTHEIL. - - - - -FREE-THOUGHT - - -The history of religion during the past century may be described as the -sequel of that dissolution of the mediæval faith which commenced at the -Reformation. The vast process of disintegration proceeds by degrees, is -varied by reactionary effort, and gives birth to new theories in its -course. In our day the completion of the process and a new departure -seem to be at hand. A sharp line cannot be drawn at the beginning of -the last century, the leaders of religious thought in the seventeenth -and eighteenth centuries having been to a great extent the leaders, and -their works the text-books, of the nineteenth. - -At the Reformation Protestantism threw off the yoke of Pope and priest, -priestly control over conscience through the confessional, priestly -absolution for sin, and belief in the magical power of the priest as -consecrator of the Host, besides the worship of the Virgin and the -saints, purgatory, relics, pilgrimages, and other incidents of the -mediæval system. Ostensibly, Protestantism was founded on freedom of -conscience and the right of private judgment. In reality, it retained -Church authority over conscience in the shape of dogmatic creeds and -ordination tests. It besides enforced belief in the plenary inspiration -of the Bible, by which the exercise of private judgment was narrowly -confined. Not for some time did it even renounce persecution. In grimly -Calvinistic Scotland a boy was hanged for impugning the doctrine of the -Trinity at the end of the seventeenth century. The Anglican Church, -suspended by the will of the Tudor sovereigns between Catholicism and -Protestantism, oscillated from side to side, producing by one of its -oscillations the great civil war. It burned heretics in the reign of -James I. All the Protestant Churches except the Baptists, who at first -were objects of persecution, fell under the dominion of the state, -which repaid them for their submission and support by endowments, -temporal privileges, and persecution of dissent. - -Though Protestantism produced a multitude of sects, especially in -England at the time of the Commonwealth, hardly any of them were -free-thinking or sceptical; those of any importance, at all events, -were in some sense dogmatic and were anchored to the inspiration of the -Bible. Nor is it easy to convict Hobbes, bugbear of the orthodox as he -was, of scepticism or even of heterodoxy. The expression of heterodox -opinions, indeed, would have been a violation of his own principle, -which makes religion absolutely an affair of the state, to be regulated -by a despotic government, and confines liberty to the recesses of -thought. It is true that in making religion a political institution, -variable at a despot’s will, he covertly denied that it was divine. - -Under the Restoration religious thought and controversy slept. The -nation was weary of those subjects. The liberty for which men then -struggled was political, though with political liberty was bound up -religious toleration, which achieved a partial triumph under William -III. - -The Church of Rome, to meet the storm, reorganized herself at the -Council of Trent on lines practically traced for her by the Jesuit. A -comparison of Suarez with Thomas Aquinas shows the change which took -place in spirit as plainly as a comparison of the Jesuit’s meretricious -fane with the Gothic churches shows the change in religious taste. -Papal autocracy was strengthened at the expense of the episcopate, -and furnished at once with a guard and a propagandist machinery -of extraordinary power in the Order of Loyola. That the plenary -inspiration of the Bible in the Vulgate version, and including the -Apocrypha, should be reaffirmed was a secondary matter, inasmuch as the -Church of Rome holds that it is not she who derives her credentials -from Scripture, but Scripture which depends for the attestation of -its authority upon her. She now allied herself more closely than -before with the Catholic kings, with Philip II., and afterwards with -Louis XIV., who paid her for her support of political absolutism -by sanguinary persecution of heretics. She hereby parted with her -Hildebrandic supremacy over the powers of the world, though she did -not, like the Anglican Church, recognize the divine right of kings. -The liberal and peace-making movements which had been set on foot, or -were afterwards set on foot, within her pale, such as the Oratory of -Divine Love, which held justification by faith and wished to compromise -with the Protestants, were effectually put down. Jansenism, when it -appeared, with its half-Calvinistic theory of Grace, shared the same -fate. Gallicanism afterwards, having nationality to back it, was more -successful. But it brought no freedom of conscience; it was merely a -repartition of the despotic power over conscience between the King and -the Pope. - -In Spain, and for the most part in Italy, Rome, by the aid of -the Jesuit and the Inquisition, completely succeeded in killing -free-thought. In France, where there was no Inquisition, her triumph -was not so complete. She succeeded only in driving scepticism into -disguise and subterfuge. The Commonwealth of Holland did France and the -world in general the immense service of affording a printing house for -free-thought which was on the confines of France, but beyond the reach -of the French government. Descartes, without directly assailing the -faith of the Church, planted in her face the standard of thorough-going -reason and entitled himself to a place in the Index. Growing sensuality -and love of pleasure brought with them laxity of belief and impatience -of priestly control. The authority of the clergy was impaired by -their scandalous wealth and vice, which at the same time enhanced the -odium of their persecuting tyranny. At last came Voltaire, Diderot, -the _Encyclopædia_, and Rousseau. With literary cleverness unmatched -and an incomparable genius for subtle attack, combined with a winning -philanthropy, Voltaire converted and drew into the work of demolition, -to them suicidal, the thrones of Louis XV., or rather of the Pompadour, -of Catherine, and Frederick. The influence extended even to Spain, -where Aranda, and to Portugal, where Pombal reigned. The Pope was -constrained to dissolve the Order of Jesus. As Voltaire demolished in -the name of Reason, Rousseau demolished in the name of Nature, taking -an artificial society by storm. Helvétius went to the length of extreme -materialism; but Voltaire, the master-spirit of the movement, remained -a theist, and Rousseau was even for compulsory theism as the foundation -of the state. The Revolution also, when it came, though violently and -profanely anti-Christian, was in the main theist, and in the midst -of the Terror held its Feast of the Supreme Being, with Robespierre -for high priest. Atheism, in the persons of Chaumette and Anacharsis -Clootz, went to the guillotine. - -One hardly knows what to say about the _Last Will and Testament_ -of Jean Meslier, the priest who after thirty years’ service as a -country curé bequeathed to his parishioners a profession of atheism. -The work appears to have passed through the hands of Voltaire. It -urges the arguments against natural theology in a very forcible as -well as thorough-going way. But it seems, when it appeared, to have -made little impression and can be mentioned historically only as an -indication of the masked ferment of the time. - -England had a series of deists, Toland, Tindal, Collins, Chubb, -and the rest, not men of much mark, though seekers of truth after -their measure and in their day. The ecclesiastical polity of England -was comparatively mild, and there was nothing to provoke indignant -resistance to clerical tyranny like that which was provoked by the -cases of Calas and LaBarre. Shaftesbury, a deist of a higher stamp, -was, with his “moral taste,” a philosopher for men of taste, and could -little stir the common world. In defence of orthodoxy came forth -Bishop Butler, with a work which will be memorable forever as a model -of earnest and solemn inquiry into the deepest questions, though -its fundamental assumption is unwarrantable, since we should expect -the difficulties of natural theology not to be reproduced but to be -dispelled by revelation. Butler’s tone in discussion was an effective -rebuke to those who had treated Christianity with levity as an obsolete -interference with the pleasures of the world. His profound analysis of -the moral nature of man in like manner rebuked the shallow and cynical -theories which resolved everything into self-love; though here again -his assumption of the authority of conscience as a divinely implanted -monitor has by modern investigation been disallowed. Butler, however, -with all his piety and his orthodox conclusions, must essentially be -reckoned among rationalists. He frankly admits that the use of our -reason is the only means we have of arriving at truth, never appealing -from it to Church authority. He who recognizes reason as supreme must -be deemed rationalist, let his own reason lead him or mislead him as it -may. This is the vital line of cleavage which runs through the whole -religious history and divides the religious world at the present day. - -Butler had a popular shield-bearer in Paley, an extremely acute and -effective though not profound writer. Paley’s supposed proof of the -existence of an intelligent Creator from the design visible in creation -told greatly at the time and long continued to tell; though we now -see that the universe, unlike the watch, presents terrible proofs of -undesign as well as apparent proofs of design; not to mention that in -the case of the universe, though adaptation is visible, the aim is not -revealed. Paley’s _Horae Paulinae_, however, is about the only piece of -historical apologetics which has in any degree survived the destructive -influence of modern criticism. - -Warburton hardly calls for mention. In his _Divine Legation_ he is -right enough in saying that Moses did not teach the immortality of the -soul; but the notion that the Mosaic dispensation must have had divine -support because it could afford to dispense with that doctrine would -now only provoke a smile. - -Among literary apologists we can scarcely reckon Johnson. Yet he was a -living defence, intellectual as well as moral, of his religion. That -he speculated, we cannot doubt, and we know that he was not satisfied -with the proofs of the immortality of the soul; but he suppressed -doubt in himself and frowned it down in others. He was well justified -in treating with contempt the posthumous works of Bolingbroke, which -have not the slightest force or value beyond their literary form. -Bolingbroke’s scepticism, however, had a certain effect if it inspired -Pope’s _Universal Prayer_. - -In Hume, on the other hand, we have the mightiest of all sceptics in -the literal sense of the term, inasmuch as he was purely a doubter -and seems hardly to have felt the desire of arriving at any positive -result. He who has given rise to so much controversy was himself -uncontroversial. His writings, considered as the vehicle of his -opinions, are the perfection of literary art. Over common minds the -teacher who merely suspends judgment, seeming not to be in quest of -positive truth, can never have much influence; but Hume had great -influence over cultivated men of the world. His argument against the -credibility of miracles, though it became as standard on one side -as Paley’s apologue of the watch upon the other, will hardly bear -examination. Assuming the existence of God and His care for man as His -work, which Hume does not openly deny, there is no presumption against -His revelation of Himself in the only conceivable way, which is by -an interruption of the general course of things; there is rather a -presumption that He would so reveal Himself. Nor can it be maintained -that no degree of evidence, say that of a multitude of scientific -men, after providing all possible safeguards against deception, would -satisfy us of the fact. - -Gibbon’s great work is instinct with the tendency of men of the world -in the generation of Voltaire, Horace Walpole, and Hume. Its spirit -is identical with that of Hume’s philosophy and history. It is of -first-rate importance in the religious controversy as having opened -the trenches historically against revealed religion in undertaking to -account for the success of Christianity by natural causes. But its -cynical treatment of that which, on any hypothesis, was the prevailing -and formative force is unphilosophical and detracts largely from the -value of the work. He who could imagine that man had been happiest in -the Roman Empire under the Antonines was an apt partisan of Lord North. -Gibbon no doubt imagined himself a rich patrician of his golden era. -Would he have liked to be a Roman slave? Conyers Middleton in his _Free -Inquiry_ into the ecclesiastical miracles glanced at the credibility of -the Gospel miracles and had thus partly paved the way for Gibbon. - -Among the disintegrating forces may be counted Unitarianism, which was -growing among thinkers, and probably before very long became the mask -for profounder scepticism in Protestant Europe as it did afterwards in -New England. We find it in England on the eve of the French Revolution, -combined with science in Priestley and with mathematics and philosophy -in Price. - -Among the apologetic and defensive forces may be numbered the -practical vindication of Christianity by a certain revival of piety -in the Anglican Church which produced Wilberforce, Cowper, and the -Evangelicals, and still more by the religious crusade of John Wesley. -Wesley’s achievements, however, were among the poor and illiterate, and -were consequently demonstrations of the power of Christianity rather -than of its truth. His Church had the advantage of being born, not like -other Protestant Churches in doctrinal controversy, but in evangelical -reaction against the impiety and vice of the age. It was, however, -not undogmatic; besides what might be called the dogma of sudden -conversion, it implicitly accepted not only the literal inspiration -of Scripture, but the bulk of the Anglican Articles, to which was -afterwards added, as an ordination test, general agreement with the -more important of Wesley’s sermons. - -The French Revolution brought on a strong reaction against the -free-thought which had been hideously travestied in the blasphemous -follies, and sullied by the crimes, of the Jacobins. In England the -Tory mob, with true instinct, sacked the library and laboratory of -Priestley. Coleridge, who, like other young men of intellect, had -hailed the revolutionary dawn, shared the reaction, and combining -in a curious way German metaphysic with English orthodoxy and -Establishmentarianism, produced a religious system which perhaps -entitles him to high place among English theologians in the proper -sense of that term, as denoting a philosophic inquirer into the nature -of the Deity and the relations between the Deity and man; though, as -his guiding light was philosophy, not authority or tradition, he may -in that respect be numbered among the promoters of free-thought and -of the results to which it was ultimately to lead. Such free-thinking -as there was naturally took a turn answering in violence to the -repression. Tom Paine assailed orthodoxy, not with freedom only, but -with enmity the most virulent. Though far from an attractive, he is -by no means an unimportant figure. His criticisms of the credibility -and morality of Scripture, unlearned and coarse as they were, went, -not over the heads of the people like the high-flying and metaphysical -speculations, but straight to their understandings and their hearts. -It was difficult for apologetic fencers to parry such home thrusts. -The same sort of effect has been produced by the irreverent frankness -of Ingersoll in our own day. Shelley rushed from the religion of Eldon -into what he took for Satanism; though his Satan is really the power of -good, while the God of Eldon, as viewed by him, is the Devil. - -Wrecked, body and soul, by the Thirty Years’ war, and afterwards -stifled under a group of petty despotisms, Germany was for a time lost -to intellectual progress. Her churches and their clergy, the Lutheran -clergy at least, were in a very low condition. When her intellect began -to work again, it was in a recluse and highly speculative way, the -natural consequence of its exclusion from politics and other fields of -action, together with the complete severance of the academical element -from the people. Hence, from Leibnitz and Lessing onward, there was a -train of metaphysical philosophies, each of them professing to find -in our consciousness a key to the mystery of Being and an account of -God, of His counsels, and of the relation between Him and man. In -derision of such speculations it was said that to the French belonged -the land, to the English the sea, to the Germans the air. Essentially -incapable of verification, these theories went on shifting in -nebulous succession and, with the exception of that of Kant, may now -be said to have vanished, leaving scarce a rack behind. Even of the -great Hegel little remains. Leibnitz, with his “best of all possible -worlds,” hardly survived _Candide_. Still, we must speak with respect -and gratitude of these efforts of minds, powerful in their way and -devoted to truth, to solve for us the great mystery. Speculation so -free could not fail to promote general freedom of thought, and the -treatment by these thinkers of the popular and established religion was -as philosophic as possible, though, with the exception of Feuerbach, -they were theists. By Lessing much was done for the recognition of all -religions and the promotion of universal toleration. - -Presently, however, came direct criticism of the Bible, the way to -which, long before, had been lighted by Spinoza. It assumed a strange -form in the work of Paulus, who applied to the Gospel miracles a -solvent something like that which Euhemerus had applied to the Pagan -Pantheon, reducing them to natural occurrences turned into miracles by -a devout imagination. The miraculous fish with the coin in its mouth -was a fish which would sell for the coin. The miraculous feeding of the -five thousand was brought within the compass of belief by supposing -that they were not fasting, but had only gone without a regular meal. -Christ’s walking on the water was his holding out a hand from the shore -to Peter who had leaped into the water to ascertain whether it was -really Christ that was walking on the shore. - -Far more serious, and a startling blow to orthodoxy, was the _Life -of Jesus_, by Strauss, who undertook to explain the Gospels on the -mythical theory, showing that the reputed incidents of the life of -Jesus and his miracles were mythical fulfilments of Old Testament -prophecies and aspirations. From this, his first theory, Strauss -afterwards partly receded, and in his second _Life of Jesus_, -after a critical examination of the authorities, he comes to the -conclusion that “few great men have existed of whose history we have -so unsatisfactory a knowledge as that we have of Jesus.” The figure -of Socrates, he thinks, though four hundred years older, is beyond -all comparison more distinct. The momentous step, however, had been -taken. Jesus had become the subject of a biography founded on critical -examination of the materials, and Strauss is right in saying, as he -does in his second _Life_, that when the biography was seriously taken -up the doom of the theological conception was sealed. Lives of Christ, -including even the most popular of them, however they may pretend and -struggle to be orthodox, are really, as Strauss says, destructive of -the theological conception, while they do not help to confirm our -loyalty to historical truth. Ferdinand Christian Baur and his Tübingen -school applied historical criticism to the early Christian Church, -showing the conflict in it of the Pauline with the Petrine tendency, -and bringing it altogether, as well as its source, within the pale of -human history. Historical criticism of the Gospels was furthered by -the progress of historical criticism in general, shown by such a work -as Niebuhr’s _History of Rome_. Wolf’s treatment of the Homeric poems -had already marked the birth of a critical spirit, which was aided -by historical and archæological discoveries of all kinds, as well as -by the growing influence of science on the methods of religious and -anthropological speculation. - -There was an evangelical reaction against rationalism in Germany with -a train of controversialists and commentators reputed as orthodox. Yet -even in these, more or less of a rationalist undertone is perceived. -There is a tendency more or less apparent to minimize the supernatural, -to throw the miracles into the background, and dwell rather on the -spiritual significance of Christ’s character and words. This is very -conspicuous in Neander, the head of the line. An orthodox English -divine such as Mr. Rose might well, after a survey of German theology, -make a rather mournful report. - -In Holland, ever the land of free speculation, criticism advanced -without fear, and at last by the pen of Kuenen arraigns the -authenticity, antiquity, and authority of the historical books of -the Old Testament to an extent totally subversive of their character -as records of a primeval history, much more as organs of a divine -revelation. - -German philosophy had mingled with English theology through Coleridge. -German criticism of the Bible did not lag much behind. Milman’s -_History of the Jews_, dealing with the subject in the spirit of an -ordinary history, treating patriarchs as Arab sheiks and minimizing -miracles, gave a serious shock to orthodox sentiment in England. Even -what was deemed orthodox in Germany appeared rationalistic to the -Anglican divines. To the evangelicals especially, whose leader was -Simeon, and who occupied many of the fashionable pulpits, anything like -critical treatment of the sacred history seemed impiety. Yet they, -with their inward persuasion of conversion and spiritual union with -the Saviour, as well as the Quaker with his inner light, or the Roman -Catholic with his implicit faith in the Church, were really beyond the -critic’s reach. - -A long line of British leaders of thought and controversialists -succeeds. Rationalist and heterodox in different degrees were Thomas -Arnold, Frederick Maurice, Stanley, Jowett, the writers of _Essays -and Reviews_, and Robertson, of Brighton. Decidedly sceptical were -Matthew Arnold, Carlyle, and James Anthony Froude. Reaction on the -High Church side found leaders in Pusey, Newman, and Hurrell Froude. -The evangelical pulpit combated at once rationalism and High Church. -The state Church was awakened from its long torpor, and under -the inspiration of its High Church party strove to reanimate its -Convocation. - -Frederick Maurice impressed more by his character than by his writings, -which were fatally obscure. He was rationalist enough to be deprived -of his professorship in an Anglican college. At the same time he could -persuade himself that subscription to the Thirty-nine Articles was no -bondage but a security for free thought. To his yoke-fellow, Kingsley, -is to be traced “muscular Christianity,” a rather suspicious adaptation -of the Sermon on the Mount to our times. But the pair exercised more -influence as social missionaries, striving, in conjunction with Thomas -Hughes, to give the labor movement a religious turn, than as religious -philosophers or critics. - -Thomas Arnold, the head-master of Rugby, was a man of noble character, -powerful mind, and intense earnestness of purpose. He was a firm -believer in Christianity as a revealed religion. But he held a -most liberal view of the Church. He would have admitted to it all -the sects of dissenters and have identified it as far as possible -with the nation. His theory of the identity of the Church with the -nation probably came to him from his passionate study of the ancient -commonwealths. He forgot that the philosophers of Greece, though they -might sacrifice a cock to Æsculapius, were really outside the state -religion, and that the state religion made the chief of them drink -hemlock. Prince of educators as he was, he sometimes laid too heavy -a strain on his pupils, and prematurely developed their speculative -tendencies. In the case of Clough especially, mental health and vigor -seem to have been impaired by premature development. - -With Thomas Arnold may be coupled his friend Whately, who, though, as -Primate of the state Church of Ireland, he held the most equivocal of -prelacies, was, by reason of his strong understanding, his fearless -character, and his shrewd wit, essentially an iconoclast and a rebuker -of ecclesiastical pretensions, as well as a vigorous promoter of -education. His keen sayings flew abroad, but his personal influence was -greater than his influence as a divine. His _Historic Doubts_ was an -apologetic _jeu d’esprit_ which told greatly in its day. - -Bishop Connop Thirlwall was a man of first-rate power. At Cambridge -he had set out as a rationalist, translating German theology of a -heterodox cast and Niebuhr’s _History of Rome_. But his intellect was -curbed by a bishopric, and though he delivered liberal charges and -personally exerted a liberal influence, he was lost to the direct -service of reason. - -Arthur Stanley was Arnold’s best boy, his most devoted adherent, and -his model biographer. He embraced Arnold’s theory of the Church as -coextensive with the nation and carried his theory of the supremacy -of the state so far as to feel a certain sympathy with “Bluidie -Mackenzie” as the defender of a state Church against the independence -of the Covenanters of Scotland. His name was for a time a terror to -all the orthodox, High Church or Low. Yet there was little that was -terrible about him. The sweetness of his character was remarkable. His -liberality of religious sentiment was boundless. But he had little of -the logical or critical faculty, and showed scarcely the desire, still -less the ability, to make his way to definite truth. His passion was -history, and the historical picturesque was his forte. In a haze of -this to the last he floated, coming to no determinate conclusion. His -best works, apart from biography, are not his commentaries or sermons, -but his lectures on the history of the Russian Church and his _Sinai -and Palestine_; although we cannot help smiling when, in his _Sinai and -Palestine_, we see him hunting with passionate interest and implicit -faith for the imaginary scenes of mythical events. - -Stanley’s yoke-fellow, Jowett, was a man of a different cast of mind -and of higher calibre, as all the world now knows. But in him also, -though from different causes, there was the same want of inclination -to grasp or capacity for grasping definite truth. These two men were -eminently typical of an age of religious dissolution, when people felt -the ground of faith giving way under their feet and were striving, -by some sort of compromise, to save themselves from falling into the -abyss. That Jowett had drifted very far away, not only from orthodoxy, -but from his belief in Christianity as a miraculous revelation, -and even from belief in our knowledge of the historical character -of Christ, the posthumous publication of his letters has plainly -shown. How he could have reconciled it to his conscience to remain a -clergyman, to hold the clerical headship of an Anglican college, to -perform the service and administer the sacrament, it is not easy to -see. We can only say that the position was found tenable by one of the -most upright and disinterested of mankind. Jowett’s defence probably -was and is the defence of others, and the indication of spreading -doubt. Clergymen are educated men and can hardly be proof against that -which is carrying conviction to other minds. - -Robertson, of Brighton, as an eloquent preacher and spiritual leader, -rather on the rationalist side, is not to be forgotten. In his sermons -there is an evident tendency to liberalize Christianity and to present -it ethically as a religion of purity and love rather than as a -miraculous revelation which did not escape the keen scent of alarmed -orthodoxy and exposed the preacher to some social persecution. - -By this time a strong current in an opposite direction had begun to -flow. The religious movement was closely connected with the political -movement, especially where there was a state Church. Alarmed by the -progress of liberalism, which had carried the Parliamentary Reform -bill and threatened to withdraw from the Church of England the -support of the state, some of the clergy began to look about for a -new foundation of their authority, and thought that they found it in -apostolical succession and the sacerdotal theory of the sacraments. -The leaders of the movement were Pusey, professor of Hebrew at Oxford; -Henry Newman, a Fellow of Oriel College; and, in its opening, Hurrell -Froude, in whose _Life of Becket_ its spirit and aims are plainly -revealed. It took practically the shape of an attempt to return to -the priestly Middle Ages. Oxford, with its mediæval colleges, the -Fellows of which were then clerical and celibate, formed the natural -scene of such an attempt. Pusey, who, by his academical rank, gave his -name to the movement, was a man of monastic character and mind, with -a piety intense but austere and gloomy enough almost to cling to such -a doctrine as the irremissibility of post-baptismal sin. Henry Newman -was a man of genius, a writer with a most charming and persuasive -style, great personal fascination, and extraordinary subtlety of mind. -What he lacked was the love of truth; system, not truth, was his -aspiration; and as a reasoner he was extremely sophistical, however -honest he might be as a man. In this respect he presented a singular -contrast to his brother, Francis Newman, in whom the love of truth was -the ruling passion, intense and uncompromising, while he was totally -devoid of the gifts of imagination with which Henry was endowed. -Henry Newman’s attempt to revive mediæval doctrines presently landed -him, with his immediate following, in the mediæval Church. Pusey was -illogical enough to refuse the leap. He was also believed to be rather -strongly attached to the leadership and spiritual directorship which, -as a magnate of the Church of England, he enjoyed. He went so near to -the brink as, in his _Irenicon_, to avow that nothing separated him -from Rome but the unmeasured autocracy of the Pope and the excessive -worship of the Virgin, both of them mere questions of degree. Manning -in time followed: an aspiring hierarch who would probably have stayed -in the Church of England if they had made him a bishop. Passing into -the Church of Rome, he became a Cardinal, an active intriguer of the -Vatican, and an extreme Ultramontane, outvying Newman, who, when the -convert’s first ecstasy was over, might be said to be converted rather -than changed. - -The mediævalizing movement owed much to the fascinations of mediæval -art. The Gothic churches and cathedrals and the Gothic ruins of abbeys -have been very powerful conservators and propagators of the faith of -their builders. It is curious that this talisman should have been -renounced by the Church of Rome in favor of the heathen style, of which -St. Peter’s is the paragon, magnificent but, in a religious sense, -unimpressive. - -By the progress of Tractarianism British Protestantism was alarmed and -incensed. The Oxford Convocation was the scene of a pitched battle -brought on by a bold deliverance of Ward, a disciple of Newman, more -logical and daring than his master, who exultingly proclaimed that -English clergymen were embracing “the whole cycle of Roman doctrine.” -Ward, after a struggle which was a sort of Armageddon of High and Low -Church, was condemned and deprived of his degree. Newman’s conversion -speedily followed. The rationalists, such as Stanley and Jowett, voted -on liberal grounds against the condemnation of Ward. - -A storm from the other quarter was raised by _Essays and Reviews_, a -collection of seven essays written by clergymen of the rationalistic -school, having for its object the liberalizing of inquiry in the -Church. The manifesto at the time created an immense sensation, -though in the present advanced state of doctrinal disintegration it -would almost pass unnoticed. One of the essays, the most innocent, -it is true, which nevertheless committed the author to the general -object of the combination, was written by the present Archbishop of -Canterbury, and caused the High Church clergy to protest against his -appointment as a bishop. The glove thus thrown down was taken up by -the High Churchmen. The writers were arraigned for heresy before the -Privy Council, and, as Carlyle said, you had a bench of old British -judges, “like Roman augurs, debating with iron gravity questions of -prevenient grace, supervenient moonshine, and the color of the bishop’s -nightmare if that happened to turn up.” Before the same tribunal was -arraigned Colenso, a missionary bishop of South Africa and an eminent -mathematician, whose arithmetical instincts had led him to examine the -numerical statements of the Pentateuch, with highly heretical results. -Both the essayists and Bishop Colenso escaped conviction. The Committee -of Privy Council, if it was judicial, was also political, and it was -resolved, if possible, to avert a rupture in the state Church. Veteran -lawyers had little difficulty in finding grounds for acquittal when -they did not choose to convict. The language of the impugned writings -was seldom so precise as to defy the power of interpretation. “Either -the passage means what I say, or it has no meaning,” thundered the -counsel for the prosecution. “Is it not possible, Mr. Blank, that the -passage may have no meaning?” was the reply of the judge. The Rev. Mr. -Voysey, however, succeeded in obtaining the honor of a conviction. -Tendered a week to retract, he thanked the court for the opportunity -they had given him of rejecting the offer of repurchasing his once -cherished position in the Established Church by proclaiming himself a -hypocrite. - -Hampden, Regius Professor of Theology at Oxford, formed another object -of High Church attack. He had been condemned by the university -on account of doctrines alleged to be anti-Trinitarian, and his -appointment by a Whig ministry to a bishopric caused a renewal of the -onslaught, which, however, only served by its failure to emphasize -the fact that the Church of England was in complete subjection to -the state. In this, as in the general commotion, prominently figured -Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford, son of the great evangelical and -philanthropist, a man gifted, dexterous, and versatile, who would have -made a first-rate advocate or politician, balancing himself with one -foot on his hereditary Evangelicism, the other on High Churchmanship, -to which, in his heart, as a hierarch, he inclined. A character so -ambiguous could make little impression, however great his abilities -might be. - -James Anthony Froude had been a follower and fellow-worker of Newman. -But on Newman’s secession he not only hung back, but violently recoiled -and produced a highly sceptical work, _The Nemesis of Faith_, which -entailed his resignation of a clerical fellowship in an Oxford college. -Then he exemplified the strange variations of the age by coming out as -an historian in the colors of Carlyle. - -Carlyle himself is not to be left out of sight in an account of the -progress of religious thought; for his Scotch Calvinism, transmuted -into hero worship, has taken a strong hold, if not on the distinct -convictions, on the sentiment and temper of the nation. If he has -administered wholesome rebuke to the self-complacency of democracy with -its ballot-box, he has also set up a worship of force and kindled a -spirit of violence totally subversive of the Sermon on the Mount. - -Matthew Arnold, with his silver shafts, was rather a connoisseur in -all lines than a serious philosopher or theologian; but he also, -with his conversion of God into the “not ourselves which makes for -righteousness,” did something in his light but insinuating and -charming way to forward disintegration. - -But in 1874–77 appeared _Supernatural Religion_, a searching and -uncompromising inquiry into the historical evidences of supernatural -Christianity. The book, though attacked on secondary points with -perhaps superior learning by Bishop Lightfoot, Bishop Westcott, -and others, cannot be said to have met with any general answer. -Supplemented in some respects by Dr. Martineau’s _Seat of Authority in -Religion_ and other works on the same side, it sets forth the sceptic’s -case against the supernatural. - -Miracles, says criticism, belong to an age of ignorance. With the dawn -of knowledge they diminish. In its meridian light they disappear. The -Jews were eminently addicted to belief in miracles. There was Satanic -miracle as well as divine; nor can any distinction be drawn as a matter -of evidence between the two. As little can any distinction be drawn in -point of evidence between the Gospel miracles and the ecclesiastical -miracles, which nevertheless Protestants reject. The miracles of one -sort, the demoniac, are bound up with the Jewish belief in possession -by personal devils, from which all efforts to disentangle them so as -to resolve them into cures of lunacy by moral influence are vain. The -four Gospels and the Acts, which comprise the historic evidences, are -all anonymous, all of uncertain authorship. The first three Gospels -are evident incrustations upon an older document which is lost and -about which nothing is known. In not one of the five cases can the -existence of the book be traced to the time of the events or a time -so near the events as to preclude the growth of fable in a highly -superstitious and totally uncritical age. The presentation of Christ’s -character and teaching in the fourth Gospel, which is Alexandrian, is -far from identical with the presentation in the first three Gospels, -which are Jewish. There are irreconcilable discrepancies between the -Gospels as to matters of fact, notably in regard to the genealogy of -Christ, the length of his mission, the Last Supper, the day of the -Crucifixion, the details of the Resurrection and the Ascension. Such -miracles as the miraculous darkness, the earthquake, the rending of -the veil of the Temple, the opening of the tombs and the apparition -of the dead in the streets of Jerusalem, being totally unconfirmed by -history or by any recorded effect, stagger belief. Such testimony as -St. Paul bears to the Resurrection is second hand, is that of a convert -in the ecstasy of conversion, and is manifestly uncritical. His own -enthusiasm is intelligible on merely human grounds. We may be sure that -had God become incarnate to save man, absolutely conclusive proof of -that fact would have been vouchsafed. But the proof is not sufficient -to establish anything not otherwise perfectly credible, far less to -establish the miraculous Birth, the Resurrection, and the Incarnation. -Such in broad outline is the case of Rationalism against Supernatural -Religion presented by the work just mentioned and its allies. The -effects are visible even in High Church writings. In the writings of -liberals, of course, they are still more visible. Jowett had come to -the conclusion that our sources of knowledge about Christ had been -reduced to a single document, no longer in existence, which formed the -basis of the first three Gospels. - -The desire to minimize the supernatural and throw it into the -background, bringing the personal character of Christ and his ethical -teaching into the foreground, is now manifest in English, as it has -long been in German, divines. It is conspicuous in the very popular -and colorably orthodox works of Dr. Farrar. In his _Life of Lives_ -the supernatural has little place. There is an evident tendency -throughout to disentangle from it the character and moral teaching. -Responsibility for belief in the Godhead of Christ seems to rest on -the Nicene Council. In the _Life of Christ_ we see reduced to a natural -occurrence the miracle of Gadara, where the devils cast out of the -men enter into the herd of swine. It is needless to say that with the -miraculous element of these occurrences their value as evidence for the -supernatural disappears. - -Scotland generally remained fast bound by her Westminster Confession. -There had been a period of liberalism marked by the appearance of -“Jupiter” Carlyle; Robertson, the historian; Dugald Stewart, and -other philosophers and men of mind. But the Church of Scotland being -democratic, its faith was in the keeping of the people, who were -impervious to criticism and naturally opposed to innovation. At last, -however, the thaw came, hastened perhaps by the collision between -the state Church of Scotland and the Free Church. The Westminster -Confession, it seems, has now been tacitly laid aside, and Scotch -theology has had its Robertson Smith, whose critical views on the Old -Testament earned him removal from his professorial chair. - -Another book which in its day startled the world and awakened all -the echoes of orthodox alarm was Buckle’s _History of Civilization_, -in which the characters of nations and the progress of humanity were -traced to physical influences, excluding the moral and by implication -the theistic element. Its thesis was supported by an overwhelming -display of learning. Though not expressly, it was in its tenor hostile -to religious belief. Of Buckle’s work less is now heard, but it had an -influence in its day, perhaps more in America than in its native land. -Americans, it seems, were captured both by the boldness of the theory -and by the imposing display of erudition. - -In the line of learned and dispassionate research France has produced -Renan, whose _Life of Jesus_ especially made a vast impression on -Europe, and still probably exercises an influence by virtue not only -of the boldness of the speculation and the intense interest of the -subject, but of the extreme beauty of the style. The work, however, is -one in which imagination acts strongly on history. It lacks critical -basis; not that the author fails fully to set out his authorities, but -that in his narrative he fails to discriminate among them. One incident -is treated as real, another as mythical, to suit the requirements of -poetical conception, without reason assigned for the distinction. There -seems no reason, for example, why the miracle of the raising of Lazarus -should be treated as historical, though in the sense of imposture or -illusion, while other miracles are treated as totally unhistoric. Nor -is the portrait free from a French and slightly sensuous cast. From the -whole body of Renan’s histories of Israel, of Christ, and of the early -Church the supernatural is entirely excluded. - -The Roman Catholic Church has not suffered from criticism—historical, -literary, or scientific—in the same way as the Protestant Churches, -that is, internally, because it depends not so much on intellectual -conviction as on ecclesiastical organization, and rests comparatively -little on the authority of the Bible. Its priesthood has not been -affected like the clergy of the Church of England or the ministries of -the Protestant Churches. But it has everywhere been losing the educated -classes, or retained a part of them, not so much from conviction—still -less from speculative conviction—as because its alliance is congenial -to political and social reaction. Its inability to come to terms -with science has been shown by the recent case of St. George Mivart, -and scientific eminence among Roman Catholics is rare. In Italy, the -centre of the system, while the poorer classes still flock to the -liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius at Naples or the exudation -of the bones of St. Andrew at Amalfi, still climb the Holy Staircase on -their knees or make pilgrimages to the House of Loretto, the general -tone of intelligence is described as sceptical, though aristocratic -families, more especially those of Papal creation, adhere to the Papacy -on political and social rather than on religious grounds. Near to the -shrine of Ignatius Loyola stands the statue of Giordano Bruno, on the -spot of his martyrdom by fire, “dedicated to him by the age which he -foresaw.” Attempts have been made to liberalize the Church of Rome -and enable it to float with the current of the day, but they have -failed. Pio Nono for a time put himself at the head of the popular and -liberal movement in Italy. But he soon found, as Carlyle said, that -it was an alarming undertaking. Lamennais’s attempt at liberalization -ended, after a long intellectual agony, in his own secession. The -combined attempt of Lacordaire to liberalize ecclesiastically, and of -Montalembert to liberalize politically, had a scarcely less melancholy -result; both of them died under the shadow of Papal displeasure or -of that of the Jesuit party, by which the Papacy was controlled. -The defiantly reactionary spirit of Ultramontanism de Maistre has -prevailed. The Jesuit has ruled at the Vatican. Under his guidance the -Papacy has proclaimed the infallibility of the Pope and the Immaculate -Conception of the Virgin, thus breaking completely and finally with -reason and with all who, like the “Old Catholics” in Germany, remained -in some degree within that pale. It has gained in its own despite in -respectability and influence by deprivation of its temporal power, -against which the Prisoner of the Vatican still hopelessly protests. - -In France the national religion, abolished and persecuted by the -Jacobins, was restored for a political purpose by Napoleon. The new -Charlemagne was requited with the degradation of the Pope, who came to -Paris to crown him on the morrow of the murder of the Duc d’Enghien -and broke the best traditions of the Holy See by failing to veto the -divorce from Josephine. Identified with political reaction under the -restored Bourbons, the Church nearly suffered wreck in the revolution -by which they were overthrown. She remained the object of intense -and persecuting hatred to the revolutionary and republican party. -Plaintively, when the Orleans monarchy fell, she chanted _Domine salvum -fac populum_. Joyously, when the Empire succeeded, she chanted _Domine -salvum fac Imperatorem_. But the Empire in its turn fell. The Church -has continued to ally herself with political reaction and aristocratic -hostility to the Republic, though she has latterly been receiving hints -from the Vatican that the Republic is strong, that the monarchical -and imperial pretenders both are weak. The consequence is a violence -of hostility on the part of the Radicals and Socialists which assails -not only monastic fraternities, but educational institutions and -even charitable institutions in clerical hands, and has produced an -infidel literature carrying blasphemy to the height almost of frenzy -and culminating in a comic _Life of Christ_. The official world of -France is almost formally infidel, and a religious expression would be -very injurious to a politician. On the other hand, the Church braves -and exasperates public reason with apparitions of the Virgin and the -miracles of Lourdes. Over most of the women, the priest still holds -sway. Of the men, not many are seen in churches. The general attitude -of the educated towards religion seems to be not so much that of -hostility as that of total indifference, a state of estrangement more -hopeless than hostility itself. - -There is in France a Protestant Church, of which Guizot was an -eminent member, and which in his time was renewing its life. But -there was a schism in it between an evangelical party and a party -which was entirely rationalist, Guizot belonging to the first, his -son-in-law to the second; and rationalism seems to have prevailed. -With the Protestant party of France was allied an evangelical party -in Switzerland, of which Vinet was the most eloquent divine. But in -Vinet, as in liberal divines generally, we find an inclination to rest -on the spiritual rather than on the supernatural. In the city of Calvin -generally opinions appear to reign more opposed to the religion of -Calvin than those for which he burned Servetus. - -But of the disintegrating forces criticism—the Higher Criticism as -it is the fashion to call it—has by no means been the only one. -Another, and perhaps in recent times the more powerful, has been -science, from which Voltaire and the earlier sceptics received little -or no assistance in their attacks; for they were unable to meet even -the supposed testimony of fossils to the Flood. It is curious that -the bearing of the Newtonian astronomy on the Biblical cosmography -should not have been before perceived; most curious that it should -have escaped Newton himself. His system plainly contravened the idea -which made the earth the centre of the universe, with heaven above -and hell below it, and by which the cosmography alike of the Old and -the New Testament is pervaded. Yet the Star of Bethlehem remained -little disturbed as an article of faith. The first destructive blow -from the region of science was perhaps dealt by geology, which showed -that the earth had been gradually formed, not suddenly created, that -its antiquity immeasurably transcended the orthodox chronology, and -that death had come into the world long before man. Geologists, scared -by the echoes of their own teaching, were fain to shelter themselves -under allegorical interpretations of Genesis totally foreign to the -intentions of the writer; making out the “days” of Creation to be æons, -a version which, even if accepted, would not have accounted for the -entrance of death into the world before the creation of man. Those -who attended the lectures of Buckland and other geologists of that -generation well recollect the shifts to which science had recourse in -its efforts to avoid collision with the cosmogony supposed to have -been dictated by the Creator to the reputed author of the Pentateuch. -That the narrative of Genesis could hold its ground so long against -science was due at once to its dignity, which earned for it the praise -of Longinus, and to its approximation to scientific truth in describing -the universe as the work of a single mind. These characteristics -have even in the day of geology and Darwin raised up for it such an -apologist as Mr. Gladstone, whose defence, however, amounts to this, -that the Creator, in giving an account of his own work to Moses, came -remarkably near the truth. - -The grand catastrophe, however, was the discovery of Darwin. This -assailed the belief that man was a distinct creation, apart from all -other animals, with an immortal soul specially breathed into him by -the author of his being. It showed that he had been developed by a -natural process out of lower forms of life. It showed that instead of -a fall of man there had been a gradual rise, thus cutting away the -ground of the Redemption and the Incarnation, the fundamental doctrines -of the orthodox creed. For the hypothesis of creation generally was -substituted that of evolution by some unknown but natural force. - -Not only to revealed or supernatural but to natural religion a heavy -blow was dealt by the disclosure of wasted æons and abortive species -which seem to preclude the idea of an intelligent and omnipotent -designer. - -The chief interpreters of science in its bearing on religion were, -in England, Tyndall and Huxley. Tyndall always declared himself a -materialist, though no one could less deserve the name if it implied -anything like grossness or disregard of the higher sentiments. He -startled the world by his declaration that matter contained the -potentiality of all life, an assertion which, though it has been found -difficult to prove experimentally, there can be less difficulty in -accepting, since we see life in rudimentary forms and in different -stages of development. Huxley wielded a trenchant pen and was an -uncompromising servant of truth. A bitter controversy between him and -Owen arose out of Owen’s tendency to compromise. He came at one time -to the extreme conclusion that man was an automaton, which would have -settled all religious and moral questions out of hand; but in this -he seemed afterwards to feel that he had gone too far. An automaton -automatically reflecting on its automatic character is a being which -seems to defy conception. The connection of action with motive, of -motive with character and circumstance, is what nobody doubts; but the -precise nature of the connection, as it is not subject, like a physical -connection, to our inspection, defies scrutiny, and our consciousness, -which is our only informant, tells us that our agency in some qualified -sense is free. - -Materialists or physicists such as Tyndall and Huxley, or their -counterparts on the Continent, would console us for the loss of -religion by substituting the majesty of law. But the idea of law -implies a law-giver or an intelligent and authoritative imponent of -some kind. There is no majesty in a mere sequence, even the most -invariable and on the largest scale, the existence of which alone -physical science can prove. - -The all-embracing philosophy of Mr. Herbert Spencer excludes not only -the supernatural but theism in its ordinary form. Yet theism in a -subtle form may be thought to lurk in it. “By continually seeking,” -he says, “to know, and being continually thrown back with a deepened -conviction of the impossibility of knowing, we may keep alive the -consciousness that it is alike our highest wisdom and our highest duty -to regard that through which all things exist as the Unknowable.” In -this and subsequent passages he evidently looks upon the Unknowable as -an object of reverence, otherwise it would hardly be our highest duty -to regard it as that through which all things exist, or to maintain any -particular attitude towards it. But Unknowableness in itself excites -no reverence, even though it be supposed infinite and eternal. Nothing -excites our reverence but a person, or at least a Moral Being. There -lingers in Mr. Spencer’s mind the belief that the present limit of our -knowledge is the veil of the Deity. - -Had the Darwinian discoveries been known to Schopenhauer they would -have conspired with the earlier discoveries of science and with his -pitiless survey of the human lot to confirm him in the belief that this -was the worst of all possible worlds. Amid the general distraction -even pessimism has found adherents, and a European version of Buddhism -promising final relief from the miseries of conscious existence has -been accepted as an anodyne by troubled minds. - -Positivism, the work of Comte, totally discards belief in God and -treats theism in all its forms as merely a mode of contemplating -phenomena and a step in the course of human progress. Yet the -Positivist feels the need of a religion, and for the worship of God he -substitutes the worship of Humanity. Humanity is an abstraction and -an imperfect abstraction, the course of the human race having not yet -been run. It cannot hear prayer or respond in any way to adoration. The -adherents of Comte’s religion, therefore, are few, though those of his -philosophy are more numerous, and the religious Comtists appear to be -rather enthusiasts of Humanity than worshippers of the abstraction. - -A conspicuous though equivocal place among the defenders of revealed -religion in England was held by Mansel, professor of moral and -metaphysical philosophy at Oxford and afterwards dean of St. Paul’s. -Attempting in his Bampton lectures to make philosophy fall on its own -sword, he fell on his own sword in the attempt. He maintained that God, -being absolute, could not be apprehended by the finite intelligence -of man, and that the finite morality of man was not the same as the -absolute morality of God. Hence the passages of the Bible which seemed -to conflict with human morality really transcended it and were moral -miracles. In this Mansel was reviving the theory of Archbishop King -and Bishop Browne, who had maintained that our knowledge of God was -not actual, but merely analogous. The inference was promptly drawn by -Mansel’s opponents that what could not be apprehended could not be -matter of belief, and that he had therefore cut away the possibility -of belief in God. They even contended that he was too anti-theistic, -since he did away with all possibility of reverence for the Unknown. To -deny the identity of human with divine morality and assert that what -was immoral with man was moral with God was to sever the moral relation -between God and man, and, in effect, to destroy morality altogether. -We could conceive of only one morality, and acts ascribed to God which -violated that morality must be to us immoral. “If,” said John Stuart -Mill in the fervor of ethical protest, “an Almighty Being tells me that -I shall call that righteous which is wicked or go to hell, to hell I -will go.” - -To meet the inroads of science on Biblical cosmogony and cosmography -recourse was had to allegorical interpretation. But allegorical -interpretation cannot be forced upon a writer when it manifestly is not -in his mind. The writer or writers of Genesis undeniably intended his -or their statements to be taken literally. They meant that the earth -was really created in six days, as the Fourth Commandment assumes; that -the formation of Eve out of a rib of Adam, the temptation of Eve by the -serpent, and all the actions of the anthropomorphic God, who walks in -the garden at evening and makes garments for Adam and Eve, were actual -events. To foist upon them allegorical interpretation is to falsify -their testimony. Besides, instead of having the facts of the creation -revealed to us we are left to interpret allegory at a venture. - -Recourse has been had to the theory of partial inspiration, admitting -historical and even moral errors in Scripture, but setting them down -to the human element in the composition, which has to be recognized -without prejudice to that element which remains divine. Such a -collaboration of infallibility with fallibility, both historical and -moral, is a desperate hypothesis, especially when the object was to -reveal vital truths to man. Nor could man distinguish the human element -from the divine without being himself inspired and thus above the -need of revelation. A condescension of the divine to the primitive -shortcomings and aberrations of humanity is a solution surely opposed -to any conceivable purpose of revelation. - -Another line of defence has been the hypothesis, which may be called -quasi-inspiration, reducing the inspiration of the Scriptures to a -supreme degree of the same sort of inspiration which we recognize in -a great poet or a great author of any kind. This is mere playing with -the term “inspiration,” and little better than an equivoque. It may be, -and we hope it is, true that the Author of our being manifests Himself -in whatever is morally grand and elevating. But this belief is very -different from a belief in the special inspiration of the Bible. - -Evolution, again, which at first was repelled as atheistic, is now -adopted by some as the key to revelation and the solution of all -difficulties connected with it. This would make God in His revelation -of Himself to man, without apparent motive, subject Himself to a -physical or quasi-physical law, the knowledge of which has been -withheld from man till the present time. An imperfect revelation of -the divine character, one for example which should exhibit the justice -of God without His mercy, would be a deception of man instead of a -revelation. Besides, evolution repels finality, and we could have no -assurance that the manifestation of the divine nature in Christ and the -Gospel would be final. - -It is needless to say how manifestly all these theories have their -origin in controversial necessity, how totally alien they are to the -view taken hitherto by the Christian Churches of the Scriptures, and -how unlikely it is that God, in revealing Himself to man for the -purpose of human salvation, should have chosen a method such as would -entail inevitable misconstruction for many centuries and postpone the -true interpretation of His character and dealings to an age of human -criticism and science. - -The ethics of Christianity have hitherto comparatively escaped -systematic criticism and are still generally and officially professed. -An appeal to the principles of the Sermon on the Mount continues to -command formal respect. But Christ’s view of this world as evil and -his renunciation of it for the Kingdom of God have been practically -laid aside by all but specially religious men. Christ’s moral code -was, in its direct bearing, only personal or social, politics and -commerce not having come within the view of the teacher of Galilee. -In regard to public and international concerns, the abjuration of his -principles is most striking. In that sphere Christian meekness, mercy, -and self-sacrifice are being openly superseded by maxims drawn from -the Darwinian Struggle for Existence and by avowals of the right of -the strong. Even professed ministers of Christ have been pandering -to Imperialism and the lust of war. In truth, by a strange turn of -events, Christian ethics, in questions between nation and nation and in -questions concerning humanity at large, have been passing out of the -hands of the orthodox teachers of supernatural Christianity into those -of men who recognize only the human character and ethical teachings of -life. - -Professor Seeley in his earlier days had made a great impression -with his _Ecce Homo_, an attempt to bring the character of Christ -nearer to the heart of humanity. The work was decidedly pietist; yet -a rationalizing tendency was scented in it by the Evangelicals, whose -leader, Lord Shaftesbury, denounced it. Its author promised a theology. -But when, after years of reflection and subjection to the influences -of a moving time, the theology came, under the title of _Natural -Religion_, it was a total disappointment. Religion was reduced by it -to enthusiasm, not exclusively Christian or even theistic, but of any -kind, such as enthusiastic love of country or of art. - -Minds of the finer cast have preserved the religious spirit, while -they have thrown off the shackles of creed and even regarded the whole -religious question as matter of doubt and suspense. - - “There lives more faith in honest doubt, - Believe me, than in half the creeds.” - -This is the pervading spirit of Tennyson’s poems, and of such a work -as Amiel’s diary, but it must manifestly be confined to a circle of -minds such as those of Tennyson and Amiel. Agnosticism is the condition -into which a large number of educated minds have been more or less -consciously passing or drifting. But while in some of them a religious -spirit still prevails and the hope is cherished of a new religious -dawn, others seem to have finally settled in the conviction that -theological inquiry is hopeless and that our knowledge must forever be -bounded by that which our senses and science tell us about the laws or -forces of our own world. - -Reluctance to give up belief in the unseen world and perhaps still -more unwillingness to think that the loved ones who are lost by death -are lost forever have given birth to Spiritualism. It will hardly be -thought necessary to comment on an illusion which has been so often -and so decisively exposed. Its very name is belied when the spirits -have to materialize before they can make their existence known or hold -converse with those who evoke them. The alleged communications from the -spirit world through such a medium as Planchette have been trivial, -almost fatuous. It is now forgotten that the movement began with -table-turning, as though spirits had a special affinity for tables. - -Among the anti-theistic, or at least the anti-ecclesiastical, -influences and the solvents of our religious system may be reckoned the -foundation of systems of morality independent of the divine sanction. -Paley’s definition of virtue is “the doing good to mankind in obedience -to the will of God and for the sake of everlasting happiness.” This is -the theistic view. Opposed to it is the Utilitarian system, generally -connected with Bentham’s name, which finds the sole and sufficient -motive and reward of virtue in the promotion of our well-being here. -So long as a system aims at perfection and beauty of character which -transcend temporal happiness there is in the philosophy a theistic -element, patent or latent. But of perfection and beauty of character -the Utilitarian philosophy in its thorough-going form takes no account. - -The weakening of religious belief as a social influence on the -conservative side is very marked and excites the fears of statesmen, -some of whom, even if they are Protestants, are inclined to look with -complacency on the Papacy as a bulwark against social revolution. The -drudge rested in dull contentment with his lot while he could believe -that hereafter the parts of Dives and Lazarus would be reversed and -full amends would be made to him for his privations in this life. This -hope having vanished, he is resolved, if he can, to have a share of -the good things of the present world. That this sentiment helps to set -seething the caldron of socialistic and communistic agitation, all who -are familiar with labor literature must be aware. It would probably be -found that anarchism and atheism generally went together. - -As the natural consequence of the loosened hold of religion over -the nations, there has been a general tendency in Europe towards -disestablishment. In Italy, the seat of the Papacy, disestablishment -is complete. In Spain, while Catholicism is still recognized as the -exclusive religion of the nation, the immense revenues of the clergy -have been secularized, monasteries have been dissolved, and religion -has been almost reduced to a department of the state. In France the -process has gone still further than in Spain, and religion may almost -be said to be not only a department, but a despised department, of the -state. In Ireland the state Church has been disestablished. A bill -has been brought in for the disestablishment of the Church in Wales, -and in England disestablishment seems to be approaching, its advent -being hastened by the collision of ritualism with the anti-Roman and -anti-sacerdotal spirit of the nation. Popular education has everywhere -been largely secularized, and that process is still going on. -Sunday-schools or other secondary influences can scarcely countervail -the general banishment of religion from the training of the child. - -Religion passed from old to New England in the form of a refugee -Protestantism of the most intensely Biblical and the most austere kind. -It had, notably in Connecticut, a code of moral and social law which, -if fully carried into effect, must have fearfully darkened life. It -produced in Jonathan Edwards the philosopher of Calvinism, from the -meshes of whose predestinarian logic it has been found difficult to -escape, though all such reasonings are practically rebutted by our -indefeasible consciousness of freedom of choice and of responsibility -as attendant thereon. New England Puritanism was intolerant, even -persecuting; but the religious founder and prophet of Rhode Island -proclaimed the principles of perfect toleration and of the entire -separation of the Church from the state. The ice of New England -Puritanism was gradually thawed by commerce, non-Puritan immigration -from the old country, and social influences, as much as by the force of -intellectual emancipation; though in founding universities and schools -it had in fact prepared for its own ultimate subversion. Unitarianism -was a half-way house through which Massachusetts passed into -thorough-going liberalism such as we find in Emerson, Thoreau, and the -circle of Brook Farm; and afterwards into the iconoclasm of Ingersoll. -The only Protestant Church of much importance to which the New World -has given birth is the Universalist, a natural offspring of democratic -humanity revolting against the belief in eternal fire. Enthusiasm -unilluminated may still hold its camp-meetings and sing “Rock of Ages” -in the grove under the stars. - -The main support of orthodox Protestantism in the United States now -is an off-shoot from the old country. It is Methodism, which, by the -perfection of its organization, combining strong ministerial authority -with a democratic participation of all members in the active service of -the Church, has so far not only held its own but enlarged its borders -and increased its power; its power, perhaps, rather than its spiritual -influence, for the time comes when the fire of enthusiasm grows cold -and class meetings lose their fervor. The membership is mostly drawn -from a class little exposed to the disturbing influences of criticism -or science; nor has the education of the ministers hitherto been -generally such as to bring them into contact with the arguments of the -sceptic. - -The character and intensity of the movement in Europe have been greatly -influenced by the existence of state Churches and the degrees of -obnoxious privilege which the state Churches severally have possessed. -Where the yoke of the establishment was heavy, as in France under -the Bourbons, free-thought has been lashed into fury; where, as in -England, the ecclesiastical polity has been comparatively mild, it -has taken the gentler form of evangelical dissent. In the United -States at the beginning of the last century there were faint relics of -state Churches, Churches, that is, recognized and protected, though -not endowed, by the state. But there has been little to irritate -scepticism or provoke it to violence of any kind, and the transition -has accordingly been tranquil. Speculation, however, has now arrived -at a point at which its results in the minds of the more inquiring -clergy come into collision with the dogmatic creeds of their Churches -and their ordination tests. Especially does awakened conscience rebel -against the ironclad Calvinism of the Westminster Confession. Hence -attempts, hitherto baffled, to revise the creeds; hence heresy trials, -scandalous and ineffective. - -Who can undertake to say how far religion now influences the inner -life of the American people? Outwardly life in the United States, in -the Eastern States at least, is still religious. Churches are well -maintained, congregations are full, offertories are liberal. It is -still respectable to be a church-goer. Anglicanism, partly from its -connection with the English hierarchy, is fashionable among the wealthy -in cities. We note, however, that in all pulpits there is a tendency -to glide from the spiritual into the social, if not into the material; -to edge away from the pessimistic view of the present world with which -the Gospels are instinct; to attend less exclusively to our future, and -more to our present state. Social reunions, picnics, and side-shows are -growing in importance as parts of the Church system. Jonathan Edwards, -if he could now come among his people, would hardly find himself at -home. - -The Catholic Church had come out to America in evil companionship with -Spanish conquest. Together with the Spanish colonies she decayed, and -her history during the past century in South America appears to have -been that of a miserable decline which could add nothing to religious -thought or history. Mexican liberalism, under the presidency of Juarez, -cast off allegiance to her, and a priest dared not show himself in -the dress of his order on the street. In French Canada the Catholic -Church has reigned over a simple peasantry, her own from the beginning, -thoroughly submissive to the priesthood, willing to give freely of its -little store for the building of churches which tower over the hamlet, -and sufficiently firm in its faith to throng to the fane of St. Anne -Beaupré for miracles of healing. She has kept the _habitant_ ignorant -and unprogressive, but made him, after her rule, moral, insisting on -early marriage, on remarriage, controlling his habits and amusements -with an almost Puritan strictness. Probably French Canada has been as -good and as happy as anything the Catholic Church had to show. The -priesthood was of the Gallican school. It lived on good terms with -the state, though in French Canada the state was a conqueror. From -fear of New England Puritanism it had kept its people loyal to Great -Britain during the Revolutionary war. From fear of French atheism it -kept its people loyal to Great Britain during the war with France. -It sang _Te Deum_ for Trafalgar. So things were till the other day. -But then came the Jesuit. He got back, from the subserviency of the -Canadian politicians, the lands which he had lost after the conquest -and the suppression of his Order. He supplanted the Gallicans, captured -the hierarchy and prevailed over the great Sulpician Monastery in -a struggle for the pastorate of Montreal. Other influences have of -late been working for change in a direction neither Gallican nor -Jesuit. Railroads have broken into the rural seclusion which favored -the ascendency of the priest. Popular education has made some way. -Newspapers have increased in number and are more read. The peasant -has been growing restive under the burden of tithe and _fabrique_. -Many of the _habitants_ go into the Northern States of the Union for -work, and return to their own country bringing with them republican -ideas. Americans who have been shunning continental union from dread of -French-Canadian popery may lay aside their fears. - -It was a critical moment for the Catholic Church when she undertook to -extend her domain to the American Republic. She had there to encounter -a genius radically opposed to her own. The remnant of Catholic Maryland -could do little to help her on her landing. But she came in force with -the flood of Irish, and afterwards of South German, emigration. How -far she has been successful in holding these her lieges would be a -question difficult to decide, as it would involve a rather impalpable -distinction between formal membership and zealous attachment. That she -loses the zealous attachment of a great part of them in two or three -generations, and that of the South Germans more quickly than that -of the Irish, is what you are commonly told. Conversions of native -Americans flying from the distractions of controversy to the repose -of unity under authority there have been, but the number probably has -not been large. In America, as in England, Ritualism has served Roman -Catholicism as a tender. The critical question was how the religion of -the Middle Ages could succeed in making itself at home under the roof -of a democratic republic, the animating spirit of which was freedom, -intellectual and spiritual as well as political, while the wit of -its people was proverbially keen and their nationality was jealous as -well as strong. The Papacy may call itself universal; in reality, it -is Italian. During its sojourn in the French dominions the Popes were -French; otherwise they have been Italians, native or domiciled, with -the single exception of the Flemish Adrian VI., thrust into the chair -of St. Peter by his pupil, Charles V., and by the Italians treated with -contumely as an alien intruder. The great majority of the Cardinals -always has been and still is Italian. National susceptibilities, -therefore, were pretty sure to be aroused. In meeting the difficulties -of her new situation Rome has shown a certain measure of pliability. -She has not thrust the intolerance and obscurantism of the encyclical -in the face of the disciples of Jefferson. She has paid all due homage -to republican institutions, alien though they are to her own spirit, -as her uniform action in European politics hitherto has proved. She -has made little show of relics. She has abstained from miracles. The -adoration of Mary and the saints, though of course fully maintained, -appears to be less prominent. Compared with the mediæval cathedral and -its multiplicity of side chapels, altars, and images, the cathedral -at New York strikes one as the temple of a somewhat rationalized -version. Against Puritan intolerance of Popery, if any remnant of it -remained, the Catholic vote has been a sufficient safeguard. To part -of the American people, especially to wealthy New York, the purple of -the cardinalate and the pomp of Catholic worship have of late been by -no means uncongenial. Yet between the spirit of American nationality, -even in the most devout Catholic, and that of the Jesuit or the native -liegeman of Rome, there cannot fail to be an opposition more or less -acute, though it may be hidden as far as possible under a decent veil. -This was seen in the case of Father Hecker, who had begun his career as -a Socialist at Brook Farm, and, as a convert to Catholicism, founded -a missionary order, the keynote of which was that “man’s life in the -natural and secular order of things is marching towards freedom and -personal independence.” This he described as a radical change, and a -radical change it undoubtedly was from the sentiments and the system -of Loyola. Condemnation by Rome could not fail to follow. Education -has evidently been the scene of a subterranean conflict between the -Jesuit and the more liberal, or, what is much the same thing, the -more American section. The American and liberal head of a college -has been deposed, under decorous pretences, it is true, but still -deposed. Envoys have come out from Rome to arbitrate and compose. -Some of the Catholic prelates, it appears, are very willing to show -their liberality by co-operating in charitable work with the clergy -of Protestant churches; others decline that association. One prelate, -at all events, is an active politician and a conspicuous worshipper -of the flag. Others strictly confine themselves to the ecclesiastical -sphere. The laity in general seem to take little account of these -variations, regarding them rather as personal peculiarities than as -divisions of the Church. In the American or any other branch of the -Roman Catholic Church freedom of inquiry and advance in thought are of -course impossible. Nothing is possible but immobility, or reaction such -as that of the Syllabus. Dr. Brownson, like Hecker, a convert, showed -after his conversion something of the spirit of free inquiry belonging -to his former state, though rather in the line of philosophy than in -that of theology, properly speaking. But if he ever departed from -orthodoxy he returned to it and made a perfectly edifying end. - -In our survey of the religious world we are apt to leave out of sight -a fourth part or more of Christendom. When the Anglican Bishops some -years ago were challenged to say whether they were or were not in -communion with the Eastern Church, that is with the Church of Russia, -their answer was in effect that the Eastern Church was so remote that -they could not tell. The Russian Church has been and is, in truth, -remote from the life, the progress, the thought, and the controversies -of the other members of Christendom. It has passed through no crisis, -undergone no change analogous either to the Reformation or to the Roman -Catholic reaction. Such conflicts or controversies as it has had have -been ceremonial, not doctrinal or spiritual. Its great reformer, if -he can be so called, Nicon, was a thorough-going ceremonialist and -initiated no doctrinal innovation. The movement of its non-conformists, -the Starovers, is not a counterpart of that of Protestant -non-conformists, but a ritualistic reaction. It differs theologically -from the Roman Catholic and the Anglican churches on the article in -the Creed respecting the procession of the Holy Ghost. But its more -practical grounds of difference probably are its abhorrence of images -and of instrumental music and its practice of baptism by immersion. -It is more sacramental than the Roman Catholic Church, administering -the Eucharist as well as baptism to infants. While it abhors images, -it adores pictures, provided they are archaic and not works of art, -having an instinctive perception of the tendency of art to open the -door for humanity. But it is less sacerdotal, compulsory marriage of -the clergy, instead of celibacy, being its rule. Monastic it is, but -its monachism is of the Eastern and eremitic type, not like the active -monachism of the Franciscan, the Dominican, or the Jesuit. The Russian -Church is intensely national, a character stamped upon it by the long -struggle for independence against the Mohammedan Tartars. The head of -the nation is the head of the Church. The Czar is Pope, as the Emperor -practically was of that Byzantine Church of which the Russian Church -is the daughter. He presides over the ecclesiastical councils. The -abolition of the Patriarchate removed the last rival of his power. -Peter the Great, when asked to restore the office, exclaimed, “I am -your Patriarch,” flung down his hunting knife on the table, and said, -“There is your Patriarch.” - -Attempts have been made both by Gallicans and Anglicans to negotiate a -union with the Eastern Church as a counterpoise to the Papacy. But they -have been baffled by the intense nationality and antiquated ritualism -rather than by the difference about an article in the Athanasian Creed. -The upshot has been the intellectual immobility of the Russian Church, -whose compartment in the theological history of the last century is a -blank. - -Such is the position in which at the close of the last century -Christendom seems to have stood. Outside the pale of reason—of -reason; we do not say of truth—were the Roman Catholic and Eastern -Churches; the Roman Catholic Church resting on tradition, sacerdotal -authority, and belief in present miracles; the Eastern Church supported -by tradition, sacerdotal authority, nationality, and the power of -the Czar. Scepticism had not eaten into a Church, preserved, like -that of Russia, by its isolation and intellectual torpor; though -some wild sects had been generated, and Nihilism, threatening with -destruction the Church as well as the state, had appeared on the scene. -Into the Roman Catholic Church scepticism had eaten deeply, and had -detached from her, or was rapidly detaching, the intellect of educated -nations, while she seemed resolutely to bid defiance to reason by her -Syllabus, her declaration of Papal infallibility, her proclamation of -the Immaculate Conception of Mary. Outside the pale of traditional -authority and amenable to reason stood the Protestant Churches, -urgently pressed by a question as to the sufficiency of the evidences -of supernatural Christianity, above all, of its vital and fundamental -doctrines: the Fall of Man, the Incarnation, and the Resurrection. -The Anglican Church, a fabric of policy compounded of Catholicism -without a Pope and Biblical Protestantism, was in the throes of a -struggle between those two elements, largely antiquarian and of little -importance compared with the vital question as to the evidences of -revelation and the divinity of Christ. - -In the Protestant churches generally æstheticism had prevailed. Even -the most austere of them had introduced Church art, flowers, and -tasteful music; a tendency which, with the increased craving for -rhetorical novelty in the pulpit, seemed to show that the simple Word -of God and the glad tidings of salvation were losing their power and -that human attractions were needed to bring congregations together. - -The last proposal had been that dogma, including the belief in the -divinity of Christ, having become untenable should be abandoned, and -that there should be formed a Christian Church with a ritual and -sacraments, but without the Christian creed, though still looking up -to Christ as its founder and teacher; an organization which, having no -definite object and being held together only by individual fancy, would -not be likely to last long. - -The task now imposed on the liegemen of reason seems to be that of -reviewing reverently, but freely and impartially, the evidences both -of supernatural Christianity and of theism, frankly rejecting what -is untenable, and if possible laying new and sounder foundations in -its place. To estimate the gravity of the crisis we have only to -consider to how great an extent our civilization has hitherto rested -on religion. It may be found that after all our being is an insoluble -mystery. If it is, we can only acquiesce and make the best of our -present habitation; but who can say what the advance of knowledge may -bring forth? Effort seems to be the law of our nature, and if continued -it may lead to heights beyond our present ken. In any event, unless -our inmost nature lies to us, to cling to the untenable is worse than -useless; there can be no salvation for us but in truth. - - GOLDWIN SMITH. - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - - -Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant -preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. - -Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced -quotation marks retained. - -Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained; occurrences of -inconsistent hyphenation have not been changed. - -Redundant chapter titles have been removed. - -The name “Van ’t Hoff” always was misprinted as “Van’t Hoff” in the -original book. That misprint has been retained here. - -Page 40 of the Chemistry chapter uses Dalton’s symbols for the four -atoms in five molecules: a circle with horizontal lines (hl), a circle -with vertical lines (vl), a circle with a dot in its center (cd), and a -hollow circle (hc). If your text viewer cannot display those symbols, -the five molecules, in sequence, are: hl-cd, cd-vl-cd, vl-hc, hc-vl-hc, -and cd-hc. - -Other pages in the Chemistry chapter contain diagrams of molecular -structures. Those diagrams only display properly when a fixed-width -font is used. - -Subscripts in the Chemistry chapter are shown full-height, e.g., H2O. - -Text sometimes expresses fractions with a dash instead of a slash. That -notation has been retained here. - -Page 46: The original book used “Zu” as the symbol for zinc. - -Page 122: “entirely changed by” was printed as “charged”; changed here. - -Page 139: “barometric” was printed as “barometic”; changed here. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Progress of the Century, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROGRESS OF THE CENTURY *** - -***** This file should be named 55546-0.txt or 55546-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/5/4/55546/ - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Progress of the Century - -Author: Various - -Release Date: September 14, 2017 [EBook #55546] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROGRESS OF THE CENTURY *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, 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> - - -<h1 class="gesperrt wspace">THE PROGRESS<br /> -<span class="small">OF THE</span><br /> -<span class="larger">CENTURY</span></h1> - -<p class="center narrow vspace wspace">BY ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE; PROF. WILLIAM -RAMSAY; PROF. WILLIAM MATTHEW FLINDERS-PETRIE; -SIR JOSEPH NORMAN LOCKYER; EDWARD -CAIRD; WILLIAM OSLER; W. W. KEEN; PROF. -ELIHU THOMSON; PRESIDENT THOMAS CORWIN -MENDENHALL; SIR CHARLES WENTWORTH DILKE; -CAPTAIN ALFRED T. MAHAN; ANDREW LANG; -THOMAS C. CLARKE; CARDINAL JAMES GIBBONS; -REV. ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN; PROF. -RICHARD J. H. GOTTHEIL; PROF. GOLDWIN SMITH</p> - -<div class="figcenter p2" style="max-width: 5.4375em;"> -<img src="images/i_001.jpg" width="87" height="104" alt="Publisher’s Logo" /> -</div> - -<p class="p2 center vspace wspace">NEW YORK AND LONDON<br /> -HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS<br /> -<span class="smaller">1901</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="newpage p4 center vspace"> -<span class="smaller">Copyright, 1901, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.<br /> -Copyright, 1901, by <span class="smcap">The Sun Printing and Publishing Association</span>.<br /> -<i>All rights reserved.</i></span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iii">iii</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="intact"><a id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<div class="center"><div class="centerblock"> -<table id="toc" summary="Contents"> - <tr class="small"> - <td class="nobpad"> </td> - <td class="tdr nobpad w3">PAGE</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">EVOLUTION. <span class="smcap">By Alfred Russel Wallace, LL.D., D.C.L., F.R.S</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#EVOLUTION">3</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">CHEMISTRY. <span class="smcap">By Prof. William Ramsay, Ph.D., F.R.S., F.C.S., Officer of the Legion of Honor</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CHEMISTRY">33</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">ARCHÆOLOGY. <span class="smcap">By Prof. William Matthew Flinders-Petrie, D.C.L., LL.D., Edwards Professor of Egyptology, University College, London</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#ARCHAEOLOGY">73</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">ASTRONOMY. <span class="smcap">By Sir Joseph Norman Lockyer, C.B., F.R.S., Director of Solar Physics Observatory, South Kensington</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#ASTRONOMY">105</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">PHILOSOPHY. <span class="smcap">By Edward Caird, LL.D., D.C.L., Professor of Moral Philosophy, Glasgow</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#PHILOSOPHY">145</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">MEDICINE. <span class="smcap">By William Osler, LL.D., Professor of Medicine and Physician to Hospital, Johns Hopkins Medical School</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#MEDICINE">173</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">SURGERY. <span class="smcap">By W. W. Keen, M.D., LL.D., F.R.C.S. (Hon.), Professor of the Principles of Surgery and of Clinical Surgery, Jefferson Medical College, Philadelphia</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#SURGERY">217</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">ELECTRICITY. <span class="smcap">By Prof. Elihu Thomson, A.M., Ph.D., Chevalier and Officer of the Legion of Honor</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#ELECTRICITY">265</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">PHYSICS. <span class="smcap">By President Thomas Corwin Mendenhall, Ph.D., D.Sc., LL.D., Member National Academy of Science</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#PHYSICS">303</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">WAR. <span class="smcap">By the Right Hon. Sir Charles Wentworth Dilke, LL.M.</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#WAR">333</a><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_iv">iv</a></span></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">NAVAL SHIPS. <span class="smcap">By Captain Alfred T. Mahan, late U.S.N., D.C.L., LL.D.</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#NAVAL_SHIPS">355</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">LITERATURE. <span class="smcap">By Andrew Lang, Hon. Fellow Merton College, Oxford</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#LITERATURE">389</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">ENGINEERING. <span class="smcap">By Thomas C. Clarke. Past President of the American Society of Civil Engineers</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#ENGINEERING">421</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl nobpad">RELIGION:</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Catholicism. By Cardinal James Gibbons</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#CATHOLICISM">455</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Protestantism. By Rev. Alexander V. G. Allen, Professor of Church History in the Episcopal Theological School at Cambridge, Mass.</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#PROTESTANTISM">477</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">The Jews and Judaism. By Professor Richard J. H. Gottheil</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#THE_JEWS_AND_JUDAISM">498</a></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl in2"><span class="smcap">Free-Thought. By Professor Goldwin Smith</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#FREE-THOUGHT">539</a></td></tr> -</table> -</div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3">3</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="EVOLUTION"></a>EVOLUTION</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap al"><span class="smcap1">Among</span> the great and fertile scientific conceptions -which have either originated or become firmly established -during the nineteenth century, the theory of -evolution, if not the greatest of them all, will certainly -take its place in the front rank. As a partial explanation -(for no complete explanation is possible to finite intelligence) -of the phenomena of nature, it illuminates -every department of science, from the study of the most -remote cosmic phenomena accessible to us to that of the -minutest organisms revealed by the most powerful microscopes; -while upon the great problem of the mode of -origin of the various forms of life—long considered insoluble—it -throws so clear a light that to many biologists -it seems to afford as complete a solution, in principle, as -we can expect to reach.</p> - -<h3>THE NATURE AND LIMITS OF EVOLUTION</h3> - -<p>So many of the objections which are still made to the -theory of evolution, and especially to that branch of it -which deals with living organisms, rest upon a misconception -of what it professes to explain, and even of what -any theory can possibly explain, that a few words on -its nature and limits seem to be necessary.</p> - -<p>Evolution, as a general principle, implies that all things -in the universe, as we see them, have arisen from other -things which preceded them by a process of modification, -under the action of those all-pervading but mysterious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4">4</a></span> -agencies known to us as “natural forces,” or, more generally, -“the laws of nature.” More particularly the term -evolution implies that the process is an “unrolling,” or -“unfolding,” derived probably from the way in which -leaves and flowers are usually rolled up or crumpled up -in the bud and grow into their perfect form by unrolling -or unfolding. Insects in the pupa and vertebrates in the -embryo exhibit a somewhat similar condition of folding, -and the word is therefore very applicable to an extensive -range of phenomena; but it must not be taken as universally -applicable, since in the material world there are -other modes of orderly change under natural laws to -which the terms development or evolution are equally -applicable. The “continuity” of physical phenomena, -as illustrated by the late Sir William Grove in 1866, has -the same general meaning, but evolution implies more -than mere continuity or succession—something like -growth or definite change from form to form under the -action of unchangeable laws.</p> - -<p>The point to be especially noted here is, that evolution, -even if it is essentially a true and complete theory -of the universe, can only explain the existing conditions -of nature by showing that it has been derived from -some pre-existing condition through the action of known -forces and laws. It may also show the high probability -of a similar derivation from a still earlier condition; but -the further back we go the more uncertain must be our -conclusions, while we can never make any real approach -to the absolute beginnings of things. Herbert Spencer, -and many other thinkers before him, have shown that -if we try to realize the absolute nature of the simplest -phenomena, we are inevitably landed either in a contradiction -or in some unthinkable proposition. Thus, suppose -we ask, Is matter infinitely divisible, or is it not? -If we say it is, we cannot think it out, since all infinity, -however it may be stated in words, is really unthinkable.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5">5</a></span> -If we say there is a limit—the ultimate atom—then, -as all size is comparative, we can imagine a being to -whom this atom seems as large as an apple or even a -house does to us; and we then find it quite unthinkable -that this mass of matter should be in its nature -absolutely indivisible even by an infinite force. It -follows that all explanations of phenomena can only be -partial explanations. They can inform us of the last -change or the last series of changes which brought about -the actual conditions now existing, and they can often -enable us to predict future changes to a limited extent; -but both the infinite past and the remote future are alike -beyond our powers. Yet the explanations that the -theory of evolution gives us are none the less real and -none the less important, especially when we compare its -teachings with the wild guesses or the total ignorance -of the thinkers of earlier ages.</p> - -<h3>THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF THE IDEA OF EVOLUTION</h3> - -<p>If we trace, however briefly, the gradual development -of knowledge and speculation on this subject, we shall -perhaps appreciate more fully the advance we have really -made during the present century.</p> - -<p>The first speculations on the nature and source of -the phenomena of the universe, of which we have any -knowledge, are those of the early Greek philosophers, -such as Thales, Anaximander, Anaxagoras, and Empedocles; -but as the more important of their teachings -are embodied, with some approach to system and with -much acuteness of reasoning, in the great poem of the -Latin author Lucretius, “On the Nature of Things,” -it will be sufficient to give a sketch of his main conclusions, -making use of the excellent prose translation by -Mr. H. A. J. Munro, of Trinity College, Cambridge.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6">6</a></span> -Lucretius had a very clear idea of the indestructibility -of matter. He argues that things cannot have come -out of nothing, and he says: “A thing never returns to -nothing, but all things, after disruption, go back into -the first bodies of matter.” He then argues that, as the -actual processes of growth, decay, and other natural -changes are imperceptible to us, therefore “Nature -works by unseen bodies.” He justly claims great importance -for the demonstration of the fact that in all -matter whatever, however solid and hard it may be, -there are vacancies, or, as he expresses it, “Mixed up -in all things there is void or empty space.” He thus -anticipated the modern doctrine that the molecules of -matter do not come into actual contact. He then defines -atoms thus: “First bodies are solid and without -void”; and as nothing can be produced from nothing, -he concludes that these first bodies (atoms or molecules) -must be everlasting, and that they supply matter for the -reproduction of all things.</p> - -<p>He then goes on to prove that these “first beginnings -are of solid singleness, not formed of parts, but strong -in everlasting singleness.” He further proves that -these “first beginnings” (atoms) cannot be infinitely -small, and also that the universe cannot be limited—that -it is infinite. He thus anticipated the main ideas -as to atoms and the universe which have been held by -most materialistic thinkers down to our own times.</p> - -<p>Lucretius was an absolute materialist, for though he -did not deny the existence of the gods he refused them -any share in the construction of the universe, which, -he again and again urges, arose by chance, after infinite -time, by the random motions and collisions and -entanglements of the infinity of atoms. He assumes -some forces analogous to gravitation and the molecular -motions of gases in the following passage: “For the -first beginnings of things move first of themselves; next<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7">7</a></span> -these bodies which form a small aggregate and come -nearest, so to say, to the powers of the first beginnings -are impelled and set in movement by the unseen strokes -of these first bodies, and they next in turn stir up other -bodies which are a little larger.”</p> - -<p>He also anticipated Galileo as to the equal speed of -all falling bodies when not checked by the air in the following -precise statement: “For whenever bodies fall -through water and thin air they must quicken their descents -in proportion to their weights, because the body -of water and subtle nature of air cannot retard everything -to an equal degree; on the other hand, empty void -cannot offer resistance to anything in any direction at -any time, but must continually give way; and for this -reason all things must be moved and borne along with -equal velocity, though of unequal weights, through the -unresisting void.”</p> - -<p>This is a wonderfully accurate general statement of -the equal rate of motion of all kinds of matter under the -same forces; and when we consider that there is no indication -of any experimental basis for this conclusion, -and that nothing equivalent to our sciences of physics -or chemistry existed, we are amazed at the general correctness -of many of his views, derived solely by a process -of reasoning from the most obvious phenomena of nature. -He argues that, given infinite matter and space and inherent -motion, “things must go on and be completed,” -and his general conclusion is thus expressed: “If you -will apprehend and keep in mind these things, nature, -free at once and rid of her haughty lords, is seen to do -all things spontaneously of herself without the meddling -of the gods.”</p> - -<p>It is when he attempts to deal with the origin of living -organisms that the absence of all knowledge of chemistry, -physiology, and histology renders his task impossible -and leads him into what seem to us the wildest<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8">8</a></span> -absurdities. He has an elaborate but very unconvincing -argument that sensation can arise out of atoms which -have no sensation; and, taking the appearance of worms, -etc., in the earth and in putrid matter as a proof that -they are still actually produced <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">de novo</i> in it, he argues -that at some remote epoch the now worn-out earth was -more fertile, and produced in like manner all kinds of -animals. The first human infants he supposes to have -been formed at some very remote time in the manner following: -“For much heat and moisture would then -abound in the fields; and therefore wherever a suitable -spot offered wombs would grow, attached to the earth -by roots; and when the warmth of the infants, flying -the wet and craving the air, had opened these in the fulness -of time, nature would turn to that spot the pores of -the earth and constrain it to yield from its opened veins -a liquid most like to milk. To the children the earth -would furnish food, the heat raiment, the grass a bed -rich in abundance of soft down.... Wherefore, again -and again I say, the earth, with good title, has gotten -and keeps the name of mother, since she of herself gave -birth to mankind, and at a time nearly fixed shed forth -every beast that ranges wildly over the great mountains, -and at the same time the fowls of the air with all their -varied shapes.”</p> - -<p>The fact that this mode of origin commended itself to -one of the brightest intellects of the first century <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, -enlightened by the best thought of the Grecian philosophers, -may enable us the better to appreciate the immense -advance made by modern evolutionists.</p> - -<h3>THE FIRST REAL STEPS TOWARDS EVOLUTION</h3> - -<p>We have now a great blank of fifteen centuries—the -dark ages of human progress—after which the era of -observation and experiment began, and for the first time<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9">9</a></span> -men really set themselves to study nature, thus laying -the foundation for all the great theoretical advances of -our time. As leading to the next great step in theories -of evolution, we must note the life-long observations by -Tycho Brahe of the apparent motions of the planets; -the grand discovery of Kepler that all these apparently -erratic motions were due to their revolution round the -sun in elliptic orbits, with a fixed relation between their -distance from the sun and their periods of revolution; -and Newton’s epoch-making theory of universal gravitation -by which all these facts and many others since -discovered were harmonized and explained.</p> - -<p>But all this implied no law of development, and it was -long thought that the solar system was fixed and unchangeable—that -some altogether unknown or miraculous -agency must have set it going, and that it had in -itself no principle of change or decay, but might continue -as it now is to all eternity. It was at the very end -of the eighteenth century that Laplace announced his -“Nebular Hypothesis,” the first attempt ever made to -explain the origin of the solar system under the influence -of the known laws of motion, gravitation, and heat, -acting upon an altogether different antecedent condition -of things—a true process of evolution.</p> - -<p>Laplace supposed that the whole matter of the solar -system was once in a condition of vapor, and that it -formed an enormous nebulous mass many times larger -than the then known dimensions of the planetary sphere. -He showed how, under the influence of gravitation, this -nebula would condense, and that such irregularities of -motion and density as would be sure to exist would lead -to rotation of the mass. Under the law of gravitation -this would lead to outer rings being left behind by the -contraction of the central mass, which rings would at a -later period become drawn together at some point of initial -greater density and thus form planets. The whole<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10">10</a></span> -process is admitted to be mathematically demonstrable, -given the initial conditions; but recent extensions of -our knowledge of the interplanetary and interstellar -spaces have shown that the supposed void is really full -of invisible solid matter, ranging from the bulk of the -smaller planets down to the finest dust, and it is very -difficult to imagine any possible causes which would -keep all the solid matter of the system in a state of vapor, -when subject, on the confines of the mass, to the cold -of interstellar space. The antecedent condition of our -system is now thought to have been either wholly or -partially meteoritic, but in either case we have a genuine -theory of its evolution which has now been so extended -as to include the appearance of comets and meteors, -of nebulæ, and star clusters, of temporary, periodic, -and colored stars, and many other phenomena of -the stellar universe. It is no objection to these grand -theories to urge that they do not explain the origin of -the matter of the universe, either what it is or how it -came to be where we now find it. We can only take one -step at a time, and even if in these greater problems any -further advance should be as yet denied us, it is still a -great thing to have been able to take even one secure -step into the vast and mysterious depths of the interstellar -spaces.</p> - -<h3>EVOLUTION OF THE EARTH’S CRUST</h3> - -<p>Although Pythagoras (500 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>) believed that sea and -land must often have changed places, and a few other observers -at different epochs came to the same conclusion, -yet, till quite recent times, the earth was generally supposed -to have been always very much as it is now; people -spoke of “the eternal hills”; and the great mountain -ranges, the mighty ravines and precipices, as well as -the deep seas and oceans, were believed to be the direct -work of the Creator.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11">11</a></span> -It was only in the latter half of the eighteenth century -that a few observers began to see the importance of studying -the nature of the earth’s crust, so far as it could be -reached in ravines, quarries, and mines; and one of the -most earnest of these students, Dr. Hutton, of Edinburgh, -after more than thirty years of travel and study, published -his great work, <cite>The Theory of the Earth</cite>, which -must be considered to be the starting-point of modern -geology. He maintained that it was only by observing -causes now in action that we can explain the phenomena -presented by the stratified and igneous rocks; he showed -that the former must have been laid down by water, and -that the larger part of them, containing as they do marine -shells and other fossils, must have been deposited -on the sea-bottom. He showed how rain and rivers, -frost and snow, wind and heat disintegrated the hardest -rocks and would in time excavate the deepest valleys; -while earthquakes, however small an elevation any one -of them might produce, would in time raise the sea-bottom -sufficiently high to form, when denuded, mountain -ranges, plains, and valleys like those we now see -everywhere upon the earth’s surface. He also showed -that the most ancient stratified rocks, those that lie at the -very base of the series, presented every indication of having -been formed in exactly the same way as the most -recent ones. Hence he stated a conclusion which excited -a storm of opposition, in these words: “In the -economy of the world I can find no traces of a beginning, -no prospect of an end.” This was thought to imply a -denial of creation, and was quite sufficient at that period -to prevent the work of any man of science from being -judged impartially.</p> - -<p>But although Playfair and a few others upheld Hutton’s -views, they were too novel to receive much support -by his contemporaries, and this was especially the case -as regards the slow and continuous action of existing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12">12</a></span> -causes being sufficient to account for all the known phenomena -presented by the crust of the earth. Hence the -belief in catastrophes and cataclysms—in great convulsions -tearing mountains asunder, and vast floods -sweeping over whole continents—continued to prevail, -till finally banished by the genius and perseverance of -one man, Sir Charles Lyell. His <cite>Principles of Geology</cite> -was first published in 1830, and successive editions, revised -and often greatly extended, continued to appear -till the author’s death, forty-five years later. As this -work affords a fine example of the application of the -principles of evolution to the later phases of the earth’s -history, and as it not only revolutionized scientific opinion -in its own domain, but prepared the way for the acceptance -of the still more novel and startling application -of the same principles to the entire organic world, it will -be necessary to show what opinions prevailed at the time -it first appeared in order that we may understand how -great was the change it effected.</p> - -<p>In the earlier years of the nineteenth century the -standard geological work, both in Great Britain and on -the Continent, was Cuvier’s <cite>Essay on the Theory of the -Earth</cite>. In 1827 a fifth edition of the English translation -appeared, and there was a German translation so late as -1830—sufficient proofs of its wide popularity. Yet this -work abounds in statements which are positively ludicrous -to any one conversant with modern geology. It -never appeals to known causes, but again and again assumes -forces to be at work for which no evidence is adduced -and which are totally at variance with what we see -in the world to-day. A few examples justifying these -statements must be here given. Cuvier shows that he -was acquainted with the theory of modern causes, but -he altogether rejects it, saying that “the march of nature -is changed, and none of the agents she now employs -would have been sufficient for the production of her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13">13</a></span> -ancient works.” He adduces “the primitive mountains” -whose “sharp and bristling ridges and peaks are indications -of the violent manner in which they have been -elevated.” He allows that atmospheric agencies may -form sea-cliffs, alluvial deposits, and taluses of loose matter -at the foot of the precipices, but he adds: “These are -but limited effects to which vegetation in general puts a -stop, and which, besides, presuppose the existence of -mountains, valleys, and plains—in short, all the inequalities -of the globe—and which, therefore, cannot -have given rise to those inequalities.” He contrasts the -calm and peaceful aspect of the surface of the earth with -the appearances discovered when we examine its interior. -Here, in the raised beds of shells, the fractured rocks, -the inclined or even vertical stratification, he finds abundant -proofs “that the surface of the globe has been broken -up by revolutions and catastrophes.”</p> - -<p>He also refers to the numerous large blocks of the -primitive rocks scattered over the surface of secondary -formations, and separated by deep valleys or even by arms -of the sea from the peaks or ridges from which they must -have been derived, as further proofs of catastrophes; -for, it is argued, they must have been either ejected by -volcanic eruptions or carried by waters, which, in either -case, “must have exceeded in violence anything we can -imagine at the present day,” and he therefore concludes -that “it is in vain we search among the powers which -now act upon the surface of the earth for causes sufficient -to produce the revolutions and catastrophes, the -traces of which are exhibited in its crust.” He is quite -confident that all these changes go on rapidly, periods -of catastrophe alternating with periods of repose. The -present surface of the earth he holds to be quite recent, -and he maintains “that, if anything in geology be established, -it is that the surface of our globe has undergone -a great and sudden revolution, the date of which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14">14</a></span> -cannot be referred to a much earlier period than five -or six thousand years ago; that this revolution overwhelmed -and caused to disappear the countries which -were previously inhabited by man, and the species of -animals now best known; that, on the other hand, it -laid dry the bottom of the last sea, and formed of it the -countries which are at the present day inhabited.” And -he further declares that “this event has been sudden, -instantaneous, without any gradation; and what is so -clearly demonstrated with respect to this last catastrophe -is not less so with reference to those which preceded -it.”</p> - -<p>The method followed by Lyell was the very reverse of -that of Cuvier. Instead of assuming hastily that modern -causes were totally inadequate, and appealing constantly -to purely imaginary and often inconceivable -catastrophes, Lyell investigated these causes with painstaking -accuracy, applying the tests of survey and time -measurement, so as in many cases to prove that, given -moderately long periods of time—not a few thousands -only, but hundreds of thousands of years—they were -fully adequate to explain the phenomena. He also -showed that the imaginary causes of Cuvier would not -explain the facts, for that everywhere in the crust of the -earth we found conclusive proofs of very slow continuous -changes exactly analogous to what now occur, never of -great convulsions, except quite locally, as we have them -now. He showed that modern volcanoes had poured -out vast masses of melted rock during a single eruption, -covering areas as extensive as those which any ancient -volcano could be proved to have ejected in an equally -short period; that strata were now in process of formation -comparable in extent and thickness with any ancient -strata; that organic remains are being preserved in -them just as in the older rocks; that the land is almost -everywhere rising or sinking as of old; that valleys are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15">15</a></span> -being excavated and plateaus or mountains upheaved; -that earthquake shocks are producing faults beneath -the surface; that vegetation is still preparing future -coal beds; that limestones, clays, sandstones, metamorphic -and igneous rocks are all still being formed; and -that, given time, and the intermittent or continuous -action of the causes we can now trace in operation, and -all the varied features of the earth’s surface, as well as -all the contortions and fractures which we discover in -its crust, and every other phenomenon supposed to necessitate -catastrophes and cataclysms will be again -produced.</p> - -<p>In the massive volumes of the later editions of the -<cite>Principles of Geology</cite> all these points are discussed and -illustrated with such a wealth of facts and such cogent -yet cautious reasoning as have carried conviction to all -modern students. It affords us perhaps the very best -proof yet given of evolution in one department of the -universe—that of the surface and the crust of the earth we -inhabit. Not only have all the chief modifications during -an almost unimaginable period of time been clearly -depicted, but they have in almost every case been shown -to be the inevitable results of real and comparatively well-known -causes, such as we now see at work around us.</p> - -<p>The grand generalizations of Lyell have been strengthened -since his death by more complete investigations of -certain phenomena and their causes than were possible -in his day; while the only objections to them seem to be -founded, to some extent, upon a misconception. He -has been termed a “Uniformitarian,” and it is alleged -that it is unphilosophical to take the limited range of -causes we now see in action, as a measure of those which -have acted during all past geological time. But neither -Lyell nor his followers make any such assumption. -They merely say, we do not find any proof of greater -or more violent causes in action in past times, and we do<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16">16</a></span> -find many indications that the great natural forces then -in action—seas and rivers, sun and cloud, rain and hail, -frost and snow, as well as the very texture and constituents -of the older rocks, and the mode in which the organisms -of each age are preserved in them, must have been -in their general nature and magnitude very much as they -are now. Other objections, such as that the internal -forces were greater when the earth was hotter, and that -tidal effects must have been more powerful when the moon -was nearer the earth, are altogether beside the question -until we can obtain more definite measures of past time -than we now possess in reference to both geological and -cosmical phenomena. It may well be that the physical -changes above referred to have been so slow that they -would have produced no perceptibly increased effect at -the epoch of the early stratified rocks. Lyell’s doctrine -is simply that of real against imaginary causes, and he -only denies catastrophes and more violent agencies in -early times, because there is no clear evidence of their -actual existence, and also because known causes are -quite competent to explain all geological phenomena. -It must be remembered, too, that uniformitarians have -never limited the natural forces of past geological periods -to the precise limits of which we have had experience -during the historical period. What they maintain is, -that forces of the same <em>nature</em> and of the same <em>order of -magnitude</em> are adequate to have brought about the evolution -of the crust of the earth as we now find it.</p> - -<h3>ORGANIC EVOLUTION, ITS LAWS AND CAUSES</h3> - -<p>We now come to that branch of the subject which is -the most important and distinctive of our age, and which, -in popular estimation, alone constitutes evolution—the -mode of origin of the innumerable species of animal and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17">17</a></span> -plant life which now exist or have ever existed upon the -earth.</p> - -<p>The origin of the different forms of life has till quite -recent times been looked upon as an almost insoluble -problem, although a few advanced thinkers, even in the -eighteenth century, perceived that it was probably the -result of some natural process of modification or evolution; -but no force or law had been set forth and established -in any way adequate to produce it until the publication -of Darwin’s <cite>Origin of Species</cite>, in 1859. In the -later editions of that work, Darwin has given a historical -sketch of the progress of opinion on the subject. I shall, -therefore, now only notice a few great writers which he -has not referred to.</p> - -<p>We have seen what an impossible and even ludicrous -explanation had to be given by Lucretius; and from his -day down to the middle of the eighteenth century no advance -had been made. Either the problem was not referred -to at all, or the theological doctrine of a special -creation was held to be the only possible one. But in the -middle of the eighteenth century the great French naturalist, -Buffon, published his very important work, <cite>Histoire -Naturelle</cite>, in fifteen volumes (1749–1767), in which, -besides describing the characters and habits of all the -animals then known, he introduced much philosophical -and speculative thought, which would probably have -been carried much further had he not felt obliged to conform -to the religious prejudices of the age. We are indebted -to Mr. Samuel Butler for having brought together -all the important passages of Buffon’s voluminous and -now little-read works bearing upon the question of -evolution, and it is from his volume that I quote.</p> - -<p>Buffon lays stress on the great resemblance of all -mammalia in internal structure, showing that the most -unlike creatures may be really alike structurally. He -says: “The horse, for example—what can at first sight<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18">18</a></span> -seem more unlike mankind? Yet when we compare -man and horse, point by point and detail by detail, our -wonder is excited rather by the resemblances than by -the differences between them.” He then shows that all -the parts of the skeleton agree, and that it is only in proportions, -the increase of some bones and the suppression -of others, that they differ, adding: “If we regard the -matter thus, not only the ass and the horse, but even -man himself, the apes, etc., might be regarded as forming -members of one and the same family.” Then, after a -few more illustrations, he remarks: “If we once admit -that there are families of plants and animals, so that the -ass may be of the family of the horse, and that the one -may only differ from the other by degeneration from a -common ancestor, we might be driven to admit that the -ape is of the family of man, that he is but a degenerate -man, and that he and man have had a common ancestor.... -If it were once shown that we had right grounds -for establishing these families, if the point were once -gained that among plants and animals there have been -even a single species which had been produced in the -course of direct descent from another species, then there -is no further limit to be set to the power of nature, and -we should not be wrong in supposing that with sufficient -time she could have evolved all other organized forms -from one primordial type.”</p> - -<p>This indicates clearly enough his own opinion, but to -save himself from the ecclesiastical authorities he at -once adds this saving clause: “But no! It is certain, -from revelation, that all animals have alike been favored -with the grace of an act of direct creation, and that the -first pair of every species issued full formed from the -hands of the Creator.”</p> - -<p>Such examples of disarming religious prejudice are -frequent, but he continually recurs to statements as to -mutability which neutralize them. Here, for example,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19">19</a></span> -is a broad claim for nature as opposed to creation. He -has been showing how variable are many animals, and -how changes of food, climate, and general surroundings -influence both their forms and their habits; and then he -exclaims:</p> - -<p>“What cannot nature effect with such means at her -disposal? She can do all except either create matter or -destroy it. These two extremes of power the Deity has -reserved for Himself only; creation and destruction are -the action of His omnipotence. To alter and undo, to -develop and renew—these are powers which He has -handed over to the charge of nature.”</p> - -<p>Here we have a claim for the power of nature in the -modification of species which fully comes up to the requirements -of the most advanced evolutionist. It is remarkable, -too, how clearly he perceived the great factors -so important for the evolution of organisms, rapid multiplication, -great variability, and the struggle for existence. -Thus he remarks: “It may be said that the -movement of nature turns upon two immovable pivots—one, -the illimitable fecundity which she has given to -all species; the other, the innumerable difficulties which -reduce the results of that fecundity and leave throughout -time nearly the same quantity of individuals in every -species.” Here the term “difficulties” corresponds to the -“positive checks” of Malthus, and to the “struggle for -existence” of Darwin; and he again and again refers to -variability—as when he says: “Hence, when by some -chance, common enough with nature, a variation or -special feature makes its appearance, man has tried to -perpetuate it by uniting together the individuals in which -it has appeared.”</p> - -<p>As Buffon thus clearly understood artificial selection, -thoroughly appreciated the rapid increase of all organisms, -and equally well saw that their inordinate increase -was wholly neutralized through such destructive agencies<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20">20</a></span> -as hunger, disease, and enemies, and as, at the same -time, he had such unbounded faith in the power of nature -to modify animal and vegetable forms, we feel assured -that this great writer and original thinker only needed -freedom to pursue this train of thought a little further and -he would certainly have anticipated Darwin’s great discovery -of natural selection by a whole century. Even -as it is we must class him as one of the great pioneers of -organic evolution.</p> - -<p>The next distinct step towards a theory of organic evolution -was made by the poet Goethe at the very end of -the eighteenth century, in his views of the metamorphosis -of plants. He pointed out the successive modifications -of the leaf which produced all the other essential parts of -the higher plants—the simple cotyledons or seed leaves -became modified into the variously formed leaves of the -fully grown plants; these again were successively modified -into the calyx, corolla, stamens, and ovary of the -flower. He supposed this to be due to the increased refinement -of the sap under the influence of light and air, -and to indicate the steps by which the various parts of -the flower had been developed. It was, therefore, a -theory of evolution; but it was very unsatisfactory, inasmuch -as it in no way accounted for the wonderful -variety of the floral organs, or indicated any purpose -served by the most prominent and conspicuous part of -the flower, the highly colored and often strangely formed -corolla. It was also erroneous in supposing that the -corolla was a modified calyx, whereas it is now known -to be a modification of the stamens.</p> - -<p>Next came the great work of Lamarck in the first decade -of the nineteenth century, in which he proposed a -general system of evolution of the whole animal world. -Hence he may be termed the first systematic evolutionist. -His system has been rather fully described by Lyell, -who, in his <cite>Principles of Geology</cite>, devotes a whole<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21">21</a></span> -chapter to a summary of his doctrines; while Mr. Butler -gives copious quotations in three chapters of his <cite>Evolution -Old and New</cite>; and any one who is not acquainted -with the original work of Lamarck should read these two -authors in order to understand how wide was his knowledge, -how ingenious his explanations, and in how many -important points he anticipated the views both of Lyell -and Darwin. But he was half a century in advance of -his age, and his only alleged causes of modification—changed -conditions, use and disuse, habit and effort—were -wholly insufficient to account for the vast range -of the phenomena presented by the innumerable minute -adaptations of living organisms to their conditions of -life. He even imputed all the modifications of domestic -animals to the changed conditions of food and habits -to which they have been subjected by man, making -no reference to the use of selection by breeders, in -this respect falling short of his great predecessor, Buffon.</p> - -<p>The general laws which Lamarck deduces from his -elaborate study of nature are these:</p> - -<p>“Firstly. That in every animal which has not passed -its limit of development, the more frequent and sustained -employment of any organ develops and aggrandizes it, -giving it a power proportionate to the duration of its employment, -while the same organ, in default of constant -use, becomes insensibly weakened and deteriorated, decreasing -imperceptibly in power until it finally disappears.</p> - -<p>“Secondly. That these gains or losses of organic development, -due to use or disuse, are transmitted to offspring, -provided they have been common to both sexes, -or to the animals from which the offspring have descended.”</p> - -<p>The whole force of this argument depends upon the -second clause—the inheritance of those individual modifications -due to use and disuse. But no direct evidence<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22">22</a></span> -of this has ever been found, while there is a good deal of -evidence showing that it does not occur. Again, there -are many structures which cannot have been produced -by use, such, for example, as the feathers of the peacock’s -train, the poison in the serpent’s fangs, the hard -shells of nuts, the prickly covering of many fruits, the -varied armor of the turtle, porcupine, crocodile, and -many others. For these reasons Lamarck’s views -gained few converts; and although some of his arguments -have been upheld in recent years, the fatal objections -to his general principle as a means of explaining -the evolution of organic forms has never been overcome.</p> - -<p>Between the periods of Lamarck and Darwin many -advances were made which clearly pointed to a general -law of evolution in nature. Such were Sir William -Grove’s lectures on the “Correlation of the Physical -Forces,” in 1842; Helmholtz on the “Conservation of -Energy,” in 1847; and Herbert Spencer’s essay on -“The Development Hypothesis,” in 1852. This latter -work was a complete and almost unanswerable argument -for a natural process of continuous evolution of -the whole visible universe, including organic nature, -man, and social phenomena. It is further extended in -the later editions of the author’s <cite>First Principles</cite>, which, -as a coherent exposition of philosophy, co-ordinating and -explaining all human knowledge of the universe into -one great system of evolution everywhere conforming to -the same general principles, must be held to be one of -the greatest intellectual achievements of the nineteenth -century. It left, however, the exact method of evolution -of organisms untouched, and thus failed to account -for those complex adaptations and appearances -of design in the various species of animals and plants -which have always been the stronghold of those who -advocated special creation. This difficulty was met by -Darwin’s theory of <cite>The Origin of Species by Means of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23">23</a></span> -Natural Selection</cite>, published in 1859, and the series of -works that succeeded it; and to a brief sketch of this -theory the remainder of our space must be devoted.</p> - -<h3>THE THEORY OF “NATURAL SELECTION”</h3> - -<p>Although, as we have seen, a succession of great -writers and thinkers had for more than half a century -shown the necessity for some process of evolution as the -only rational or intelligible mode of origin of existing -species of animals and plants, as well as of the whole -physical universe, yet these views were by no means -generally accepted by the educated classes, while few -bodies of students were less influenced by them than -zoologists and botanists, generally known as naturalists.</p> - -<p>Now, Darwin wrote especially for these classes, and -no one knew better than he did their great prejudice on -this matter. Not only had such men as Sir Charles -Lyell and Sir John Herschel expressed themselves -strongly against all theories of the transmutation of species, -but the universal contempt and indignation of naturalists -as well as theologians against <cite>The Vestiges of -Creation</cite>, published anonymously a few years earlier, -and giving a most temperate and even religious exposition -of the general arguments for the universality of -evolution, showed what any one might expect who advocated -and attempted to demonstrate a similar theory. -This accounts for Darwin writing to Sir Joseph Hooker, -in 1844, of his being “almost convinced that species are -not (it is like confessing a murder) immutable,” and -again, in 1845, to the Rev. L. Blomefield, that he now -saw the way in which new varieties become exquisitely -adapted to the external conditions of life and to other -surrounding beings, and he adds: “I am a bold man to -lay myself open to being thought a complete fool, and a -most deliberate one.” It is only by a consideration of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24">24</a></span> -the frame of mind of even advanced thinkers at the time -Darwin was preparing his work, and remembering how -small was the effect which had been produced by Buffon, -Goethe, Lamarck, the author of <cite>Vestiges of Creation</cite>, and -the earlier writings of Herbert Spencer, that we can adequately -realize the marvellous work that he accomplished. -Let us now briefly consider the essential nature of this -new theory, which in a few brief years became the established -belief of the great majority of the students of -nature, and which also gave a new interest in nature to -the whole thinking world.</p> - -<p>The theory of natural selection is founded upon a few -groups of thoroughly ascertained and universally admitted -facts, with the direct and necessary results of -those facts.</p> - -<p>The first group of facts consists of the great powers -of increase of all organisms and the circumstance that, -notwithstanding this great yearly increase, the actual -population of each species remains stationary, there being -no permanent increase. Now, these two facts were recognized -by Buffon, but though, of course, known to all -subsequent writers, were fully appreciated or thought -out to their logical results by none of them. Lamarck, -so far as I can ascertain, took no notice of them whatever. -Darwin has given illustrations of these facts in -Chapter IV. of the <cite>Origin of Species</cite>, and I have added -others in the second chapter of my <cite>Darwinism</cite>. That -the population of each species remains stationary, with, -of course, considerable fluctuations, is both a matter of -observation and of reasoning. The powers of increase -of all creatures are so great that if there is in any country -room and food for a larger number of any species they -will be produced in a year or two. It is impossible, therefore, -to believe that, in a state of nature, where all kinds -of animals and plants have lived together as they best -could for thousands of years, there can be any important<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25">25</a></span> -difference in their numbers from year to year or from -century to century.</p> - -<p>Now, it is as a consequence of these two indisputable -facts that the struggle for existence necessarily results. -For if every year each pair of animals or each plant produces -only ten young animals or plants, and this is very -far below the average, and if the adult life of these is -taken at ten years, again below the average of the higher -plants and animals, then, unless some of the parents die, -the whole of the offspring must die off every year; or, in -other words, only as many young can survive as are -necessary to replace the old ones that die. Hence the -deaths must always (on the average and in the long run) -equal the births. This terrible yearly destruction is an -absolutely certain fact, as well as an inevitable result of -the two preceding facts, and it is said to be due to the -struggle for existence. This struggle is manifold in its -nature. Individuals of the same species struggle together -for food, for light, for moisture; they struggle -also against other species having the same wants; they -struggle against every kind of enemy, from parasitic -worms and insects up to carnivorous animals; and there -is a continual struggle with the forces of nature—frosts, -rains, droughts, floods, and tempests.</p> - -<p>These varied causes of destruction may be seen constantly -at work by any one who looks for them. They -act from the moment of birth, being more especially destructive -to the young; and, as only one in ten or fifty -or a thousand (according to the rate of increase of the -particular species) can possibly come to the full breeding -age, we feel compelled to ask ourselves: What determines -the nine or the forty-nine or the nine hundred and ninety-nine, -as the case may be, which die, and the one which -survives? Darwin calls this process of extermination -one of “natural selection”—that is, by this process nature -weeds out the weak, the unhealthy, the unadapted,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26">26</a></span> -the imperfect in any way. Of course, what may be called -chance or accident produces many deaths of individuals -otherwise well fitted to live, but if we think of the process -going on day by day and year by year till only one in a -hundred of those born in a given area are left alive, it is -impossible to suppose that the <em>one</em> which has passed -through all the dangers and risks which have been fatal -to, say, his ninety-nine relations was not, in all the -faculties and qualities essential to the continuance of -the race, decidedly better organized than the bulk of -those which succumbed. Herbert Spencer calls the -process the “survival of the fittest,” and though the -term may not be strictly accurate in the case of any -one species in any one year, yet when we consider that -the struggle is going on <em>every</em> year, during the whole -duration of each species, we cannot doubt that, on the -whole, and in the long run, those which survive are -among the fittest. The struggle is so severe, so incessant, -that the smallest defect in any sense organ, any -physical weakness, any imperfection in constitution, will -almost certainly, at one time or another, be fatal.</p> - -<p>This continual weeding out of the less fit, in every -generation, and with exceptional severity in recurring -adverse seasons, will produce two distinct effects, which -require to be clearly distinguished. The first is the preservation -of each species in the highest state of adaptation -to the conditions of its existence; and, therefore, so long -as these conditions remained unchanged, the effect of natural -selection is to keep each well-adapted species also -unchanged. The second effect is produced whenever -the conditions vary, when, taking advantage of the variations -continually occurring in all well-adapted and -therefore populous species, the same process will slowly -but surely bring about complete adaptation to the new -conditions. And here another fact—the normal variability -of all populous or dominant species, which is seldom<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27">27</a></span> -realized except by those who have largely and minutely -compared the individuals of many species in a state of -nature—comes into play. There are some writers who -admit all the preceding facts and reasoning, so far as -the action of natural selection in weeding out the unfit -and thus keeping every species in the highest state of -efficiency is concerned, but who deny that it can modify -them in such a way as to adapt them to new conditions, -because they allege that “the right variations will not -always occur at the right time.” This seems a strong -and real objection to many of their readers, but to those -who have studied the variability of species in nature, it -is a mere verbal difficulty dependent on ignorance of the -actual facts. A brief statement of the facts must therefore -be given.</p> - -<p>Of late years, and chiefly since Darwin’s works were -written, the variability of animals and plants in a state of -nature has been carefully studied, by actual comparison -and measurement of scores, hundreds, and even thousands -of individuals of many common, that is, abundant -and widely distributed species; and it is found that in -almost every case they vary greatly, and, what is still -more important, that every organ and every appendage -varies independently and to a large amount. Some of -the best known of these facts of variation are adduced -in my <cite>Darwinism</cite>, and are illustrated by numerous -diagrams, and much more extensive series have since -been examined, always with the same general result. -By large variability is meant a variation of from ten to -twenty-five per cent. on each side of the mean size, this -amount of variation occurring in at least five or ten per -cent. of the whole number of individuals, and in every -organ or part as yet examined, external or internal.</p> - -<p>Now, as the weeding-out process is so severe, only -from one in ten to one in a hundred of those born surviving -to produce young, the above proportion of variations<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28">28</a></span> -affords ample scope for the selection of any variation -needed in order to modify the species so as to bring it into -harmony with new or changing conditions. And this will -be the more easy and certain if we consider how slowly -land-surfaces and climates undergo permanent changes; -and these are certainly the kind of changes that initiate -and compel alterations, first, perhaps, in the distribution, -and afterwards in the structure and habits of species. -It follows, therefore, as an absolutely necessary conclusion -from the facts, if natural selection can and does -keep each continually varying species in close adaptation -to an unchanging environment, that it preserves the fixity -of its mean or average condition, and almost every objector -admits this. Then, given a slowly changing environment, -the same power must inevitably bring about -whatever corresponding change is needed for the well-being -and permanent survival of the various species -which are subjected to those changed conditions.</p> - -<p>I shall not add here a further consideration of the objections -and difficulties alleged by critics of the theory. -All of these have, I believe, been fully answered either by -Darwin or myself, many of the most recent having been -discussed in review articles. Suffice it to say here that -this theory of natural selection—meaning the elimination -of the least fit, and therefore the ultimate “survival of the -fittest”—has furnished a rational and precise explanation -of the means of adaptation of all existing organisms -to their conditions, and therefore of their transformation -from the series of distinct but allied species which occupied -the earth at some preceding epoch. In this sense it has -actually demonstrated the “origin of species,” and, by -carrying back this process step by step into earlier and -earlier geological times, we are able mentally to follow -out the evolution of all forms of life from one or a few -primordial forms. Natural selection has thus supplied -that motive power of change and adaptation that was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29">29</a></span> -wanting in all earlier attempts at explanation, and this -has led to its very general acceptance both by naturalists -and by the great majority of thinkers and men of science.</p> - -<p>The brief sketch now given of the progress of human -thought on the questions of the fact and the mode of the -evolution of the material universe indicates how great has -been the progress during the nineteenth as compared -with all preceding centuries.</p> - -<p>Although the philosophical writers of classical times -obtained a few glimpses of the action of law in nature -regulating its successive changes, nothing satisfactory -could be effected till the actual facts had been better ascertained -by the whole body of workers who, during the last -five centuries, have penetrated ever more and more deeply -into nature’s mysteries and laws. By their labors we -became possessed of such a body of carefully observed -facts that, towards the end of the eighteenth century, -such thinkers as Laplace and Hutton were enabled to -give us the first rudiments of theories of evolution as -applied to the solar system and the earth’s crust, both -of which have been greatly developed and rendered more -secure during the century just passed away.</p> - -<p>In like manner Buffon and Goethe may be said to have -started the idea of organic evolution, more systematically -treated a little later by Lamarck, but still without any -discovery of laws adequate to produce the results we see -everywhere in nature. The subject then languished, -till, after twenty years of observation and research, -Charles Darwin produced a work which at once satisfied -many thinkers that the long-desired clew had been discovered. -Its acceptance by almost the whole scientific -world soon followed: it threw new light on almost every -branch of research, and it will probably take its place, -in the opinion of future generations, as the crowning -achievement of the nineteenth century.</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">Alfred Russel Wallace.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33">33</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="CHEMISTRY"></a>CHEMISTRY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> progress of the science of chemistry forms one -phase of the progress of human thought. While at -first mankind was contented to observe certain phenomena, -and to utilize them for industrial purposes, if they -were found suitable, “philosophers,” as the thinking portion -of our race loved to call themselves, have always attempted -to assign some explanation for observed facts, -and to group them into similars and dissimilars. It was -for long imagined, following the doctrines of the Greeks -and of their predecessors, that all matter consisted of four -elements or principles, names which survive to this day -in popular language. These were “fire,” “air,” “water,” -and “earth.” It was not until the seventeenth century -that Boyle in his <cite>Sceptical Chymist</cite> (1661) laid the foundations -of the modern science, by pointing out that it was -impossible to explain the existence of the fairly numerous -chemical substances known in his day, or the changes -which they can be made to undergo, by means of the -ancient Greek hypotheses regarding the constitution of -matter. He laid down the definition of the modern meaning -of the word “element”; he declined to accept the -current view that the properties of matter could be modified -by its assimilating the qualities of fire, air, earth, -or water, and he defined an element as the <em>constituent</em> of -a compound body. The first problem, then, to be solved, -was to determine which of the numerous forms of matter -were to be regarded as elementary, and which are compound, -or composed of two or more elements in a state of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34">34</a></span> -combination; and to produce such compounds by causing -the appropriate elements to unite with each other.</p> - -<p>One of the first objects to excite curiosity and interest -was the air which surrounds us, and in which we live and -move and have our being. It was, however, endowed -with a semi-spiritual and scarcely corporeal nature -in the ideas of our ancestors, for it does not affect the -senses of sight, smell, or taste, and though it can be felt, -yet it eludes our grasp. The word “gas,” moreover, was -not invented until Van Helmont devised it to designate -various kinds of “airs” which he had observed. The -important part which gases play in the constitution of -many chemical compounds was accordingly overlooked; -and, indeed, it appeared to be almost as striking a feat -of necromancy to produce a quantity of a gas of great -volume from a small pinch of solid powder as for a “Jinn” -of enormous stature but of delicate texture to issue from -a brass pot, as related in the <cite>Arabian Nights Entertainments</cite>. -Gradually, however, it came to be recognized, -not merely that gases have corporeal existence, -but that they even possess weight. This, though foreshadowed -by Torricelli, Jean Rey, and others, was first -clearly proved by Black, professor of chemistry in Edinburgh, -in 1752, through his masterly researches, as carbonic -acid.</p> - -<p>The ignorance of the material nature of gases and of -their weight lies at the bottom of the “Phlogistic Theory,” -a theory devised by Stahl about the year 1690, to account -for the phenomena of combustion and respiration and -the recovery or “reduction” of metals from their “earths” -by heating with charcoal or allied bodies. According -to this inverted theory, a substance capable of burning -was imagined to contain more or less phlogiston, a principle -which it parted with on burning, leaving an earth -deprived of phlogiston, or “dephlogisticated,” behind if -a metal. This earth, when heated with substances rich<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35">35</a></span> -in phlogiston, such as coal, wood, flour, and similar bodies, -recovered the phlogiston, which it had lost on burning, -and, with the added phlogiston, its metallic character. -Other substances, such as phosphorus and sulphur, -gave solids or acid liquids, to which phlogiston was -not so easy to add; but even they could be rephlogisticated. -On this hypothesis, it was the earths, and such -acid liquids as sulphuric or phosphoric acids, which were -the elements; the metals and sulphur and phosphorus -were their compounds with phlogiston.</p> - -<p>The discovery of oxygen by Priestley and by Scheele -in 1774, and the explanation of its functions by Lavoisier -during the following ten years, gave their true meaning -to these phenomena. It was then recognized that combustion -was union with oxygen; that an “earth” or -“calx” was to be regarded as the compound of a metal -with oxygen; that when a metal becomes tarnished, -and converted into such an earthy powder, it is being oxidized; -that this oxide, on ignition with charcoal or carbon, -or with compounds such as coal, flour, or wood, of -which carbon is a constituent, gives up its oxygen to the -carbon, forming an oxide of carbon, carbonic oxide on -the one hand, or carbonic “acid” on the other, while the -metal is reproduced in its “reguline” or metallic condition, -and that the true elements are metals, carbon, -sulphur, phosphorus, and similar bodies, and not the -products of their oxidation.</p> - -<p>The discovery that air is in the main a mixture of nitrogen, -an inert gas, and oxygen, an active one, together -with a small proportion of carbonic “acid” (or, as it is -now termed, anhydride)—a discovery perfected by Rutherford, -Black, and Cavendish—and that water is a compound -with oxygen of hydrogen, previously known as -inflammable air, by Cavendish and by Watt, finally -overthrew the theory of phlogiston; but at the beginning -of this century it still lingered on, and was defended by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36">36</a></span> -Priestley until his death in 1804. Such, in brief, was the -condition of chemical thought in the year 1800. Scheele -had died in 1786, at the early age of forty-four; Lavoisier -was one of the victims of the French Revolution, -having been guillotined in 1794; Cavendish had ceased -to work at chemical problems, and was devoting his extraordinary -abilities to physical problems of the highest -importance, while living the life of an eccentric recluse, -and Priestley, driven by religious persecution from England -to the more tolerant shores of America, was enjoying -a peaceful old age, enlivened by occasional incursions -into the region of sectarian controversy.</p> - -<p>The first striking discovery of our century was that of -the compound nature of the alkalies and of the alkaline -earths. This discovery was made by Humphry Davy. -Born in Cornwall in 1778, he began the study of chemistry, -self-taught, in 1796; and in 1799 he became director -of the “Pneumatic Institution,” an undertaking -founded by Dr. Beddoes, at Bristol, for the purpose of experiments -on the curative effects of gases in general. -Here he at once made his mark by the discovery of the -remarkable properties of “laughing gas,” or nitrous -oxide. At the same time he constructed a galvanic -battery, and began to perform experiments with it in -attempting to decompose chemical compounds by its -means. In 1801 Davy was appointed professor of chemistry -at the Royal Institution, a society or club which -had been founded a few years previously by Benjamin -Thompson, Count Rumford, for the purpose of instructing -and amusing its members with recent discoveries -in chemistry and natural philosophy. In 1807 Davy -applied his galvanic battery to the decomposition of -damp caustic potash and soda, using platinum poles. -He was rewarded by seeing globules of metal, resembling -mercury in appearance, at the negative pole; and he -subsequently proved that these globules, when burned,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37">37</a></span> -reproduced the alkali from which they had been derived. -They also combined with “oxymuriatic acid,” as chlorine -(discovered by Scheele) was then termed, forming -ordinary salt, if sodium be employed, and the analogous -salt, “muriate of potash,” if the allied metal, potassium, -were subjected to combustion. By using mercury as -the negative pole, and passing a current through a -strong solution of the chloride of calcium, strontium, or -barium, Davy succeeded in procuring mixtures with -mercury or “amalgams” of their metals, to which he -gave the names calcium, strontium, and barium. Distillation -removed most of the mercury, and the metal -was left behind in a state of comparative purity. The -alkali metals, potassium and sodium, were found to attack -glass, liberating “the basis of the silex,” to which -the name silicon has since been given.</p> - -<p>Thus nearly the last of the “earths” had been decomposed. -It was proved that not merely were the “calces” -of iron, copper, lead, and other well-known metals compounds -of the respective metals with oxygen, but Davy -showed that lime, and its allies, strontia and baryta, -and even silica or flint, were to be regarded as oxides of -elements of metallic appearance. To complete our review -of this part of the subject, suffice it to say that -aluminum, a metal now produced on an industrial scale, -was prepared for the first time in 1827 by Wöhler, professor -of chemistry at Göttingen, by the action of potassium -on its chloride, and alumina, the earthy basis of -clay, was shown to be the oxide of the metal aluminum. -Indeed, the preparation of this metal in quantity is now -carried out at Schoffhausen-on-the-Rhine and at the Falls -of Foyers, in Scotland, by electrolysis of the oxide dissolved -in melted cryolite, a mineral consisting of the -fluorides of sodium and aluminum, by a method differing -only in scale from that by means of which Davy isolated -sodium and potassium in 1806.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38">38</a></span> -To Davy, too, belongs the merit of having dethroned -oxygen from its central position among the elements. -Lavoisier gave to this important gas the name “oxygen,” -because he imagined it to be the constituent of all acids. -He renamed the common compounds of oxygen in such -a manner that the term oxygen was not even represented -in the name—only inferred. Thus a “nitrate” is a compound -of an oxide of nitrogen and an oxide of a metal; -a “sulphate,” of the oxide of a metal with one of the oxides -of sulphur, and so on. Davy, by discovering the -elementary nature of chlorine, showed, first, that it is not -an oxide of hydrochloric acid (or muriatic acid as it was -then called); and, second, that the latter acid is the compound -of the element chlorine with hydrogen. This he -did by passing chlorine over white-hot carbon—a substance -eminently suited to deprive oxy-compounds -of their oxygen—and proving that no oxide of carbon -is thereby produced; by acting on certain chlorides, -such as those of tin or phosphorus with ammonia, -and showing that no oxide of tin or phosphorus is -formed; and, lastly, by decomposing “muriatic acid -gas” (gaseous hydrogen chloride) with sodium, and -showing that the only product besides common salt is -hydrogen. Instead, therefore, of the former theory that -a chloride was a compound of the unknown basis of oxymuriatic -acid with oxygen and the oxide of a metal, he -introduced the simpler and correct view that a chloride -is merely a compound of the element chlorine with a -metal. In 1813 he established the similar nature of -fluorine, pointing out that on the analogy of the chlorides -it was a fair deduction that the fluorides are compounds -of an undiscovered element, fluorine, with metals; -and that hydrofluoric acid is the true analogue of hydrochloric -acid. The truth of this forecast has been established -of recent years by Henri Moissan, who isolated -gaseous fluorine by subjecting a mixture of hydrofluoric<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39">39</a></span> -acid and hydrogen potassium fluoride contained in a -platinum U tube to the action of a powerful electric current. -He has recently found that the tube may be equally -well constructed of copper; and this may soon lead -to the industrial application of the process. The difficulty -of isolating fluorine is due to its extraordinary -chemical energy; for there are few substances, elementary -or compound, which resist the action of this pale yellow, -suffocating gas. In 1811 iodine, separated by -Courtois from the ashes of sea-plants, was shown by -Davy to be an element analogous to chlorine. Gay-Lussac -subsequently investigated it and prepared many of -its compounds; and in 1826 the last of these elements, -bromine, was discovered in the mother-liquor of sea-salt by -Balard. The elements of this group have been termed -“halogens,” or “salt producers.”</p> - -<p>While Davy was pouring his researches into the astonished -ears of the scientific and dilettante world, John -Dalton, a Manchester school-master, conceived a theory -that has proved of the utmost service to the science of -chemistry, and which bids fair to outlast our day. It had -been noticed by Wenzel, by Richter, by Wollaston, and -by Cavendish, towards the end of the last century, that -the same compounds contain the same constituents in -the same proportions, or, as the phrase runs, “possess -constant composition.” Wollaston, indeed, had gone -one step farther, and had shown that when the vegetable -acid, oxalic acid, is combined with potash, it forms two -compounds, in one of which the acid is contained in twice -as great an amount relatively to the potash as in the -other. The names <em>monoxalate</em> and <em>binoxalate</em> of potash -were applied to these compounds, to indicate the respective -proportions of the ingredients. Dalton conceived the -happy idea that by applying the ancient Greek conception -of atoms to such facts the relative weights of the -atoms could be determined. Illustrating his views with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40">40</a></span> -the two compounds of carbon with hydrogen, marsh gas -and olefiant gas, and with the two acids of carbon, carbonic -oxide, carbonic “acid,” he regarded the former as a -compound of one atom of carbon and one of hydrogen, and -the second as a compound of one atom of carbon and -two of hydrogen, and similarly for the two oxides of -carbon. Knowing the relative weights in which these -elements enter into combination, we can deduce the relative -weights of the atoms. Placing the relative weight -of an atom of hydrogen equal to unity, we have:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="centerblock"> -<table id="table40" summary="relative weights of atoms"> - <tr><th> </th><th class="tdc">Marsh<br />Gas</th><th class="tdc">Olefiant<br />Gas</th><th class="tdl bl"> </th><th class="tdc">Carbonic<br />Oxide</th><th class="tdc">Carbonic<br />Acid</th></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">Carbon</td> - <td class="tdc">6</td> - <td class="tdc">6</td> - <td class="tdl bl">Carbon</td> - <td class="tdc">5</td> - <td class="tdc">6</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">Hydrogen</td> - <td class="tdc">1</td> - <td class="tdc">2</td> - <td class="tdl bl">Oxygen</td> - <td class="tdc">8</td> - <td class="tdc">16 </td></tr> -</table> -</div></div> - -<p>Thus the first compound, marsh gas, was regarded by -Dalton as composed of an atom of carbon in union with -an atom of hydrogen; or, to reproduce his symbols, as -<img src="images/i_040a.jpg" width="42" height="17" alt="⊜◉" />; -while the second, olefiant gas, on this hypothesis, -was a compound of two atoms of hydrogen with one of -carbon, or <img src="images/i_040b.jpg" width="67" height="19" alt="◉◍◉" />. -Similarly the symbols <img src="images/i_040c.jpg" width="44" height="19" alt="◍○" />, and -<img src="images/i_040d.jpg" width="65" height="19" alt="○◍○" /> -were given to the two compounds of carbon with -oxygen. So water was assigned the symbol <img src="images/i_040e.jpg" width="43" height="19" alt="◉○" />, for -Dalton imagined it to be a compound of one atom of -hydrogen with one of oxygen. Compounds containing -only two atoms were termed by him “binary”; those -containing three, “ternary”; four, “quaternary,” and -so on. The weight of an atom of oxygen was eight -times that of an atom of hydrogen; while that of an -atom of carbon was six times as great as the unit. By -assigning symbols to the elements, consisting of the -initial letters of their names, or of the first two letters, -formulas were developed, indicating the composition of -the compound, the atomic weights of the elements being -assured. Thus, NaO signified a compound of an atom -of sodium (natrium), weighing twenty-three times as<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41">41</a></span> -much as a similar atom of hydrogen, with an atom of -oxygen, possessing eight times the weight of an atom -of hydrogen. Therefore, thirty-one pounds of soda -should consist of twenty-three pounds of sodium in combination -with eight pounds of oxygen, for, according to -Dalton, each smallest particle of soda contains an atom -of each element, and the proportion is not changed, however -many particles be considered.</p> - -<p>It has been pointed out by Judge Stallo, of Philadelphia, -in his <cite>Concepts of Physics</cite>, that such a hypothesis -as that of Dalton is no explanation; that a fact of nature, -as, for example, the fact of simple and multiple proportions, -is not <em>explained</em> by being minified. Allowing -the general truth of this statement, it is, nevertheless, -undoubted that chemistry owes much to Dalton’s hypothesis—a -lucky guess at first, it represents one of the -fundamental truths of nature, although its form must -be somewhat modified from that in which Dalton conceived -it. Dalton’s work was first expounded by Thomas -Thomson, professor at Glasgow, in his <cite>System of Chemistry</cite>, -published in 1805; and subsequently in Dalton’s -own <cite>New System of Chemical Philosophy</cite>, the three volumes -of which were published in 1808, in 1810, and in -1827.</p> - -<p>The determination of these “Constants of Nature” -was at once followed out by many chemists, Thomson -among the first. But chief among the chemists who -have pursued this branch of work was Jacob Berzelius, -a Swede, who devoted his long life (1779–1848) to the -manufacture of compounds, and to the determination of -their composition, or, as it is still termed, the determination -of the “atomic weights”—more correctly, “equivalents”—of -the elements of which they are composed. -It is to him that we owe most of our analytical methods, -for, prior to his time, there were few, if any, accurate -analyses. Although Lavoisier had devised a method<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42">42</a></span> -for the analysis of compounds of carbon, viz., by burning -the organic compounds in an atmosphere of oxygen -contained in a bell-jar over mercury, and measuring -the volume of carbon dioxide produced, as well as that -of the residual oxygen, Berzelius achieved the same -results more accurately and more expeditiously by heating -the substance, mixed with chlorate of potassium and -sodium chloride, and then estimating the hydrogen as -well as the carbon; this process was afterwards perfected -by Liebig. Berzelius, however, was able to show that -compounds of carbon, like those of other elements, were -instances of combination in constant and in multiple -proportions.</p> - -<p>In 1815 two papers were published in the <cite>Annals of -Philosophy</cite> by Dr. Prout, which have had much influence -on the progress of chemistry. They dealt with the -figures which were being obtained by Thomson, Berzelius, -and others, at that time supposed to represent the -“atomic weights” of the elements. Prout’s hypothesis, -based on only a few numbers, was that the atomic weights -of all elements were multiples of that of hydrogen, taken -as unity. There was much dispute regarding this assertion -at the time, but as it was contradicted by Berzelius’s -numbers, the balance of opinion was against it. -But about the year 1840 Dumas discovered an error in -the number (12.12) given by Berzelius as the atomic -weight of carbon; and with his collaborator, Stas, undertook -the redetermination of the atomic weights of the -commoner elements—for example, carbon, oxygen, chlorine, -and calcium. This line of research was subsequently -pursued alone by Stas, whose name will always be -remembered for the precision and accuracy of his experiments. -At first Dumas and Stas inclined to the view -that Prout’s hypothesis was a just one, but it was completely -disproved by Stas’s subsequent work, as well as -by that of numerous other observers. It is, nevertheless,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43">43</a></span> -curious that a much larger proportion of the atomic -weights approximate to whole numbers than would be -foretold by the doctrine of chances, and perhaps the last -has not been heard of Prout’s hypothesis, although in -its original crude form it is no longer worthy of credence.</p> - -<p>One of the most noteworthy of the discoveries of the -century was made by Gay-Lussac (1778–1850) in the year -1808. In conjunction with Alexander von Humboldt, -Gay-Lussac had rediscovered about three years before -what had previously been established by Cavendish—namely, -that, as nearly as possible, two volumes of hydrogen -combine with one volume of oxygen to form water, -the gases having been measured at the same temperature -and pressure. Humboldt suggested to Gay-Lussac that -it would be well to investigate whether similar simple -relations exist between the volumes of other gaseous -substances when they combine with each other. This -turned out to be the case; it appeared that almost exactly -two volumes of carbonic oxide unite with one volume of -oxygen to form carbon dioxide; that equal volumes of -chlorine and hydrogen unite to form hydrochloric acid -gas; that two volumes of ammonia gas consist of three -volumes of hydrogen in union with one volume of nitrogen, -and so on. From such facts, Gay-Lussac was led -to make the statement that: The weights of equal volumes -of both simple and compound gases, and therefore -their densities, are proportional to their empirically -found combining weights, or to rational multiples of the -latter. Gay-Lussac recognized this discovery of his to be -a support for the atomic theory; but it did not accord -with many of the then received atomic weights. The -assumption that equal volumes of gases contain equal -numbers of particles, or, as they were termed by him, -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">molécules intégrantes</i>, was made in 1811 by Avogadro, -professor of physics at Turin (1776–1856). This theory, -which has proved of the utmost importance to the sciences<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44">44</a></span> -both of physics and of chemistry, had no doubt occurred -to Gay-Lussac, and had been rejected by him for -the following reasons: A certain volume of hydrogen, -say one cubic inch, may be supposed to contain an equal -number of particles (atoms) as an equal volume of chlorine. -Now these two gases unite in equal volumes. The -deduction appears so far quite legitimate that one atom -of hydrogen has combined with one atom of chlorine. -But the resulting gas occupies two cubic inches, and -must therefore contain the same number of particles of -hydrogen chloride, the compound of the two elements, -as one cubic inch originally contained of hydrogen, or of -chlorine. Thus we have two cubic inches containing, -of uncombined gases, twice as many particles as is contained -in that volume, after combination. Avogadro’s -hypothesis solved the difficulty. By premising two different -orders of particles, now termed <em>atoms</em> and <em>molecules</em>, -the solution was plain. According to him, each -particle, or molecule, of hydrogen is a complex, and contains -two atoms; the same is the case with chlorine. -When these gases combine, or rather <em>react</em>, to form hydrogen -chloride, the phenomenon is one of a change of -partners; the molecule, the double atom, of hydrogen -splits; the same is the case with the molecule of chlorine; -and each liberated atom of hydrogen unites with a liberated -atom of chlorine, forming a compound, hydrogen -chloride, which equally consists of a molecule, or double -atom. Thus two cubic inches of hydrogen chloride consist -of a definite number of molecules, equal in number -to those contained in a cubic inch of hydrogen, plus those -contained in a cubic inch of chlorine. The case is precisely -similar, if other compounds of gases be considered.</p> - -<p>Berzelius was at first inclined to adopt this theory, -and indeed went so far as to change many of his atomic -weights to make them fit it. But later he somewhat -withdrew from his position, for it appeared to him that it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45">45</a></span> -was hazardous to extend to liquids and solids a theory -which could be held only of gases. Avogadro’s suggestion, -therefore, rested in abeyance until the publication, -in 1858, by Cannizzaro, now professor of chemistry in -Rome, of an essay in which all the arguments in favor -of the hypothesis were collected and stated in a masterly -manner. It will be advisable to revert to this -hypothesis at a later point, and to consider other guides -for the determination of atomic weights.</p> - -<p>In 1819, Dulong (1785–1838), director of the Ecole Polytechnique -at Paris, and Petit (1791–1820), professor of -physics there, made the discovery that equal amounts of -heat are required to raise equally the temperature of solid -and liquid elements, provided quantities are taken proportional -to their atomic weights. Thus, to raise the -temperature of 56 grammes of iron through one degree -requires approximately the same amount of heat as is required -to raise through one degree 32 grammes of sulphur, -63.5 grammes of copper, and so on; these numbers -representing the atomic weights of the elements named. -In other words, <em>equal numbers of atoms have equal capacity -for heat</em>. The number of heat units, or calories -(one calory is the amount of heat required to raise the -temperature of 1 gramme of water through 1° C.), which is -necessary to raise the atomic weight expressed in grammes -of any solid or liquid element through 1° C. is approximately -6.2; it varies between 5.7 and 6.6 in actual part. -This affords a means of determining the true value of the -atomic weight of an element, as the following example -will show: The analysis of the only compound of zinc -and chlorine shows that it contains 47.49 per cent. of -zinc and 52.16 per cent. of chlorine. Now one grain of -hydrogen combines with 35.5 grains of chlorine to form -36.5 grains of hydrogen chloride; and, as already remarked, -one volume of hydrogen and one volume of -chlorine combine, forming two volumes of hydrogen chloride.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46">46</a></span> -Applying Avogadro’s hypothesis, one molecule of -hydrogen and one molecule of chlorine react to yield two -molecules of hydrogen chloride; and as each molecule -is supposed to consist in this case of two atoms, hydrogen -chloride consists of one atom of each of its constituent -elements. The amount of that element, therefore, -which combines with 35.5 grains of chlorine may give -the numerical value of the atomic weight of the element, if -the compound contains one atom of each element; in that -case the formula of the above compound would be zinc, -and the atomic weight of zinc, 32.7; but if the formula -is ZuCl<sub>3</sub>, the atomic weight of zinc would be 32.7 × 2; if -ZuCl<sub>3</sub>, 32.7 × 3, and so on. The specific heat of metallic -zinc enables this question to be solved. For it has been -found, experimentally, to be about 0.095; and 6.2 ÷ 0.095 -= 65.2, a close approximation to 32.7 × 2 = 65.4. The -conclusion is therefore drawn that zinc chloride is composed -of one atom of zinc in combination with two atoms of -chlorine, that the atomic weight of zinc is 65.4, and that -the molecular weight of zinc chloride is 65.4 + (35.5 × 2) = -136.4. Inasmuch as the relative weight of a molecule -of hydrogen is 2 (that of an atom being 1), zinc chloride -in the gaseous state should be 136.4 ÷ 2 = 68.2 times that -of hydrogen, measured at the same temperature and -pressure. This has been found, experimentally, to be -the case.</p> - -<p>The methods of determining the vapor densities, or -relative weights of vapors, are three in number; the first -method, due to Dumas (1827), consists in vaporizing the -substance in question in a bulb of glass or of porcelain, -at a known temperature, closing the bulb while still hot, -and weighing it after it is cold. Knowing the capacity -of the bulb, the weight of hydrogen necessary to fill it at -the desired temperature can be calculated, and the density -of the vapor thus arrived at. A second method was devised -by Gay-Lussac and perfected by A. W. Hofmann<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47">47</a></span> -(1868); and a third, preferable for its simplicity and ease -of execution, is due to Victor Meyer (1881).</p> - -<p>In 1858, as already remarked, Cannizzaro showed the -connection between these known facts, and for the first -time attention was called to the true atomic weights, -which were, up to that time, confused with equivalents, -or weights of elements required to replace one unit weight -of hydrogen. These were generally regarded as atomic -weights by Dalton and his contemporaries.</p> - -<p>Some exceptions had been observed to the law of -Dulong and Petit, viz., beryllium, or glucinium, an element -occurring in emeralds; boron, of which borax is a -compound; silicon, the component of quartz and flint, -and carbon. It was found by Weber that at high temperatures -the specific heats of these elements are higher, -and the atomic heats approximate to the number of 6.2; -but this behavior is not peculiar to these elements, for it -appears that the specific heat of all elements increases -with rise of temperature.</p> - -<p>A certain number of exceptions have also been noticed -to the law of Gay-Lussac, which may be formulated: -the molecular weight of a compound in a gaseous state is -twice its density referred to hydrogen. Thus equal volumes -of ammonia and hydrogen chloride unite to form -ammonium chloride. It was to be expected that the -density should be half the molecular weight, thus:</p> - -<div class="center smaller"><div class="ilb"> -<p class="in0 b1 pre"> - NH<sub>3</sub> + HCl = NH<sub>4</sub>Cl; and 53.5 ÷ 2 = 26.75 = density.<br /> -(14+3) (1+35.5) 53.5 -</p> -</div></div> - -<p>But the density actually found is only half that number, -viz., 13.37; and for long this and similar cases were -supposed to be exceptions to the law of Gay-Lussac, viz., -that equal volumes of gases at the same pressure expand -equally for equal rise of temperature. In other instances -the gradual decrease in density with rise of temperature<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48">48</a></span> -can be followed, as with chloral hydrate, the products of -which are chloral and water.</p> - -<p>It was recognized by St. Claire Deville (1857) that the -decrease in density of such mixtures of gases was due, -not to their being exceptions to Avogadro’s law, but to -the gradual decomposition of the compound body with -rise of temperature. To this gradual decomposition -he gave the name <em>dissociation</em>. This conception has -proved of the utmost importance to the science, as will be -seen in the sequel. To take the above instance of ammonium -chloride, its abnormal density is due to its dissociation -into ammonia and hydrogen chloride; and the gas -which is obtained on raising its temperature consists, -not of gaseous ammonium chloride, but of a mixture of -ammonia and hydrogen chloride, which, as is easily -seen, occupy, when separate, twice the volume that would -be occupied by the gaseous compound. Of recent years -it has been shown by Brereton Baker that, if perfectly -free from moisture, ammonium chloride gasifies as such, -and that its density in the state of vapor is, in fact, -26.75.</p> - -<p>The molecular complexity of gases has thus gradually -become comprehended, and the truth of Avogadro’s law -has gained acceptance. And as a means of picturing the -behavior of gaseous molecules, the “Kinetic Theory of -Gases” has been devised by Joule, Clausius, Maxwell, -Thomson (Lord Kelvin), and others. On the assumption -that the pressure of a gas on the walls of the vessel which -contains it is due to the continued impacts of its molecules, -and that the temperature of a gas is represented by the -product of the mass of the molecules, or the square of their -velocity, it has been possible to offer a mechanical explanation -of Boyle’s law, that at constant temperature the -volume of a gas diminishes in proportion as the pressure -increases; of Gay-Lussac’s law, that all gases expand -equally for equal rise of temperature, provided pressure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49">49</a></span> -is kept constant; the condition being that equal volumes -of gases contain equal numbers of molecules. A striking -support is lent to this chain of reasoning by the facts discovered -by Thomas Graham (1805–1869), professor at -University College, London, and subsequently master -of the Royal Mint. Graham discovered that the rate of -diffusion of gases into each other is inversely as the -square roots of their densities. For instance, the density -of hydrogen being taken as unity, that of oxygen is sixteen -times as great; if a vessel containing hydrogen be -made to communicate with one containing oxygen, the -hydrogen will pass into the oxygen and mix with it; and, -conversely, the oxygen will pass into the hydrogen vessel. -This is due to the intrinsic motion of the molecule of -each gas. And Graham found, experimentally, that -for each volume of oxygen which enters the hydrogen -vessel four volumes of hydrogen will enter the oxygen -vessel. Now, 4 = √16; and as these masses are relatively -1 and 16, and their temperatures are equal, the square of -their velocities are respectively 1 and 16.</p> - -<p>The question of the molecular complexity of gases -being thus disposed of, it remains to be considered what -are the relative complexity of liquid molecules. The -answer is indicated by a study of the capillary phenomena -of liquids, one method of measuring which is the -height of their ascent in narrow or capillary tubes. -We shall not enter here into detail as to the method -and arguments necessary; suffice it to say that the -Hungarian physicist Eötvös was the first to indicate -the direction of research, and that Ramsay and Shields -succeeded in proving that the complexity of the molecules -of most liquids is not greater than that of the -gases which they form on being vaporized; and also -that certain liquids, <i>e.g.</i>, water, the alcohols, and other -liquids, are more or less “associated,” <i>i.e.</i>, their molecules -occur in couplices of two, three, four, or more, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50">50</a></span> -as the temperature is raised the complexity of molecular -structure diminishes.</p> - -<p>As regards the molecular complexity of solids, nothing -definite is known, and, moreover, there appears to be -no method capable of revealing it.</p> - -<p>While the researches of which a short account has -now been given have led to knowledge regarding the -nature of molecules, the structure of the molecule has -excited interest since the early years of the century, -and its investigation has led to important results. The -fact of the decomposition of acidified water by an electric -current, discovered by Nicholson and Carlisle, and -of salts into “bases” and “acids” by Berzelius and -Hisinger in 1803, led to the belief that a close connection -exists between electric energy, or, as it was then -termed, “electric force,” and the affinity which holds -the constituents of chemical compounds in combination. -In 1807 Davy propounded the theory that all compounds -consist of two portions, one electro-positive and the other -electro-negative. This idea was the result of experiments -on the behavior of substances, such, for example, -as copper and sulphur—if portions of these elements be -insulated and then brought into contact they become oppositely -electrified. The degree of electrification is intensified -by rise of temperature until, when combination -ensues, the electrification vanishes. Combination, therefore, -according to Davy, is concurrent with the equalization -of potentials. In 1812 Berzelius brought forward an -electro-chemical theory which for the following twenty -years was generally accepted. His primary assumption -was that the atoms of elements, or, in certain cases, -groups of atoms, are themselves electrified; that each -atom, or group of atoms, possesses two poles, one positive, -the other negative; that the electrification of one -of these poles predominates over that of the other, so -that the atom or group is itself, as a whole, electro-positive,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51">51</a></span> -or electro-negative; that combination ensued between -such oppositely electrified bodies by the neutralization, -partial or complete, of their electric charges; -and, lastly, that the polarity of an element or group could -be determined by noting whether the element or group -separated at the positive or at the negative pole of -the galvanic battery, or electrolysis. For Berzelius, -oxygen was the most electro-negative and potassium -the most electro-positive of the elements, the bridge between -the “non-metals” and the “metals” being hydrogen, -which, with nitrogen, forms a basic, or electro-positive, -group, while with chlorine, etc., it forms electro-negative -groups. The fact that an electric current -splits compounds in solution into two portions led Berzelius -to devise his “dualistic” system, which involved -the assumption that all compounds consist of two portions, -one electro-positive, the other electro-negative. -Thus sulphate of magnesium and potassium was to be -regarded as composed of electro-positive potassium -sulphate in combination with electro-negative magnesium -sulphate; the former in its turn consisted of -electro-negative sulphur trioxide (SO<sub>3</sub>) in combination -with electro-positive oxide of potassium (K<sub>2</sub>O); while -each of these proximate constituents of potassium sulphate -were themselves composed of the electro-negative -oxygen in combination with electro-positive sulphur, -or potassium. On contrasting sulphur with potassium, -however, the former was considered more -electro-negative than the latter; so that the group SO<sub>3</sub> -as a whole was electro-negative, while K<sub>2</sub>O was electro-positive. -The symbols given above, which are still in -universal use, were also devised by Berzelius for the purpose -of illustrating and emphasizing his views. These -views, however, met with little acceptance at the time -in England.</p> - -<p>Lavoisier’s idea, that oxygen was the necessary constituent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52">52</a></span> -of all acids, began about this time to lose ground. -For Davy had proved the elementary nature of chlorine; -and hydrochloric acid, one of the strongest, was thus -seen to contain no oxygen, and Davy expressed the -view, founded on his observation, that iodic “acid,” -I<sub>2</sub>O<sub>5</sub>, was devoid of acid properties until dissolved in -water, and that the essential constituent of all acids was -hydrogen, not oxygen. The bearing of this theory on -the dualistic theory is, that while, <i>e.g.</i>, sulphuric acid -was regarded by Berzelius as SO<sub>3</sub>, containing no hydrogen, -and was supposed to be separated as such at -the positive pole of a battery, Davy’s suggestion led -to the opposite conclusion that the formula of sulphuric -acid is H<sub>2</sub>SO<sub>4</sub>, and that by the current it is resolved into -H<sub>2</sub> and SO<sub>4</sub>. Faraday’s electrolytic law, that when -a current is passed through electrolytes in solution the -elements are liberated in quantities proportional to their -equivalents, led to the abandonment of the dualistic -theory. For when a current is passed in succession -through acidified water, fused lead chloride, and a solution -of potassium sulphate, the quantities of hydrogen -and oxygen from the water, of lead and chlorine -from the lead chloride, and the potassium of the sulphate -are in accordance with Faraday’s law. But in -addition to the potassium there is liberated at the same -pole an equivalent of hydrogen. Now, if Berzelius’s -theory be true, the products should be SO<sub>3</sub> and K<sub>2</sub>O, -but if the opposite view be correct, then K<sub>2</sub> is liberated -first and by its subsequent action on water it yields -potash and its equivalent of hydrogen. This was -pointed out first by Daniell, professor at King’s College, -London, and it was regarded as a powerful argument -against Berzelius’s system. In 1833, too, Graham investigated -the phosphoric acids, and prepared the salts -of three, to which he gave the names, <em>ortho-</em>, <em>pyro-</em>, and -<em>meta-</em> phosphoric acids. To understand the bearing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53">53</a></span> -of this on the doctrine of dualism it must be remembered -that P<sub>2</sub>O<sub>5</sub>, pentoxide of phosphorus, was at that -date named phosphoric acid. When dissolved in water -it reacts with bases, forming salts—the phosphates. -But the quantity of water necessary was not then considered -essential; Graham, however, showed that there exist -three series of salts—one set derived from P<sub>2</sub>O<sub>5</sub>,3H<sub>2</sub>O, -one from P<sub>2</sub>O<sub>5</sub>,2H<sub>2</sub>O, and a third from P<sub>2</sub>O<sub>5</sub>,H<sub>2</sub>O. His -way of stating the fact was that water could play the -part of a base; for example, the ordinary phosphate -of commerce possessed, according to him, the formula -P<sub>2</sub>O<sub>5</sub>,2Na<sub>2</sub>O,H<sub>2</sub>O, two-thirds of the “water of constitution” -being replaced by oxide of sodium. Liebig, then -professor at Giessen (1803–1873), founded on these and -on similar observations of his own the doctrine of poly-basic -acids—acids in which one, two, three, or more -atoms of hydrogen were replaceable by metals. Thus, -instead of writing, as Graham did, P<sub>2</sub>O<sub>5</sub>,2Na<sub>2</sub>O,H<sub>2</sub>O, he -wrote, PO<sub>4</sub>Na<sub>2</sub>H; and for orthophosphoric acid PO<sub>4</sub>H<sub>3</sub>. -The group of atoms (PO<sub>4</sub>), therefore, existed throughout -the whole series of orthophosphates, and could exist in -combination with hydrogen, with hydrogen and metals, or -with metals alone. Similarly the group (P<sub>2</sub>O<sub>7</sub>) was characteristic -of pyrophosphates and (PO<sub>3</sub>) of metaphosphates, -for P<sub>2</sub>O<sub>5</sub>,2H<sub>2</sub>O=(P<sub>2</sub>O<sub>7</sub>)H<sub>4</sub>; and P<sub>2</sub>O<sub>5</sub>,H<sub>2</sub>O=2(PO<sub>3</sub>)H.</p> - -<p>The first clear ideas of the structure of the molecule -were, however, gained from the study of the compounds -of carbon. It was difficult to apply the dualistic theory -to them. For few of them are electrolytes, and therefore -their products of electrolysis, being non-existent, -could not be classified. Nevertheless, Gay-Lussac regarded -alcohol, C<sub>2</sub>H<sub>6</sub>O, as a compound of C<sub>2</sub>H<sub>4</sub>, ethylene, -and H<sub>2</sub>O, water; and oxalic acid (anhydrous), C<sub>2</sub>O<sub>3</sub>, as -one of CO<sub>2</sub> with CO. The discovery of “isomeric compounds,” -<i>i.e.</i>, of compounds which possess the same ultimate -formula and yet differ entirely in their properties,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54">54</a></span> -forced upon chemists the necessity of attending to the -structure of the molecule; for only by such a supposition -could the difference between two isomeric bodies -be explained. In 1823 Liebig discovered that silver -fulminate and silver cyanate both possessed the empirical -formula AgCNO; in 1825 this was followed by the -discovery by Faraday that oil gas contains a hydrocarbon -identical in composition with ethylene, C<sub>2</sub>H<sub>4</sub>, yet -differing from it in properties; and in 1829 Wöhler, professor -in Göttingen (1800–1882), discovered that urea, -a constituent of urine, could be produced by heating -ammonium cyanate, NH<sub>4</sub>CNO, a substance of the same -formula. It therefore became clear that the identity -of a compound must depend on some other cause than -its ultimate composition.</p> - -<p>In 1833 Liebig and Wöhler took an important step in -elucidating this question by their investigations on -benzoic acid and acid obtainable by distilling a resin -named gum benzoin. They showed that this acid, -C<sub>7</sub>H<sub>6</sub>O<sub>2</sub>, could be conceived as consisting of the group -C<sub>7</sub>H<sub>5</sub>O, to which they gave the name “benzoyl,” in combination -with OH; that benzoic aldehyde, C<sub>7</sub>H<sub>6</sub>O, might -be regarded as its compound with hydrogen; that it -also formed compounds with chlorine, and bromine, and -sulphur, and replaced hydrogen in ammonia (C<sub>7</sub>H<sub>6</sub>O,NH<sub>2</sub>). -They termed this group, benzoyl, a “compound element” -or a “radical.” This research was followed -by one by Robert Bunsen, professor at Heidelberg, born -in 1811, and recently (1899) dead, which bore reference -to cacodyl, a compound of arsenic, carbon and hydrogen, -in which the idea of a radical was confirmed and -amplified.</p> - -<p>The idea of a radical having thus become established, -Jean Baptiste Andrée Dumas, professor in Paris (1800–1884), -propounded the theory of “substitution,” <i>i.e.</i>, -that an element such as chlorine or oxygen (which, be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55">55</a></span> -it noticed, is electro-negative on Berzelius’s scale) could -replace hydrogen in carbon compounds, atom for atom, -the resulting compound belonging to the same “type” -as the one from which it was derived. And Laurent, -warden of the mint at Paris (1807–1853), and Gerhardt, -professor at Montpelier and at Strasburg (1816–1856), -emphasized the fact that one element, be it what it may, -can replace another without fundamentally altering -its chemical character, and also that an atom of hydrogen -can be replaced by a group of atoms or radical, behaving -for the occasion like the atom of an element. -It is to Laurent and Gerhardt that we owe the definition -of an atom—<em>the smallest quantity of an element which -can be present in a compound</em>; an equivalent—<em>that weight -of an element which combines with or replaces one part -by weight of hydrogen</em>; and a molecule—<em>the smallest -quantity which can exist in a free state, whether of an -element or a compound</em>. They recognized, too, that a -molecule of hydrogen, chlorine, etc., consists of two -atoms.</p> - -<p>In 1849 Wurtz, professor in Paris (1817–1884), and -Hofmann, then professor in the College of Chemistry -in London, afterwards at Berlin (1818–1892), discovered -a series of compounds allied to ammonia, NH<sub>3</sub>, in which -one or more atoms of hydrogen were replaced by a group -or radical, such as methyl (CH<sub>3</sub>), ethyl (C<sub>2</sub>H<sub>5</sub>), or phenyl -(C<sub>6</sub>H<sub>5</sub>). Wurtz referred such compounds to the ammonia -“type.” They all resemble ammonia in their physical -properties—smell, taste, etc.—as well as in their power of -uniting with acids to form salts resembling ammonium -chloride (NH<sub>4</sub>Cl), and other ammonium compounds. -Shortly afterwards Williamson, professor at University -College, London, added the “water type,” in consequence -of his researches on “mixed ethers”—bodies -in which the hydrogen of water might be regarded as -replaced by organic radicals. Thus we have the series:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56">56</a></span> -H. O. H.; CH<sub>3</sub>. O. H.; CH<sub>3</sub>. O. CH<sub>3</sub>; and NH<sub>3</sub>; NH<sub>2</sub>; -H<sub>3</sub>; NH(CH<sub>3</sub>)<sub>2</sub>; and N(CH<sub>3</sub>)<sub>3</sub>; the first representing compounds -following the water type, the latter the ammonia -type. This suggestion had been previously made by -Laurent, in 1846. But Williamson extended his views -to inorganic compounds; thus, sulphuric acid was represented -as constructed on the double water type—HO. -SO<sub>2</sub>. OH, being derived from H. O. (H. H) O. H, the -two hydrogen atoms enclosed in brackets being replaced -by the radical SO<sub>2</sub>. To these types Gerhardt added -the hydrogen and hydrogen chloride types, H.H. and -H.Cl; and, later, Kekulé, professor in Bonn (1829), added -the marsh gas type C(H)<sub>4</sub>. The next important step -was taken by Frankland, professor in the Royal School -of Mines, London; his work, however, had been anticipated -by Cunn Brown, professor at Edinburgh University, -in a pamphlet even yet little known. It was to attribute -to elements one or more powers of combination. -To these he gave the name “valency,” and the capacity -of possessing valency was called “quantivalence.” -Thus hydrogen was taken as a “monad,” or monovalent. -Chlorine, because it unites with hydrogen atom to atom, -is also a monad. Oxygen, having the power to combine -with two atoms of hydrogen, was termed a dyad, or -divalent; nitrogen a triad, or trivalent; carbon a tetrad, -or tetravalent, and so on. This is evident from inspection -of the formulas of their compounds with hydrogen, -thus:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div class="pre"> - H H H<br /> - / \ /<br /> -H——Cl; H——O——H; H——N ; C<br /> - \ / \<br /> - H H H -</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Instances of penta, hexa, and even hepta-valency are -not wanting.</p> - -<p>This was the key to unlock the structure of chemical -compounds; and Frankland’s views, just stated, are -still held by chemists. The determination of the constitution -of compounds, chiefly those of carbon, occupied<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57">57</a></span> -the attention of chemists, almost exclusively, until 1880. -The plan of action is much the same as that of a mechanician -who wishes to imitate a complicated mechanism. -He must first dissect it into groups of mechanical -contrivances; these are next constructed; and they are -finally built together into the complete machine. In -certain cases the atoms of carbon are arranged in -“chains,” as, for example, in pentyl alcohol:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div class="pre"> -H<sub>3</sub>C——C——C——C——C——O——H<br /> - H<sub>2</sub> H<sub>2</sub> H<sub>2</sub> H<sub>2</sub> -</div> -</div></div> - -<p class="in0">each atom being tetrad, and its “affinities,” or powers -of combination, saturated either with hydrogen or with -those of neighboring atoms of carbon; in others they are -in the form of a “ring,” as in benzene, the formula of -which was first suggested by Kekulé, viz.:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div class="pre"> - H H<br /> - C——C<br /> - / \<br /> -HC CH;<br /> - \ /<br /> - C==C<br /> - H H -</div> -</div></div> - -<p class="in0">or in both, as in ethyl benzene,</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div class="pre"> - H H<br /> - C——C<br /> - / \ H H<br /> -HC C——C——CH.<br /> - \ / H H<br /> - C==C<br /> - H H -</div> -</div></div> - -<p class="in0">One or more atoms of nitrogen, or of oxygen, may form -part of the circle, as in pyridine:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div class="pre"> - H H H H<br /> - C——C C C<br /> - / \ /<br /> -N CH and furfurane, O == ,<br /> - \ / \<br /> - C==C C C<br /> - H H H H -</div> -</div></div> - -<p class="in0">and so on. By means of conceptions such as these -many interesting compounds have been built up out -of the elements which they contain; <i>e.g.</i>, urea and uric -acid, constituents of urine; theobromine and caffeine, -the essential principles of cocoa and tea; alizarine and -indigo, valuable dyestuffs; and several of the alkaloids, -bitter principles contained in plants, of great medicinal -value.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58">58</a></span> -They have led, too, to the discovery of many brilliant -colors, now almost universally employed, to the exclusion -of those less brilliant, because less pure, derived -from plants, and in one or two cases from animals; the -manufacture of gun-cotton, dynamite, and similar high -explosives; and to the development of the candle industry; -the sugar manufacture; to improvement in -tanning, in brewing, and in the preparation of gas and -oils for illuminating purposes. In short, it may be said -that the industrial progress of the latter half of the century -has been due to the theoretical views of which a -short sketch has just been given.</p> - -<p>Such formulas, however, can evidently not represent -the true constitution of matter, inasmuch as the atoms -are imagined to lie on a plane, whereas it is evident -that they must occupy space of three dimensions and -possess the attributes of solidity. The conception which -led to the formulation of such views was due first -to Pasteur, in his later years director of the institute -known by his name at Paris, and more directly to -LeBel and Van’t Hoff, now professor at Berlin, independently -of each other. In 1848 Pasteur discovered -that it was possible to separate the two varieties of -tartaric acid from each other; and that that one which -rotated the plane of polarized light to the right gave -crystals with an extra face, unsymmetrically disposed -with regard to the other faces of the crystal. The variety, -the solution of which in water was capable of producing -left-handed rotation, also possessed a similar face, but -so placed that its reflection in a mirror reproduced the -right-handed variety. Pasteur also showed that a -mixture of these acids gave crystals not characterized -by an unsymmetrically placed face; and also that the -solution was without action on polarized light. These -observations remained unexplained, until LeBel and -Van’t Hoff, in 1874, simultaneously and independently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59">59</a></span> -devised a theory which has, up till now, stood the test -of research. It is briefly this: Imagine two regular -tetrahedra, or three-sided pyramids, standing each on its -triangular base. An idea can best be got by a model, -easily made by laying on a table three lucifer matches -so as to form an equilateral triangle, and erecting a -tripod with three other matches, so that each leg of the -tripod stands on one corner of the triangle. At the -centre of such a tetrahedron, an atom of carbon is supposed -to be placed. Marsh gas, CH<sub>4</sub>, is supposed to -have such a structure, each corner, or solid angle of the -structure (of which there are four), being occupied by -an atom of hydrogen. This represents the solid or -<em>stereochemical</em> formula of methane or marsh gas. Now, -suppose one of the atoms of hydrogen in each of these -structures to be replaced by chlorine, the group (OH), -or any other monovalent element or group. It is evident -that if not exactly similar (owing to the replacement -not having been made at similar corners in each), the -two structures can be made similar by turning one of -them round, until the position of the substituting atom -or group (which we will term X) coincides in position -with X in the stationary one. If two such replacements -be made, say, with X and Y in each, coincidence can -again be made to take place; but the same is not the case -if X, Y, and Z replace three atoms of hydrogen in the -structure; for there is one way of replacement which -is the optical image of the other, and represents the -other’s reflection in a mirror.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="max-width: 18.75em;"> -<img src="images/i_059.jpg" width="232" height="74" alt="" /> -<div class="caption">(Tetrahedron XYZ) and (Tetrahedron XZY)</div> -</div> - -<p>Now, it is found that when the four corners of such -a structure are occupied by four separate atoms or groups,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60">60</a></span> -or when (as the expression goes) the body contains -an “asymmetrical carbon atom,” if the substance or -one of its derivations can be obtained in a crystalline -form, the crystals are also asymmetric, <i>i.e.</i>, arc develops -a face which is the mirror-reflection of a similar -face developed on the other variety; and if a beam of -polarized light be passed through the solution of the -substance, its plane is rotated to the left if one variety -be used, and, if the other, to the right. This hypothesis -of LeBel’s and Van’t Hoff’s has had an enormous -influence on the progress of organic chemistry. By -its means Fischer, now professor at Berlin, has explained -the reason of the existence of the enormous -number of bodies analogous to grape and cane sugar, -and has prepared many new varieties; and it appears -likely that the terpenes, a class of bodies allied to turpentine, -and comprising most of the substances to which -the odor of flowers is due, may thereby find their explanation. -It may be mentioned in passing that Pasteur, -having found that ordinary mould destroyed one variety -of tartaric acid rather than the other in a mixture of -the two, and made use of this observation in order to -prepare the unattached variety in a state of purity, was -led to study the action of organisms more or less resembling -mould; and that this has led to the development -of the science of bacteriology, which has had an -enormous influence on our views regarding fermentation -in general, and guides the work of our physicians, our -surgeons (witness Lister’s antiseptic treatment), our -sanitary engineers in their estimate of the purity of -drinking-water and of the disposal of sewage, of our -manufacturers of beer and spirits, of wine-growers, and -more recently of farmers. All these processes depend -upon the action of organisms in producing chemical -changes, whether in the tissues of the body, causing -or curing disease, or in the production of flavored alcohol<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61">61</a></span> -from sugar, or in the manufacture of butter and cheese, -or in preparing the land for the reception of crops. We -also owe to the genius of Van’t Hoff the most important -advance of recent times in the region of physical -chemistry. It has been observed by Raoult, professor -at Grenoble, that the freezing-point of a solvent as a -general rule is lowered to the same extent if there be -dissolved in it quantities of substances proportional to -their molecular weights. Thus, supposing 1.80 grams -of grape-sugar be dissolved in 100 grams of water and -the solution cooled below 0° with constant stirring, ice -separates suddenly in thin spicules, and the temperature -rises to −0.185°. If 3.42 grams of cane-sugar be similarly -dissolved in 100 grams of water, the freezing-point of the -solution is again −0.185°. Now, 1.80 and 3.42 are respectively -the hundredth part of the molecular weights -of grape-sugar (C<sub>6</sub>H<sub>12</sub>O<sub>6</sub>) and cane-sugar (C<sub>12</sub>H<sub>22</sub>O<sub>11</sub>). -Similarly, Raoult found that quantities proportional -to molecular weights dissolved in a solvent depress the -vapor pressure of that solvent equally, or, what comes -to the same thing, raise its boiling-point by an equal -number of degrees. But ordinary salts, such as sodium -chloride, potassium nitrate, etc., dissolved in water, give -too great a depression of the freezing-point and too high -a boiling-point. Next, it has been observed by botanists, -Devries, Pfeffer, and others, who had examined the ascent -of sap in plants, that if a vessel of unglazed porcelain, so -treated as to cause a film of cupric ferrocyanide (a slimy -red compound) to deposit in the pores of its walls, be -filled with a weak (about 1 per cent.) solution of sugar -or similar substance, and plunged in a vessel of pure -water, water entered through the pores. By attaching -a monometer to the porous vessel the pressure exerted -by the entering water could be measured. Such pressure -was termed “osmotic pressure,” referring to the -“osmosis” or passage through the walls of the vessel.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62">62</a></span> -Such prepared walls are permeable freely to water, but -not to sugar or similar bodies. Van’t Hoff pointed out -that the total pressure registered is proportional to the -amount of substance in solution, and that it is proportional -to the absolute temperature, and he showed, besides, -that the pressure exerted by the sugar molecules -is the same as that which would be exerted at the same -temperature were an equal number of molecules of hydrogen -to occupy the same volume as the sugar solution. -This may be expressed by stating that when in dilute -solution sugar molecules behave <em>as if</em> they were present -in the gaseous state. Here again, however, it was -noticed that salts tended to give a higher pressure; it -was difficult to construct a semi-permeable diaphragm, -however, which would resist the passage of salt molecules, -while allowing those of water to pass freely. Lastly, -Arrhenius, of Stockholm, had shown that the conductivity -of salt solutions for electricity may be explained -on the assumption that when a salt, such as -KNO<sub>3</sub> is dissolved in water, it dissociates into portions -similar in number and kind to those it would yield if -electrolyzed (and if no secondary reactions were to take -place). Such portions (K and NO<sub>3</sub>, for example) had -been named ions by Faraday. The conductivity of -such solutions becomes greater, per unit of dissolved -salt, the weaker the solution, until finally a limit is -reached, after which further dilution no longer increases -conductivity. Now Van’t Hoff united all these isolated -observations and showed their bearing on each other. -Stated shortly, the hypothesis is as follows: When a -substance is dissolved in a large quantity of a solvent, -its molecules are separated from each other to a distance -comparable with that which obtains in gases. They -are, therefore, capable of independent action; and when -placed in a vessel the walls of which are permeable to the -solvent, but not to the dissolved substance (“semi-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63">63</a></span>permeable -membrane”), the imprisoned molecules of -the latter exert pressure on the interior surface of these -walls as if they were gaseous. Van’t Hoff showed the -intimate connection between this phenomenon and the -depression of freezing-point and the use of vapor pressure -already alluded to. He pointed out further that the exceptions -to this behavior, noticed in the case of dissolved -salts, are due to their “electric dissociation,” or “ionization,” -as it is now termed; and that in a sufficiently dilute -solution of potassium nitrate, for example, the osmotic -pressure, and the correlated depression of freezing-point -and rise of boiling-point, are practically equal to what -would be produced were the salt to be split into its ions, -K and NO<sub>3</sub>. These views were vigorously advocated -by Ostwald, professor at Leipzig, in his <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Zeitschrift für -physikalische Chemie</cite>, and he and his pupils have done -much to gather together facts in confirmation of this -theory, and in extending its scope.</p> - -<p>It must be understood that the ions K and NO<sub>3</sub> are -not, strictly speaking, atoms; they are <em>charged</em> atoms; -the K retains a +, and the NO<sub>3</sub> a − charge. On immersing -into the solution the poles of a battery, one -charged + and the other −, the + K atoms are attracted -to the − pole, and are there discharged; as soon as they -lose their charge they are free to act on the water, when -they liberate their equivalent of hydrogen. Similarly, -the − NO<sub>3</sub> groups are discharged at the + pole, and -abstract hydrogen from the water, liberating an equivalent -quantity of oxygen. Thus the phenomenon of -electrolysis, so long a mysterious process, finds a simple -explanation. The course of ordinary chemical reactions -is also readily realized when viewed in the light -of this theory. Take, for example, the ordinary equation:</p> - -<p class="center smaller"> -AgNO<sub>3</sub>.Aq + NaCl.Ag = AgCl + NaNO<sub>3</sub>.Aq; -</p> - -<p class="in0"><i>i.e.</i>, solutions of silver nitrate and sodium chloride give<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64">64</a></span> -a precipitate of silver chloride, leaving sodium nitrate -in solution. By the new views, such an equation must -be written:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div class="pre"> -+ − + − + −<br /> -Ag.Aq + NO<sub>3</sub>.Aq + Na.Aq + Cl.Aq = AgCl + Na.Aq + NO<sub>3</sub>.Aq. -</div> -</div></div> - -<p>The compound, silver chloride, being insoluble in -water, is formed by the union of the ions Ag and Cl, -and their consequent discharge, forming an electrically -neutral compound; while the sodium ions, charged -positively together with the NO<sub>3</sub> ions, negatively charged, -remain in solution.</p> - -<p>One more application of the principle may be given. -Many observers—Andrews, Favre, and Silbermann, -but especially Julius Thomsen, of Copenhagen, and M. -Berthelot, of Paris—have devoted much labor and time -to the measurement of the heat evolved during chemical -reactions. Now, while very different amounts of heat -are evolved when chlorine, bromine, or iodine combine -respectively with sodium or potassium, the number of -heat units evolved on neutralizing sodium or potassium -hydroxide with hydrochloric, hydrobromic, hydriodic, -or nitric acids is always about 13,500. How can this fact -be explained? It finds its explanation as follows: These -acids and bases are ionized in solution as shown in the -equation:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="ilb"> -<div class="pre"> -+ − + − + −<br /> -H.Aq + Cl.Aq. + Na.Aq + OH.Aq = H.OH + Na.Aq + Cl.Aq. -</div> -</div></div> - -<p class="in0">Water is the only compound formed; and it is produced -by the union of the hydrogen-ion originally belonging -to the acid, and the OH or hydroxyl-ion originally belonging -to the base. No further change has occurred; -hence the uniform evolution of heat by the interaction -of equivalent quantities of these acids and bases.</p> - -<p>It now remains to give a short account of the greatest -generalization which has as yet been made in chemistry.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65">65</a></span> -It has been termed the “Periodic Arrangement of the -Elements.”</p> - -<p>In 1864 Newlands, of London, and Lothar Meyer, late -of Tübingen, found that by arranging the elements in -the order of their atomic weights certain regularities -were to be observed between each element, and in general -the eighth in succession from it, in the order of their -numerical value. Such similar elements formed groups -or quantities; while the elements separating them belong -to a <em>period</em>, hence the name “periodic arrangement.” -Commencing with lithium, a light, lustrous -metal found in silicate in certain minerals, we have the -following series:</p> - -<div class="center smaller ept"><div class="centerblock"> -<table class="lrpad" summary="Early Periodic Table"> - <tr> - <td class="tdc">Lithium</td> - <td class="tdc">Beryllium</td> - <td class="tdc">Boron</td> - <td class="tdc">Carbon</td> - <td class="tdc">Nitrogen</td> - <td class="tdc">Oxygen</td> - <td class="tdc">Fluorine</td> - <td class="tdc">Neon</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc">7</td> - <td class="tdc">9.2</td> - <td class="tdc">11</td> - <td class="tdc">12</td> - <td class="tdc">14</td> - <td class="tdc">16</td> - <td class="tdc">19</td> - <td class="tdc">20</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc">Sodium</td> - <td class="tdc">Magnesium</td> - <td class="tdc">Aluminum</td> - <td class="tdc">Silicon</td> - <td class="tdc">Phosphorus</td> - <td class="tdc">Sulphur</td> - <td class="tdc">Chlorine</td> - <td class="tdc">Argon</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc">23</td> - <td class="tdc">24.3</td> - <td class="tdc">27</td> - <td class="tdc">28</td> - <td class="tdc">31</td> - <td class="tdc">34</td> - <td class="tdc">35.5</td> - <td class="tdc">40</td></tr> -</table> -</div></div> - -<p class="in0">and so on. It is unnecessary to point out in detail the -resemblances between the elements which stand in the -vertical columns; but it may be stated that the resemblance -extends also to the formulas and properties of -their compounds. Thus the chlorides of lithium and -sodium are each white soluble salts, of the formulas -LiCl and NaCl; oxides of magnesium and of beryllium -are both insoluble white earthy powders, MgO and -BeO (GeO), and so on. Newlands, in his preliminary -sketch, termed this order the “Law of Octaves,” -and predicted the existence of certain undiscovered -elements which should occupy unfilled positions in the -table. Mendeléef, professor at St. Petersburg, in 1869 -amplified and extended these relations; and he and -Meyer pointed out that the volume occupied by equal -numbers of atoms of such elements underwent a periodic<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66">66</a></span> -variation when the elements are classified as above. -The prediction of undiscovered elements was made by -Mendeléef in a more assured manner; and in several -cases they have been realized. Thus what Mendeléef -called “ekaboron” has since been discovered by Lecoq -de Boisbandron and named, patriotically, “gallium”; -Mendeléef’s “eka-silicon” is now known as “germanium,” -discovered by Winkler; and “eka-aluminum” -is now Cléve’s “scandium.” Moreover, the atomic -weights of cæsium, beryllium, molybdenium, and mercury -have been altered so that they fit the periodic table; -and further research has justified the alteration.</p> - -<p>The valency of these elements increases from right -to left, as will be seen by inspection of the following -series:</p> - -<div class="center smaller"><div class="centerblock"> -<table class="lrpad" summary="valency"> - <tr> - <td class="tdc">LiCl</td> - <td class="tdc">BeCl<sub>3</sub></td> - <td class="tdc">BCl<sub>3</sub></td> - <td class="tdc">CCl<sub>4</sub></td> - <td class="tdc">NH<sub>4</sub>Cl</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc">Na<sub>2</sub>O</td> - <td class="tdc">MgO</td> - <td class="tdc">B<sub>2</sub>O<sub>3</sub></td> - <td class="tdc">SiO<sub>2</sub></td> - <td class="tdc">PCl<sub>3</sub></td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc">Monad.</td> - <td class="tdc">Dyad.</td> - <td class="tdc">Triad.</td> - <td class="tdc">Tetrad.</td> - <td class="tdc">Triad and Pentad.</td></tr> - <tr class="tpad"> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">OH<sub>2</sub></td> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">FH</td> - <td class="tdc">Ne——</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">SO<sub>3</sub></td> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">Cl(OH)O<sub>3</sub></td> - <td class="tdc">A——</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">Dyad and Hexad.</td> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2">Monad and Heptad.</td> - <td class="tdc">No valency.</td></tr> -</table> -</div></div> - -<p>The elements of no valency are of recent discovery. -In 1894 Lord Rayleigh had determined the density of -the nitrogen of the atmosphere, having separated from -it the oxygen and carbon dioxide which is mixed with -nitrogen in air. He found it to be of somewhat higher -density than that obtainable from ammonia and other -compounds of nitrogen. In conjunction with Ramsay -he investigated atmospheric nitrogen; it was absorbed -either by a method devised by Cavendish, or by making -it combine with magnesium at a red heat. They found -that the unabsorbable residue possessed an unknown -spectrum, and that its density was nearly 20. To this -new gas they gave the name “argon,” or inactive, seeing -that all attempts to cause it to enter into combination<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67">67</a></span> -had failed. In 1895 Ramsay, searching for possible -combinations of argon in minerals, experimented with -one which had been previously examined by Hillebrand, -of Baltimore, and obtained from it helium, a gas of density -2, possessing a spectrum which had been previously -discovered in 1868 in the chromosphere of the sun, by -Jannsen, of Paris, and named helium by Frankland and -Lockyer. Subsequent liquefaction of crude argon by -means of liquid air, prepared by a process invented simultaneously -by Linde and Hampson, gave a residue -which was named by its discoverers, Ramsay and Travers, -“neon.” Liquid argon has yielded two other gases -also, “krypon” and “xenon.” These elements form a -separate group in the Periodic Table, commencing with -helium, with atomic weight, 4; neon, 20; argon, 40; -krypon, 82; and xenon, 128. They all agree in being -mono-atomic, <i>i.e.</i>, their molecules consist of single atoms; -and they have no tendency to form compounds, <i>i.e</i>., they -possess no valency.</p> - -<p>In this sketch of the progress of chemistry during the -century which has just passed, attention has been paid -chiefly to the progress of thought. Allusions must, -however, be made to the applications of chemistry to -industrial purposes. The development of the soda industry, -the preparation of carbonate of soda and caustic -from common salt—initiated in France by LeBlanc -(1742–1806)—has been developed by Tennant, in Scotland, -and Muspeath and Gossage, and by Hargreaves, Weldon, -and Maetea, in England; this process has at present a -serious rival in the ammonia-soda process, developed -by Solway, in Belgium, and by Brunner and Mond, in -England. The main action of sulphuric acid, so long -associated with the alkali process, has made enormous -strides during the present century, but is still, in the -main, the original process of causing sulphur dioxide in -presence of water to absorb the oxygen of the air through<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68">68</a></span> -nitric oxide. But the saving of the oxides of nitrogen -through the invention of a sulphuric acid power by Gay-Lussac, -known by his name, and the re-utilization of these -oxides in the “Glover” power, invented by John Glover, -of Newcastle, have greatly lessened the cost of the acid. -Concentration of the acid in iron vessels is now common, -the cost of platinum or of fragile glass vessels being -thereby saved. The desulphurization of iron and the -removal of silicon, carbon, and phosphorus by Bessemer’s -process, modified by Thomas and Gilchrist through -the introduction of a “basic magnesia lining” for the -convertors, has made it possible to obtain pure iron and -steel from ores previously regarded as of little value.</p> - -<p>The use of artificial manures, prepared by mixing -refuse animal matters with tetra-hydrogen, calcium -phosphate, and nitrate of soda, or sulphate of ammonia, -first introduced by Liebig, has created a revolution in -agricultural methods and in the weight of crops obtainable -from a given area of soil. The influence of manures -on crops has been fully studied by Lawes and Gilbert -for more than fifty years in their experimental farm at -Rothampstead. The most remarkable advances which -have been made, however, are due to cheap electric current. -The electrolysis of alumina, dissolved in fused -cryolite to obtain aluminum, an operation carried out at -Schaffhausen-on-the-Rhine, and at the Falls of Foyers, -in Scotland; the electro-deposition of pure copper for -electric wires and cables, electro-silvering, gilding, and -nickelling, all these are instances where decomposition -of a compound by the electric current has led to important -industrial results. At present soda and chlorine -are being manufactured by the electrolysis of salt solution -contained in rocking trays, one of the electrodes -being mercury, by the Castner-Kellner process. This -manufacture is being carried on at Niagara, as well as -in England. But electricity as a heating agent finds<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69">69</a></span> -ever-extending application. Louis Moisson, professor -at Paris, led the way by utilizing the enormous heat of -the ore in his electric furnace, thereby, among other interesting -reactions, manufacturing diamonds, small, it -is true, though none the less real. The use of electricity -as a heating agent has received new applications. -Phosphorus is now made by distilling a mixture of phosphates -of lime and alumina with coke; a new polishing -agent has been found in “carborundum,” a compound -of carbon and silicon, produced by heating in an electric -furnace a mixture of sand and coke; and cyanide of -potassium, almost indispensable for the extraction of -gold from ores poor in gold, is now manufactured by -heating a mixture of carbon and carbonate of barium -in an electric furnace in a current of carbon monoxide. -These are but some of the instances in which electricity -has been adopted as an agent in effecting chemical -changes; and it may be confidently predicted that the -earlier years of the twentieth century will witness a great -development in this direction. It may be pointed out -that the later developments of industrial chemistry owe -their success entirely to the growth of chemical theory; -and it is obvious that that nation which possesses the -most competent chemists, theoretical and practical, -is destined to succeed in the competition with other nations -for commercial supremacy and all its concomitant advantages.</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">William Ramsay.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73">73</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="ARCHAEOLOGY"></a>ARCHÆOLOGY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">To</span> write of the progress of archæology in this century -is scarcely possible, as the idea of the subject was -unknown a hundred years ago; it is, therefore, the -whole history of its opening and development that we have -to deal with. The conception of the history of man being -preserved to us in material facts, and not only in written -words, was quite disregarded until the growth of geology -had taught men to read nature for themselves, instead of -trusting to the interpretations formed by their ancestors. -Even down to the present the academic view is that classical -archæology is more important than other branches, -because it serves to illustrate classical literature. Looked -at as archæology, it is, on the contrary, the least important -branch, because we already know so much more -of the classical ages than we do of others.</p> - -<p>It is only within the present generation that it has been -realized that wherever man has lived he has left the -traces of his action, and that a systematic and observant -study of those remains will interpret to us what his life -was, what his abilities and tastes were, and the extent -and nature of his mind. Literature is but one branch of -the archæology of the higher races; another—equally -important for the understanding of man—is art; these -two give the highest and most complex and characteristic -view of the nature of a race. At the opposite end of -the scale are the rudest stone weapons which remain as -the sole traces of the savages who used them. These<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74">74</a></span> -highest and lowest evidences of mind, and all that lies -between them, are the domain of archæology.</p> - -<p>We now purpose to review the growth of archæology -in contact with geology, where it concerns man as the -last of the links of life on the globe; and then to notice -the archæology of each country in turn, as it leads on to -the times of historical record, and so passes down to modern -times.</p> - -<p>A century ago the world of thought was divided between -the old and new ideas very differently from what -is now the case. Then there stood on one side the idea -of a special creation of an individual man, at 4000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>; -the compression of all human history into a prehistoric -age of about three thousand years, and a fairly logical -solution of most of the difficulties of understanding in a -comfortable teleology. On the other hand stood many -who felt the inherent improbability of such solutions of -the problem of life, and who were feeling their way to -some more workable theory on the basis of Laplace, Lamarck, -Erasmus Darwin, and others; vaguely mingling -together questions of physics, geology, archæology, anthropology, -and theology, each of which we now see must -be treated on its own basis, and be decided on internal -evidence, before we can venture to let it affect our judgment -on other points.</p> - -<p>The great new force which thrust itself in to divide -and decide on these questions is the scientific study of -man and his works. Strangely shaped flints had been -noticed, but no one had any knowledge of their age. -One such, when found with the bones of a mammoth, -was attributed to the Roman age, because no person -could have brought elephants into Britain except some -Roman general. The argument was excellent and irrefutable -until geology found plenty more remains of the -mammoth and showed that it was here long before the -Romans. It was less than half a century ago that our<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75">75</a></span> -eyes began to open to the abundant remains of flint-using -man. Then a single rude stone weapon was an -unexplained curiosity; now an active collector will put -together his tens of thousands of specimens, will know -exactly where they were found, their relation of age and -of purpose, and their bearing on the history of man.</p> - -<p>Not only have worked flint implements been found -in the river gravels of France and England, where they -were first noticed in the middle of this century, but also -in most parts of Europe, in Egypt on the high desert, -in Somaliland, at the Cape of Good Hope, in India, America, -and other countries; and the most striking feature -is the exact similarity in form wherever they have been -found. So precisely do the same types recur, so impossible -would it be to say from its form whether a flint -had been found in Europe, Asia, or Africa, that it -appears as if the art of working had spread from some -single centre over the rest of the world. This is especially -the case with the river-gravel flints—the earlier class—usually -called Paleolithic. Soon after the general division -had been made between polished stone-work of -the later or Neolithic times, found on the surface, and -the rough chipped work of the earlier or Paleolithic -times, found in geological deposits, a further sub-division -was made by separating the Paleolithic age into that of -the river gravels and that of the cave-dwellers. The latter -has again been divided into three classes by French -writers, named, from their localities, <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Mousterien</i>, <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Solutrien</i>, -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Magdalenien</i>; and, though these classes may be -much influenced by locality, they probably have some -difference of age between them.</p> - -<p>And now within the last few years a still earlier kind -of workmanship has been recognized in flints found -in England on the high hills in Kent. Though at first -much disputed, the human origin of the forms is now -generally acknowledged, and they show a far ruder<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76">76</a></span> -ability than even the most massive of the Paleolithic -forms. The position also of these flints, in river deposits -lying on the highest hills some six hundred feet -above the present rivers, shows that the whole of the -valleys has been excavated since they were deposited, -and implies a far greater age than any of the gravel -beds of the Paleolithic ages.</p> - -<p>We, therefore, have passed now at the beginning of -this century to a far wider view of man’s history, and -classify his earlier ages in Europe thus:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>First—Eolithic: Rudest massive flints from deposits 600 feet up.</p> - -<p>Second—Paleolithic: Massive flints from gravels 200 feet up and -less (Achuleen).</p> - -<p>Third—Paleolithic—Cave-dwellers: Flints like the preceding and -flakes (Mousterien).</p> - -<p>Fourth—Paleolithic—Cave-dwellers: Flints well worked and finely -shaped (Solutrien).</p> - -<p>Fifth—Paleolithic—Cave-dwellers: Abundant bone working and -drawing (Magdalenien).</p> - -<p>Sixth—Neolithic: Polished flint working, pastoral and agricultural -man.</p></blockquote> - -<p>What time these periods cover nothing yet proves. -The date of 4000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> for man’s appearance, with which -belief the nineteenth century started, has been pushed -back by one discovery after another. Estimates of from -10,000 to 200,000 years have been given from various possible -clews. In Egypt an exposure of 7000 years or more -only gives a faint brown tint to flints lying side by side -with Paleolithic flints that are black with age. I incline -to think that 100,000 years <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> for the rise of the second -class, and 10,000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> for the rise of the sixth class -will be a moderate estimate.</p> - -<p>Passing now from Paleolithic man of the latest geological -times whose works lie under the deposit of ages, -to Neolithic man of surface history whose polished stone -tools lie on the ground, we find also how greatly views -have changed. For ages past metal-using man has<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77">77</a></span> -looked on the beautifully polished or chipped weapons -of his forefathers as “thunderbolts,” possessing magic -powers, and he often mounted the smaller ones to wear -as charms. At the beginning of this century well-finished -stone weapons were only preserved as curiosities -which might belong to some remote age, but without -any definite ideas about them. The recognition of long -ages of earlier unpolished stone work has now put these -more elaborate specimens to a comparatively late period, -and yet they are probably older than the date to which -our forefathers placed the creation of man.</p> - -<p>The beginning of a more intelligent knowledge of -such things was laid by the systematic excavations -of the burial mounds scattered over the south of England, -which was done in the early part of this century by Sir -Richard Colt Hoare. A solid basis of facts was laid, -which began to supersede the romances woven by Stukeley -and others in the last century. Gradually more -exact methods of search were introduced, and in the -last thirty years Canon Greenwell has done much, and -General Pitt Rivers has established a standard of accurate -and complete work with perfect recording, which -is the highest development of archæological study. -These and other researches have opened up the life of -Neolithic man to us, and we see that he was much as -modern man, if compared with the earlier stage of man -as a hunter. The Neolithic man made pottery, spun and -wove linen, constructed enormous earthworks both for -defence and for burial, and systematically made his -tools of the best material he could obtain by combined -labor in mining. The extensive flint-mines in chalk -districts of England show long-continued labor; and -the perfect form and splendid finish of many of the -stone weapons show that skilled leisure could be devoted -to them, and that æsthetic taste had been developed. -The large camps prove that a thorough tribal organization<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78">78</a></span> -prevailed, though probably confined to small -clans.</p> - -<p>About the middle of the century a new type of dwelling -began to be explored—the lake dwelling; this system -of building towns upon piles in lakes had the great advantage -of protection from enemies and wild beasts, -and a constant supply of food in the fish that could be -hooked from the water below. Though such settlements -were first found in the Swiss lakes, and explored -there by Keller, they have since been found in France, -Hungary, Italy, Holland, and the British Isles. The -earlier settlements of this form belong to the Neolithic -age, but only in central Europe. In these earliest lake -dwellings weaving was known, and the cultivation of -flax, grapes, and other fruit and corn; while the usual -domestic animals were kept and cattle were yoked to the -plough; pottery was abundant, and was often ornamented -with geometric patterns. The type of man was -round-headed. Following the Neolithic lake dwellings -came those of the Bronze age, and as the bronze objects -are similar to those found in other kinds of dwellings -we shall notice them in the Bronze age in general. The -type of man was longer-headed than in the earlier lake -settlement. The domestication of animals shows an advance; -the horse was common, and the dog, ox, pig, and -sheep were greatly improved. Pottery was better made -and elaborately decorated, often with strips of tin-foil.</p> - -<p>The Bronze age marks a great step in man’s history. -In many countries the use of copper, hardened by arsenic -or oxide, was common for long before the alloy of copper -and tin was used. In other countries, where the use of -metals was imported, copper only appears as a native -imitation of the imported bronze. Hence there is a true -age of copper in lands where the use of metals has grown. -It must by no means be supposed that copper excluded -the use of flint; it was not until bronze became common<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79">79</a></span> -that flint was disused. The existence of a Bronze age -was first formulated, as distinct from a Stone age, about -seventy years ago; and the existence of a Copper age has -been much disputed in the last thirty years, but has -only been proved clearly ten years ago, in Egypt.</p> - -<p>In the eighteenth century the bronze weapons found -in England were attributed to the Romans by some -writers, though others, with more reason, argued that -they were British. In the first year of the century -began the comparative study of such weapons with -reference to modern savage products. The development -of the metal forms from stone prototypes was pointed -out in 1816; the tracing out of the succession of the forms -and the modes of use appeared in 1847. Further study -cleared up the details, and within the last twenty years -the full knowledge of the Bronze age in other countries -has left no question as to the general facts of the sequence -of its history. In each type of tool and weapon there -appears first a very simple form imitated from the stone -implements which were earlier used. Gradually the -facilities given by the casting and toughness of the -metal were used, and the forms were modified; ornamentation -was added, and thin work in embossed patterns -gave the stiffness and strength which had been -attained before by massive forms. The general types -are the axe—first a plain slip of metal, later developed -with a socket; then the chisel, gouge, sickle, knife, -dagger, sword, spear, and shield; personal objects, as -pins, necklets, bracelets, ear-rings, buttons, buckles, and -domestic caldrons and cups. Most of these forms were -found together, all worn out and broken, in the great -bronze-founder’s hoard at Bologna.</p> - -<p>Lastly in the prehistory of Europe comes the Iron age, -which so much belongs to the historical period that we -can best consider it in noticing separate countries.</p> - -<p>From the recent discoveries in Egypt we can gain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80">80</a></span> -some idea of the date of these periods. We ventured -to assign about 10,000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> for the rise of the Neolithic -or polished-stone period (it may very possibly be earlier); -the beginning of the use of copper may be placed about -5000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>; the beginning of bronze was perhaps 3000 -or 2000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, as its free use in Egypt is not till 1600 -<span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>; and the use of iron beginning about 1000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, -probably in Armenia, spreading thence through Europe -until it reached Italy, perhaps 700 years <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, and Britain -about 400 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> Such is the briefest outline of the greater -part of the history of man, massed together in one general -term of “prehistoric,” before we reach the little -fringe of history nearest to our own age. The whole -of this knowledge results from the work of the century.</p> - -<p>We now turn to the historical ages of each of the principal -countries, to review what advance has been made -even where a basis of written record has come down to -us, equally accessible in all recent times.</p> - -<h3>EGYPT</h3> - -<p>At the beginning of the century Egypt was a land -of untouched and inexplicable mystery; the hieroglyphics -were wondered at, and puzzled over, without any -idea of how they were to be read, whether as symbols -or as letters. The history was entirely derived from -the confused accounts of Greek authors, the lists remaining -of Manetho’s history, written about 260 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, -and the allusions in the Bible. The attempt to make -everything fit to the ideas of the Greeks, and to make -everything refer to the Biblical history, greatly retarded -the understanding of the monuments, and is scarcely -overcome yet. The first great step forward was when -an inscription was found at Rosetta, in 1799, written -in two methods, the monumental hieroglyphic and the -popular demotic, along with a Greek version. By 1802<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81">81</a></span> -some groups of each writing had been translated. Young -identified more signs, and Gell, by 1822, could successfully -apportion three-quarters of the signs to the -Greek words. The next step was to apply the modern -Coptic language, descended from the ancient Egyptian, -to the reading of the words. Gell had been doing so, -but it needed a student of Coptic—Champollion—to -carry this out thoroughly, as he did in 1821–32. Since -then advance in reading has been only a matter of detail, -not requiring any new principles.</p> - -<p>The knowledge of the art began with the admiration -for the debased work of Roman times, the principal -interest at the beginning of the century. Then the -excavations among the Rameside monuments at Thebes, -about 1820–30, took attention back to the age of 1500–1000 -<span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> The work of Lepsius, and later of Mariette, -from 1840–80, opened men’s eyes to the splendid work -of the early dynasties, about 4000–3000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> And lastly -the excavations of 1893–99 have fascinated scholars by -a view of the rise of the civilization and the prehistoric -period before 5000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span></p> - -<p>Throughout the greater part of the century the archæology -of Egypt lay untouched; all attention was given -to the language; and even Gardner Wilkinson’s fine -view of the civilization (1837) depended largely on Greek -authors, and had no perspective of history in tracing -changes and development. It is only in the last ten -or fifteen years that any exact knowledge has been acquired -about the rise and progress of the various arts -of life; this study now enables us to date the sculpture, -metal work, pottery, and other art products as exactly as -we can those of the Middle Ages.</p> - -<p>The view that we now have of the rise and decay of -this great civilization and its connection with other -lands is more complete and far-reaching than that of -any other country. In the early undated age, before<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82">82</a></span> -the monarchy which began about 4800 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, a flourishing -civilization was spread over upper Egypt. Towns -were built of brick, as in later times; clothing was made -of woven linen and of leather; pottery was most skilfully -formed, without the potter’s wheel, hand-made, yet of -exquisite regularity and beauty of outline, while the -variety of form is perhaps greater than in any other -land; stone vases were made entirely by hand, without -a lathe, as perfect in form as the pottery, and of the hardest -rocks, as diorite and granite; wood was carved for -furniture; the art of colored glazing was common, and -was even applied to glazing over large carvings in rock -crystal; ornaments and beads were wrought of various -stones and precious metals; ivory combs with carved -figures adorned the hair; ivory spoons were used at -the table; finely formed weapons and tools of copper -served where strength was needful, while more useful -were flint knives and lances which were wrought with a -miraculous finish that has never been reached by any -other people; and games were played with dainty pieces -made of hard stone and of ivory. But all this tasteful -skill of 6000–5000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> had its negative side; in the -artistic copying of nature the mechanical skill of these -people carried them a very little way; their figures and -heads of men and animals are strangely crude. And -they had no system of writing, although marks were -commonly used. They always buried the body doubled -up, and often preserved the head and hands separately. -Commerce was already active, and large rowing-galleys -carried the wares of different countries around the Mediterranean. -These people were the same as the modern -Kabyle, of Algeria, and akin to the South European -races, but with some negro admixture. Our whole -knowledge of this age has only been gained within the -last five years.</p> - -<p>At about 5000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> there poured into Egypt a very<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83">83</a></span> -different people, probably from the Red Sea. Having -far more artistic taste, a commoner use of metals, a system -of writing already begun, and a more organized -government, these fresh people started a new civilization -in Egypt; adopting readily the art and skill of the -earlier race, they formed by their union the peculiar -culture known as Egyptian, a type which lasted for four -thousand years. The same foundation of a type is seen -in the bodily structure; the early historical people had -wider heads and more slender noses than the prehistoric, -but from 4000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> down to Roman times the form shows -no change.</p> - -<p>From this union of two able races came one of the -finest peoples ever seen, the Egyptians of the old kingdom, -4500—3500 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> Full of grand conceptions, active, -able, highly mechanical, and yet splendid artists, -they have left behind them the greatest masses of building, -the most accurate workmanship and exquisite -sculptures in the grand pyramids and tombs of their -cemeteries. They perfected the art of organizing combined -labor on the immense public works. In all these -respects no later age or country has advanced beyond -this early ability. The moral character and ideas are -preserved to us in the writings of these people; and we -there read of the ability, reserve, steadfastness, and -kindliness which we see reflected in the lifelike portraiture -of that age.</p> - -<p>After a partial decay about 3000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> this civilization -blossomed out again nobly in the twelfth dynasty about -2600 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>; though the works of this age hardly reach -the high level of the earlier times, yet they are finer than -anything that followed them. At this period more contact -with other countries is seen; both Syria and the -Mediterranean were known, though imperfectly.</p> - -<p>To this succeeded another decadence, sealed by the -disaster of the foreign invasion of the Hyksos. But<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84">84</a></span> -this was thrown off by the rise of a third age of brilliance—the -eighteenth dynasty, 1500 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>—which, though inferior -to early times in its highest work, yet shines by -the widespread of art and luxury throughout the upper -classes. Magnificence became fashionable, and the -lower classes contented themselves with most barefaced -imitations of costly wares. Foreign islands came closely -in contact with Egypt. The ships of the Syrian coast -and Cyprus continually traded to and fro, exchanging -silver, copper, and precious stones for the gold of Egypt. -Greece also traded its fine pottery of the Mycenæan age -for the showy necklaces of gold and the rings and amulets -with names of Pharaohs. Egypt then dominated -the shores of the western Mediterranean, the plains of the -Euphrates, and the fertile Soudan. But this power and -wealth led to disaster. Like Rome, later on, she could -not resist the temptation to live on plunder; heavy tribute -of corn was exacted, large numbers were employed -in unproductive labor, and national disaster was the -natural consequence. Egypt never recovered the dominion -or the splendor that were hers in this age. Of -this period some slight notions are given us from literary -remains in the Bible and Greek authors; but archæology -is, so far, our only practical guide, as in the earlier ages. -The great temples and monuments of the eighteenth-twentieth -dynasties (1600–1100 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>) bear hundreds of -historical inscriptions, the tombs are covered with scenes -of private life, the burials and the ruins of towns furnish -us with all the objects of daily use. This age is -one of the fullest and richest in all history, and hardly -any other is better known even in Greece or Italy. Yet -all this has been brought to light in the century, and the -knowledge of the foreign relations of Egypt is entirely -the result of the last fifteen years.</p> - -<p>The final thousand years of the civilization of Egypt -is checkered with many changes; sometimes independent,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85">85</a></span> -as in the ages of Shishak of Necho, and of the Ptolemies; -at other times a prey to Ethiopians, Persians, -Greeks, or Romans. Its arts and crafts show a constant -decay, and there was but little left to resist the influence -of Greek taste and design, which ran a debased course -in the country. There was, however, a spread of manufactures -and of cheap luxuries into lower and lower -classes; and the wealth of the country accumulated -under the beneficent rule of the earlier Ptolemies (300–200 -<span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>).</p> - -<p>The principal discoveries about these later ages have -been in the papyri, which have been largely found during -the last twenty years. The details of the government -and life of the country in the Ptolemaic (305–30 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>) -and Roman (30 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>–640 <span class="smcap smaller">A. D.</span>) periods have been cleared -up; and many prizes of classical literature have also -been recovered. The archæology of the Middle Ages -in Egypt has also been studied. Many of the Arabic -buildings have been recently cleaned and put in good -condition, and the splendid collection of manuscripts -in Cairo has opened a view of the beautiful art of the -thirteenth-fifteenth centuries so closely akin to what -was done in Europe at the same time.</p> - -<p>Egypt is, then, before all other lands, the country of -archæology. A continuous history of seven thousand -years, with abundant remains of every period to illustrate -it, and a rich prehistoric age before that, give completeness -to the study and the fullest value to archæological -research.</p> - -<h3>MESOPOTAMIA</h3> - -<p>The valley of the Euphrates might well rival that of -the Nile if it were scientifically explored, but unhappily -all the excavation has been done solely with a view to -inscription and sculpture, and no proper record has been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86">86</a></span> -made, nor have any towns been examined, the only work -being in palaces and temples.</p> - -<p>The earliest study on the ground was by Rich (1818–20), -who gathered some few sculptures and formed an idea -of Assyrian art. The French Consul, Botta, excavated -Khorsabad (founded 700 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>) in 1834–35, and Layard -excavated Nimrud in 1845–47; these were both Assyrian -sites. The older Babylonian civilization was -touched at Erech by Loftus, in 1849–52; and this age -has attracted the most important excavations made since, -at Tello by Sarzec (1876–81), and at Nippur by Peters -and Haynes, of Philadelphia, during the last few years.</p> - -<p>The cuneiform characters were absolutely unexplained -until Grotefend, in 1800, resolved several of -them by taking inscriptions which he presumed might -contain names of Persian kings and comparing them -alongside of the known names; thus—without a single -fixed point to start from—he tried a series of hypotheses -until he found one which fitted the facts. Bournouf -(in 1836) and Lassen (1836–44) rectified and completed -the alphabet. But the cuneiform signs were used to -write many diverse languages, as the Roman alphabet -is used at present; and the short Persian alphabet was -only a fraction of the great syllabary of six hundred signs -used for Assyrian. Rawlinson had independently made -out the Persian alphabet, using the Zend and Sanskrit -for the language. He next, from the trilingual -Behistun inscription in Persian, Assyrian, and Vannic, -resolved the long Assyrian syllabary, using Hebrew -for the language. Since then other more obscure languages -written in cuneiform have been worked with -more or less success; the most important is the Turanian -language, used by the earlier inhabitants of Babylonia -before the Semitic invasion; this is recorded by -many syllabaries and dictionaries, and translations -compiled by the literary Semitic kings.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87">87</a></span> -The general view of the civilization which has been -obtained by these labors of the century shows it to have -been more important to the world than any other. Cuneiform -was the literary script of the world for at least six -thousand years, the only medium of writing from the -Mediterranean to the Indian Ocean. The Babylonian -culture was almost certainly the source of the oldest -present civilization—that of China. And the arts were -developed probably even earlier than in Egypt. The -first inhabitants were called Sumirian (or river folk) -in distinction from the Accadian (or highland) people, -who came from Elam down into the Euphrates valley, -bringing with them the use of writing. Their earliest -writing was of figure symbols (like the Egyptian and -Hittite); but as in the valley clay tablets were the only -material for writing, the figures became gradually transformed -into groups of straight lines and spots impressed -on the clay; hence the signs were formalized into what -we call cuneiform. The Semitic invaders were using -cuneiform characters by about 3000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span></p> - -<p>The early civilization was intensely religious, the -main buildings being the temples, which were placed -on enormous piles of brick-work. The sculpture was -at a high level in the time of Naram-Sinn, about 3750 -<span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>; and yet below his ruins at Nippur there are no -less than thirty-five feet depth of earlier ruins, which -must extend back to 6000 or 7000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> In early times -stone implements were used alongside of copper and -bronze, as we find in Egypt 4000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> Pottery was -well made, and also reliefs in terra-cotta. Personal -ornaments of engraved gems and gold-work were -common.</p> - -<p>The main landmarks in the later time of this civilization -are the Elamite invasion of Kudur-nan-khundi -(2280 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>) which upset the Semitic rulers, and the -Assyrian invasion of Tiglath-Adar (1270 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>), after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88">88</a></span> -which interest centres in the Assyrian kingdom and its -development of the Mesopotamian culture which it borrowed. -The main buildings of the Assyrian kings -were their enormous palaces, the mass of which was of -unbaked bricks, faced with alabaster slabs; such were -the works of Assurnazir-pal (Nimrud, 880 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>), Sargon -(Khorsabad, 710 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>), Sennacherib and Assurbani-pal -(Kouyunjik, 700 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>). The later, Assyrian, form -of the civilization was to the earlier Chaldean much -what Rome was to Greece, a rather clumsy borrower, -who laboriously preserved the literature and art. Some -of the Assyrian sculpture of animals is, however, perhaps -unsurpassed for vivid action. The systematic -libraries, containing copies of all the older literature for -general study, were most creditable, though the Assyrian -himself composed nothing better than chronicles. Nearly -all that we possess of Babylonian religion, and much of -the history, is in the copies scrupulously made from the -ancient tablets by the Assyrian scribes, who noted every -defect in the original with critical fidelity.</p> - -<p>The Mesopotamian civilization has left its mark on -the modern world. Its religion greatly influenced Hebrew, -and thence Christian, thought, the psalms, for -instance, being a Babylonian form of piety. Its science -fixed the signs of the zodiac, the months of the year, -the days of the week, and the division of the circle -in degrees, all of which are now universal. And its art, -carried by the Phœnicians, was copied by the Greeks -and Etruscans, and thus passed on into modern design.</p> - -<h3>SYRIA</h3> - -<p>The knowledge of Palestine was but slight, and of -northern Syria nothing to speak of, a century ago. -Travellers with some scientific ability, such as Robinson -(1838 and 1852), De Saulcy (1853), and Van de Velde<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89">89</a></span> -(1854), greatly extended our view and led up to the splendid -survey by the Palestine Exploration Fund (1866 -and on), which exhausted the surface study of the land. -The more archæological work of excavation was begun at -Jerusalem (1867–70), and resumed (1892–99) at Lachish, -Jerusalem, etc. The topographical results are all important, -and leave nothing to be done until excavation -can be freely applied; and the small amount of digging -yet done has fixed the varieties of pottery back to 2000 -<span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> and given some early architecture. But the ruins -of Syria, and indeed of Turkey in general, are practically -yet untouched. The discovery (1868) of the inscription -of Mesha, King of Moab (896 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>), opened a new prospect -of research which cannot yet be entered upon. In -the north of Syria nothing has been done except the -German work at Singerli, from which came an Aramean -inscription of about 740 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> And in the south -a large number of early inscriptions of the Arabian -dynasties, reaching back some centuries <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, have -been copied; but there, also, excavation is impossible.</p> - -<p>The main new light from Syria has been on the Hittite -power. Burckhardt, in 1812, had noticed a new kind -of hieroglyph at Hamath. After several ineffective -copies, Wright made casts of the stones in 1872. Several -other such inscriptions have been found, and from these -and the Egyptian and Assyrian references to the Hittites -we now realize that they were a northern people, with -a great capital on the Euphrates, at Karkhemish, and -ruling over nearly all Syria and Asia Minor. Little -has yet been fixed about the writing; a few signs are -read and some have passed into the Cypriote alphabet. -A striking proof of the spread of Babylonian culture -is seen in the tablets found in Egypt at Tel-el-Amarna -in 1887, which show that all the correspondence between -Egypt and Syria in the fifteenth century <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> was carried<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90">90</a></span> -on in cuneiform. These hundreds of letters give -a vivid picture of life in Syria at that early date.</p> - -<h3>GREECE</h3> - -<p>The revival of interest in Greek civilization was at -first purely literary, and remained so during two or -three centuries. But during the last century various -travellers and residents abroad made collections which -awoke an interest in the art; and though most of these -collectors were content with merely showy sculpture, -greatly restored and falsified for the market, yet some—such -as Hamilton—took a real archæological interest in -the unearthing and collecting of ancient art. The condition -of study at the end of the eighteenth century was that -many private men of wealth had bought large quantities -of sculpture which was but little understood, and looked -on more from a decorative than a scientific point of view, -while there were the beginnings of a serious appreciation -of it which had been just laid down by Winckelmann.</p> - -<p>The nineteenth century opened with a grand work of -publishing the principal treasures of classical art in England, -which was finally issued in 1809 by Payne, Knight, -and Townley; this marks the highest point of the dilettante -collecting spirit, which was soon eclipsed by truer -knowledge. Hitherto the best sculpture had hardly been -known but at second hand through Roman copies; a -closer acquaintance began with the travels of Dodwell, -Gell, and Leake, all in the first decade of the century. -The free opening of the British Museum, in 1805, and the -accumulation there of all the best collections within the -first quarter of the century, also served to educate a -public taste. The first struggle of scientific and artistic -knowledge against the dilettante spirit was over the -Elgin marbles; by 1816 they were accepted as the masterpieces -which all later criticism has proved them to be.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91">91</a></span> -The Æginetan and Phigaleian sculptures, brought to -Munich and London, helped also to show the nobility of -early Greek art; so that the last two generations have -had a canon of taste to rely upon, the value of which -cannot be overestimated.</p> - -<p>Following on this noble foundation, other collectors -worked in Greece and Asia Minor, and the British Museum -profited by the labors of Burgon, Fellows, and Woodhouse -between 1840 and 1860. The diplomatically supported -work of Newton on the Mausoleum (1857–58), and -Wood at Ephesus (1863–75), filled out our knowledge of -the middle period of Greek art (350 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>). Comparatively -little has been done since then by England, but -the activity of the Germans at Olympia has given us -the only original masterpiece that is known—the Hermes -of Praxiteles (350 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>), and their work at Pergamon revealed -the great altar belonging to the later age (180 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>). -The excavations at Athens (in 1886) have produced the -impressive statues dedicated to Athene about 520 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, -which reveal the noble rise of Attic sculpture. But attention -during the last quarter-century has been largely -fixed upon the earlier ages. The discoveries of Schliemann -at Hissarlik (Troy, 1870–82), Mycenæ (1876), -Orchomenos (1880–81), and Tiryns (1884), opened a new -world of thought and research. Though at first bitterly -attacked, it is now agreed that these discoveries show us -the civilization of Greece between 2000 and 1000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> -Lastly, during ten years past Egypt has provided the -solid chronology for prehistoric Greece by discoveries of -trade between the two countries.</p> - -<p>We can now very briefly estimate the present position -of our knowledge as gained during the century. Setting -aside the early foreign pottery found in Egypt, which -belongs probably to Greece or Italy at 5000 and 3000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, -we first touch a civilized city in the lowest town of Troy, -where metal was scarcely yet in use, which is certainly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92">92</a></span> -before 2000 and probably about 3000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> in date. -Succeeding that is the finely built second Troy, rich in -gold vases and ornaments, which—though mistaken by -Schliemann for the Homeric Troy—must yet be long before -that, probably before 2000 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> After the burning -of that come three other rebuildings before we reach the -town of the age of Mycenæ, about 1500 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> Of this, -which was in Greece the climax of the prehistoric civilization, -there are the splendid treasures found at Mycenæ, -the magnificent domed tombs, the abundance of fine -jewelry and metal-work, of beautiful pottery and glazed -ornament. To this age belong the great palaces of -Mycenæ, Tiryns, Athens, and other hill fortresses, of -which hardly more than the plans can now be traced. -And it is this civilization which traded eagerly with -Egypt, exchanging the valued manufactures of each -country. This period was at its full bloom from 1500–1200 -<span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, and began to decay by 1100 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, this dating -being given by the contact with Egypt.</p> - -<p>This natural decadence of art in Greece was hastened -by the invasion of the barbarous Dorians about 1000 -<span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> Art, however, was by no means extinguished, -but only repressed by the troubles of the age; and Athens, -which was not conquered by the Dorians, was the -main centre of the revival of the arts. Other examples -of such a history are familiar in Egypt (after the Hyksos -invasion) and in Italy (after the Lombards), where -earlier abilities revive and bloom afresh when vigorous -invaders become united to an artistic stock. After the -centuries of warfare a quieter age allowed the growth of -fine arts again in the seventh century <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, largely influenced -by Egyptian and Assyrian work at second -hand, through the Greek settlements in Cyprus and -Egypt. By 600 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> definite types of sculpture were -started, and a course was begun which only ended in -the fall of classical civilization. The century before<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93">93</a></span> -the Persian invasion, in 480 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, was one of rapid development; -and in sculpture and vase-painting we see that -this century carried forward the arts to technical perfection -and the highest power of expression. Immediately -after the Persian wars came the supreme works of -Pheidias and Myron, most familiar in the Parthenon -and the Discobolus; and in vase-painting comes the reversal -from vases drawn in black on a red ground to the -blocking out of the ground in black, leaving the figure -in red, thus giving far greater scope to the filling in of -finely drawn detail. The civilization of Athens was -also at its height in this age, under Pericles, and the -minor arts received their most refined and perfect treatment. -After this comes nothing but ripening to decay. -It must always be remembered that we have but very -few examples of original work of the great artists. Nearly -all the actual marbles preserved are copies made in -later times, which show little of the delicacy of the original; -and the few original marbles that remain are mostly -of unknown subjects by unknown men. The great work -in Greek archæology during the last fifty years has been -comparing the records of ancient art (in Pliny, Pausanias, -etc.) with the remaining sculptures, critically -assigning the various types of statues to their celebrated -originals, and thus forming some idea of the real history -of Greek art.</p> - -<p>From these studies, full of detail and controversy, -we may briefly sum up the characteristics of the principal -artists and their imitators. At about 440 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> Pheidias -showed in the Parthenon the highest expression of divine -and mythic forms, in a simple and heroic style which -was never equalled. Half a century later Polykleitos -followed a more human expression, using motives (as -in the Doryphoros), but yet portraying an abstract humanity. -By 330 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> Praxiteles brought the expression -of moods to his works, graceful, animated, and with a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94">94</a></span> -full ripeness, as in the Hermes of Olympia, or the Faun. -Skopas, slightly later, marked his work by his great -vigor and strong personality. This was the second -turning-point, when ripeness passed into decay; and in -Lysippos there is mere vivid naturalism and an impressionist -manner without much soul or thought, as -in his Apoxyomenos, about 330 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span> After this mere -triviality and genre subjects are usual, portraiture is -a common aim, and dignity was vainly striven for in -colossal size. The glorification of showing dead and -vanquished enemies is seen in the Dying Gaul and figures -of slain foes at Pergamon. Later on, about 180 -<span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, we see the violent, complicated, and straining action -of the figures around the great altar of Pergamon, -which also appears in the groups of the Laocoon and -Farnese Bull. In the Græco-Roman age a conscious -artificiality took the place of life and expression, as we -see in the Apollo Belvidere, the Venus di Medici, and -the Farnese Hercules. Art was saved in the first century -<span class="smcap smaller">A. D.</span> by the devotion of portraiture, which gave a -sense of reality and conviction which is entirely absent -in the imaginative works. Lastly, a painstaking study -and admiration of earlier works led, under the wealthy -patronage of Hadrian (130 <span class="smcap smaller">A. D.</span>), to an eclectic revival -which was wholly artificial, and passed away within -a generation. We have fixed on sculpture as the most -complete expression of Greek art; in other directions -there is neither enough material nor enough research -to give us a connected view. Not a single town, hardly -a single house, in Greece has been excavated; there is -no consecutive knowledge of the ordinary products and -objects of life; and there is very little recorded of the -discoveries of the tombs. The artistic interest of the -sculpture and architecture has starved other branches -of archæology, and for Greece more remains to be done -than for some less celebrated lands.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95">95</a></span></p> - -<h3>ITALY</h3> - -<p>The interest in Italy at the beginning of the nineteenth -century was mainly for the sake of its second-hand version -of Greek art, and for the architecture and painting -of the Renaissance. On the contrary, now the objects -from Greece itself have far eclipsed the Italian copies, -and the interest lies in the early Italian civilization and -its purely Roman derivatives; while modern taste values -the mediæval art of Italy far from the bastard products -of the florid age which followed. The first detailed -studies in Italy were those on Pompeii, especially by -Gell (1817), which made that debased style very popular, -and paved the way for appreciation of better work. The -various isolated discoveries of Etruscan tombs were -summed up in the admirable work of Dennis (1848), -which presented a general view of that civilization which -has not been superseded. The earlier Italic culture has -been examined in many places where accidental discoveries -have revealed it during the latter half of the nineteenth -century, and especially in the systematic work of -Zannoni, at Bologna (1870–75), and of Orsi, lately, in -Sicily. The history of the city of Rome has been almost -rewritten in the last thirty years owing to the great -changes of the new government; these have been largely -worked by Lanciani, and recorded by him and Middleton. -The view of Italian history at present begins in the Stone -age, which has been well studied, and has links with the -later periods, as in the general use of black pottery. -The earliest metal objects are very simple blades of daggers, -found in graves, mingled with flint arrow-heads -and knives. The admirable Italian plan of preserving -whole burials undisturbed in museums enables us to see -these graves complete in the Kircherian Museum. A -special branch of the early Bronze age life was the system -of lake dwellings (natural or artificially water girt),<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96">96</a></span> -which abound in the northern Italian lakes and over -the plain of Lombardy. These towns (“terra mare”) -are arranged on a rectangular plan, and form the earliest -stage of many of the present cities. The full development -of the Bronze age civilization seems to have been -later than in Greece, at about 800 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, to which belong -the great discoveries of tombs, weapons, and tools at -Bologna, and the cemetery of Falerii.</p> - -<p>Upon all the native Italic civilization came an entirely -different influence from the immigrant Etruscan. Traditionally -coming from Asia Minor, he brought art -and religion which had no relation to the Italic. The -earliest Etruscan paintings are strongly northern in -style, influenced by north European feeling (Veii). But -soon the Etruscan borrowed largely from other races, -from the Greek mainly, but also from Assyria and Egypt. -Thus the fascinating problem in Italy is to distinguish -the various sources of Italic, Etruscan, Græco-Etruscan, -Oriental-Etruscan, and pure Greek, which are found in -all degrees of combination before Roman times, and -which can still be traced through the Roman age. The -characteristics of Etruscan taste are: (1) The extraneous -objects and figures, such as rows of pendants to a metal -vase, monstrous heads standing out from a bowl, and -statuettes placed for handles; (2) in forms of vases and -furniture, the combination of many different parts and -curves which never form a whole design; (3) and in -sculpture the large round head and staring eyes. In -general, an air of clumsy adaptation by a race deficient in -originality. The glory of the Etruscan was his engineering, -which he handed as a legacy to Rome. Strange -to say, although thousands of Etruscan inscriptions -are known, and many words are translated, yet the language -is sealed to us, and none of the many attempts -to read it has succeeded. The scientific study of Etruscan -tombs has been well followed lately, as shown in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97">97</a></span> -the Florence Museum, where a separate room is devoted -to each city.</p> - -<p>In the south of Italy Greek art prevailed, and many -of the finest works belong to this civilization. The -Greek in Italy had rather different ideals to those of -Greece; he started more from the level of Polykleitos and -Praxiteles than from the severe age; his favorite type is -that of youth and adolescence, never of maturity. The -grace and feeling of such bronze statues as the Hermes -and so-called Sappho of Herculaneum are peculiar to -southern Italy. And when the Greek artist penetrated -north and allied himself with the mechanical skill of -the Etruscan, such splendid work was done as the Orator -of Sanguineto.</p> - -<p>Rome in the earlier centuries was an Italic town which -came under Etruscan influence as Tuscany was conquered. -But from the age of foreign conquest in the -first century <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>, Greek art in a debased form ruled over -all else, and ran into utter degradation in the third century -<span class="smcap smaller">A. D.</span> It was this art that the power of Rome spread -around the whole Mediterranean, from Palmyra to Britain, -and is the parent of most modern decoration. But -in the great reconstruction of the empire under Diocletian -the debased Greek taste was mostly shaken off, and -Rome went back to the old Italic-Etruscan style and motives. -The statues have the round heads and staring -eyes of old Etruria; the taste for quaint accessories, -such as lions supporting objects, came back and passed -into mediæval art, and the exaggerated, lengthy forms -of men and animals reappeared.</p> - -<p>Of the Christian period De Rossi’s work in the catacombs -has given a firm base of facts for the third to the -sixth century <span class="smcap smaller">A. D.</span>, the actual tomb and body of Saint -Cecilia being the most striking result. The later Roman -and mediæval age in Italy is full of interest, but -in that—as in the rest of mediæval Europe—research<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98">98</a></span> -has been mainly on architecture and objects which -are not the result of excavation.</p> - -<h3>INDIA</h3> - -<p>The Hindus have never been chronologists or historians, -and their great Sanskrit literature tells practically nothing -about the rise of Buddhism, the invasion of Alexander, -or the spread of civilization in Indo-China. All before -the Islamic conquest in the tenth century <span class="smcap smaller">A. D.</span> is in a -mist of Puranic mythology. Here, then, more than in -other countries, archæology has restored the history, -and done so entirely within the nineteenth century.</p> - -<p>The existence of Sanskrit literature was revealed to -the West by Sir William Jones at the end of the last century, -and this gave scope to Oriental scholars, while antiquities -only interested the collector. But serious exploration -was led by Prinsep, whose decipherment of -the Asoka inscriptions in 1837, which ranks with the -achievements of Champollion and Rawlinson, gave the -key to a mass of inscriptions.</p> - -<p>His assistant, Cunningham, excavated many sites -and collected coins, being head of the Archæological Survey -from 1861 to 1885. Fergusson was the historian of -Indian architecture; Burgess has published the cave-temples -in west and south India; Sewell in Madras and -Führer in the northwest have excavated and explored, -and a few native pundits have been educated to such research. -The government, in financial difficulty, has -withdrawn from the work, but the congress of Orientalists -in 1897 resolved to establish an Indian exploration -fund.</p> - -<p>Inscriptions abound in India, on copper plate, stone -pillars, and native rock. Those in Sanskrit, or modern -vernaculars, are records of land grants or local -dynasties. The oldest—in two different alphabets (of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99">99</a></span> -Semitic origin)—are the famous edicts of Asoka (third -century <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>), who has been called The Buddhist Constantine. -He placed these monuments of his power and -religion around his frontiers of northern India; but their -meaning was forgotten until Prinsep’s decipherment. -The Hindus seem to have a coinage of stamped silver -plate before Alexander; but regular coinage begins in -the Bactrian kingdoms (200 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>–200 <span class="smcap smaller">A. D.</span>), with Greek -and native inscriptions. Since then the coinage is continuous, -and invaluable for history. No stone building -or sculpture is older than Alexander (327 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>), or certainly -earlier than Asoka (264–233 <span class="smcap smaller">B. C.</span>). Greek influence -is plain in the Punjab, but native style is seen in -the cave-temples. The richest results have been from -the mounds, some of which are ruins of forts or palaces, -but the more important are the <em>stupas</em>, lofty domes erected -two to one thousand years ago to enshrine Buddhist -relics. These domes are surrounded with sculptured -reliefs of scenes in the life of Buddha, and are often dated -by inscriptions. From one lately opened the Buddha -relic has been sent to the King of Siam, the only Buddhist -king. Much has been done by the government in publishing -and providing casts and photographs; but India -yet needs a scientific archæologist to record details with -the accuracy demanded by modern research.</p> - -<h3>AMERICA</h3> - -<p>Archæological work in the United States and in Central -America was begun by Squier about the middle of the -century, and the attention thus drawn to the subject has -borne fruit in the more accurate and scientific explorations -connected with the surveying and geological departments, -and, above all, those of the Smithsonian -Bureau of Ethnology. The names of Whitney, Wright, -Cyrus Thomas, Holmes, Fowke, Mindeleff, and others,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100">100</a></span> -will be familiar to all American readers by their work -of the last twenty years, and need no introducing here.</p> - -<p>The earliest remains of man in America—or perhaps -in the world—are those beneath the great lava beds of -California; since those were deposited the rivers have -cut their beds through two thousand to four thousand -feet of lava rock, implying an erosion during tens, or -perhaps hundreds, of thousands of years. But little -can be assigned, however, with any certainty to a date -before the Christian era, though mounds of refuse on -both ocean shores may probably belong to an age before -any human history.</p> - -<p>The most important studies have been those on the -highest civilization of the continent, that of Central -America. The destroying Spaniards preserved but little -of native record, except incidentally, and the first collector -of Aztec manuscripts was Benaduci (1736), of -whose treasures but an eighth survived his imprisonments -and persecutions, one of the greatest disasters -to history. The first great publication of manuscripts -was the magnificent work of Lord Kingsborough (1830); -and almost at the same time appeared Prescott’s history. -Though the later researches have shown that -the land was divided into many small kingdoms, rather -than under one power, as Prescott supposed, yet his account -of the calendar and chronology of the Aztecs -has been verified and added to, and far more has been -done in reading the manuscripts than he supposed possible. -Aubin, after years of work in Mexico, brought -to Europe manuscripts of an entirely new kind, showing -a fully developed system of phonetic writing, which -he has largely deciphered with success, having analyzed -over one hundred syllabic values correctly.</p> - -<p>One of the most complete studies has been that of -the Mayan Quiché peoples, and especially of the Mayans -of Yucatan. In 1864 Landa’s work on Yucatan (written<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101">101</a></span> -1566) was rediscovered, and the account of the calendar -has sufficed to enable Goodman to discover the meaning -of a very large number of signs (1897); these enable -the numerical documents to be translated, and show that -a period of as much as eight thousand years was dealt -with by the Mayans, perhaps belonging to mythical ages. -The alphabetic signs of Landa have proved useless so -far, and Goodman even disbelieves in any record except -that of numbers. Seler has shown the identical origin -of the signs used by Aztecs and Mayans for the days -and months. Little had been done to make known -these remains until the recent explorations, casts, and -publications of Maudsley, who has worked magnificently -for seventeen years at Copan, Palenque, and -Chichen-Itza; these, however, are but three of innumerable -cities of Guatemala and Yucatan that need -exploration.</p> - -<p>In New Mexico the many ruins from the Colorado -to the Rio Grande have been proved to resemble those -of the modern Pueblo Indians, and to have none of the -characteristics of Central American architecture; there -are no sculptures, and the rock inscriptions are too primitive -to be interpreted. Nothing points to an Aztec occupation, -and probably the ancestors of the present -people were the builders.</p> - -<p>The innumerable earthworks of the Mississippi valley -were formerly supposed to belong to some vanished -race. And the view that they were connected with the -Central American civilization is favored by the pyramid -mound, which was hardly known otherwise, and by -the excellence of the minor sculpture. But there are -great differences between the two civilizations. The -mound-builders were far inferior in metal-working, and -their burial customs are peculiar. The use of materials -from both east and west coasts shows an extensive commerce. -The best summing up of the researches is that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102">102</a></span> -by Prof. Cyrus Thomas, after his extensive excavations. -He concludes that the remains of the mound-builders -show no great antiquity; that they were formed -by tribes like the existing Indians; that the builders -were of the same culture as were the Indians when discovered; -that such mounds continued to be made and used -for burial during the European period, and that the -principal builders were the Cherokees.</p> - -<p>It will be seen now how totally our view of man’s -history has been changed by the study of archæology, -and how fundamentally this science affects our ideas -of the past and our expectations for the future of our -race. The main outlines have been dimly seen; but in -every country the greater part yet remains to be done, -and in Turkey, Persia, and China most important civilizations -are as yet quite untouched by exploration. The -new century will no doubt see a harvest from these -lands; and it is to be hoped that what yet remains in -the safe keeping of the earth may be found by able men, -who will preserve it for instruction and enable posterity -to trace the fortunes of our species.</p> - -<p>[India and America are here treated with the assistance -of Mr. J. S. Cotton and Mr. D. MacIver.]</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">W. M. Flinders Petrie.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105">105</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="ASTRONOMY"></a>ASTRONOMY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">In</span> looking back over a century’s work in the oldest of -the sciences, one is struck not only by the enormous -advance that has been made in those branches of the -science dealing with the motions of the heavenly bodies -which were cultivated at least eight thousand years ago -by early dwellers in the valleys of the Nile, Tigris, and -Euphrates, but with the fact that during the century that -has just passed away a perfectly new science of astronomy -arose. By annexing physics and chemistry astronomers -now study the motions of the particles of which all -celestial bodies are composed; a new molecular astronomy -has now been firmly established side by side with -the old molar astronomy which formerly alone occupied -the thoughts of star-gazers.</p> - -<p>Along this new line our knowledge has advanced -by leaps and bounds, and the results already obtained -in expanding and perfecting man’s views of nature in -all her beauty and immensity are second to none which -have been garnered during the last hundred years.</p> - -<h3>THE POSITION AT THE BEGINNING OF THE CENTURY</h3> - -<p>It may be well before attempting to obtain a glimpse -of recent progress that we should try to grasp the state -of the science at the time when the nineteenth century -was about to dawn, and this, perhaps, can be best accomplished -by seeing what men were working at this -period, at which the greatest activity was to be found<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106">106</a></span> -in Germany; there was no permanent observatory in -the southern hemisphere or in the United States.</p> - -<p>First and foremost among the workers—he has, in -fact, been described as “the greatest of modern astronomers”—was -William Herschel, a German domiciled in -England. In the year 1773 he hired a telescope, and -with this small instrument he obtained his first glimpses -of the rich fields of exploration open in the skies. From -that time onward he had one fixed purpose in his mind, -which was to obtain as intimate knowledge as possible -of the construction of the heavens.</p> - -<p>To do this, of course, great optical power was necessary, -and such was his energy that, as large instruments -were not to be obtained at any price, he set to work and -made them himself.</p> - -<p>Herschel presented the beginning of the nineteenth -century not only with a definite idea of the constitution -of the stellar system, based on a connected body of facts -and deductions from facts, as gleaned through his telescopes, -but observations without number in many fields. -He discovered a new planet, Uranus, and several satellites -of the planets; published catalogues of nebulæ; -established the gravitational bond between many “double -stars,” and carried on observations of the sun, then supposed -to be a habitable globe. What Herschel did for -observational astronomy and deductions therefrom, Laplace -did for the furtherance of our knowledge concerning -the exact motions of the bodies comprising the solar -system. Newton had long before announced that gravitation -was universal, and Laplace brought together investigations -undertaken to determine the validity of -this law. These were given to the world in his wonderful -book on <cite>Celestial Mechanics</cite>, the first volumes of which -appeared in 1799.</p> - -<p>A survey of the work of these two great astronomers -gives one an idea of what was going on in observational<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107">107</a></span> -and mathematical astronomy at the beginning of the -century.</p> - -<p>The study was now destined to make rapid strides, -as not only were new optical instruments—some designed -for special purposes—introduced, new mathematical -processes applied, fresh fields for research opened -up, but the number of workers was considerably augmented -by the increased means available; so much so, -indeed, that the first astronomical periodical was founded -by Von Zach in 1800 to facilitate intercommunications -between the observers.</p> - -<p>The first evening of the nineteenth century (January -1, 1801) augured well for progress. It had long been -thought that all the members of the solar system had -not as yet been discovered, and there was a very notable -gap between the planets Mars and Jupiter, indicated by -Bode’s law. Observers were organized to make a thorough -search for the missing planet, portions of the sky -being divided between them for minute examination. -It fell to the Italian observer, Piazzi, to discover a small -body which was moving in an orbit between these two -planets on the date named. The century thus began -with a sensation, and because the new body, which was -named “Ceres,” was not of sufficient size to be accepted -as the “missing planet,” the idea was suggested that -perhaps it was a fragment of a larger planet that had -been blown to pieces in the past.</p> - -<p>An opportunity here arose for mathematical astronomy -to come to the help of the observer, for Ceres soon -was lost in the solar rays, and in order to rediscover -it, after it had passed conjunction, an approximate -knowledge of its path and future position was necessary.</p> - -<p>With the then existing methods of computation of -orbits it was imperative to have numerous measured -positions to use as data for the calculation. The scanty<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108">108</a></span> -data available in the case of Ceres were not sufficient for -the application of the method. The occasion discovered -a man, one of the greatest mathematicians of the nineteenth -century, Karl Frederick Gauss, who, although -only twenty-five years of age, undertook the solution of -the problem by employing a system which he had devised, -known as “the method of least squares,” which -enabled him to obtain a most probable result from a given -set of observations.</p> - -<p>This, with a more general method of orbit computation, -also elaborated by himself, was sufficient to enable -him to calculate future positions of Ceres, and on the anniversary -of the original discovery, Olbers, another great -pioneer in orbit calculations, found the planet in very -nearly the position assigned by Gauss. So great was -the curiosity regarding the other portions of the planet, -which was supposed to have been shattered, that numerous -observers at once commenced to search after -other fragments.</p> - -<p>These were the <em>actualities</em> of 1801 and thereabouts; -but the seed of much future work was sown. Kant and -Laplace had already occupied themselves with theories -as to the world formation, and spectrum analysis as applied -to the heavenly bodies may be said to have been -started by Wollaston’s observations of dark lines in the -solar spectrum in 1802. Fraunhofer was then a boy at -school. In the same year the first photographic prints -were produced by Wedgewood and Davy.</p> - -<h3>OBSERVATORIES</h3> - -<p>It has been stated that at the beginning of the century -there were no permanent observatories either in the -southern hemisphere or in the United States. The end -of the century finds us with two hundred observatories -all told, of which fourteen are south of the equator and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109">109</a></span> -forty-seven in the United States, among which latter are -the best-equipped and most active in the world.</p> - -<p>The observatory of Parramatta was the first established -(1821) in the southern hemisphere. This was -followed by that at the Cape of Good Hope in 1829. Of -the more modern southern observatories from which the -best work has come we may mention Cordova, the seat -of Gould’s important investigations, established in 1868, -and Arequipa, a dependency of Harvard, whence the -spectra of the southern stars have been secured, erected -still more recently (1881).</p> - -<p>I believe, but I do not know, that the large number of -American observatories have radiated from Cincinnati, -where, in consequence of eloquent appeals, both by voice -and pen, from Mitchell, then professor of astronomy, -an observatory was commenced in 1845. There can be -no doubt that at the present moment, with the numerous -well-equipped and active observatories, and the careful -and thorough teaching established side by side with -them, which enables numberless students to use the -various instruments, the United States, in matters astronomical, -fills the position occupied by Germany at the -beginning of the century.</p> - -<p>In Europe special observatories have been established -at Meudon, Kensington, and Potsdam, so that new astrophysical -inquiries may be undertaken without interfering -with the prosecution or extension of the important -meridional work carried on at Paris, Greenwich, and -Berlin. A large proportion of the observations made -by the Lick and Yerkes observatories in the United -States has been astrophysical.</p> - -<p>One of the special inquiries committed to the charge -of the Solar Physics Observatory at Kensington at its -establishment by the British government had relation to -the possibility of running home meteorological changes -on the earth, especially those followed by drought and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110">110</a></span> -famines in various parts of the empire, to the varying -changes in the sun indicated by the ebb and flow of spots -on its surface. With this end in view observations of -the sun were commenced in India and the Mauritius to -supplement those taken at Greenwich. At the same -time other daily observations of sun spots by a different -method were commenced at Kensington.</p> - -<p>This kind of work was at first considered ideally useless; -we shall see later on what has become of it.</p> - -<h3>IMPROVEMENTS IN TELESCOPES</h3> - -<p>The progress in astronomical science throughout the -nineteenth century has naturally to a great extent depended -upon the advances made both in the optics of the -telescope and the way in which they are mounted, either -with circles to record exact times and positions, or made -to move so as to keep a star or other celestial objects in -the field of view while under observation. The perfection -of definition and the magnitude of the lenses employed -in the modern instrument have been responsible for -many important discoveries.</p> - -<p>Ever since the telescope was invented—Galileo’s lens -was smaller than those used in spectacles—men’s minds -have been concentrated on producing instruments of -larger and larger size to fathom the cosmos to its innermost -depths.</p> - -<p>At the beginning of the century we were, as we have -seen already, in possession of reflectors of large dimensions; -Herschel’s four-foot mirror, the instrument he was -using in 1801, which had a focal length of forty feet, -was capable of being employed with high magnifying -powers; and it was the judicious use of these, on occasions -when the finest of weather prevailed, that enabled -him to enrich so extensively our knowledge of the stellar -and planetary systems. For the ordinary work of astronomy,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111">111</a></span> -however, especially when circles are used, -refractors are the more suitable instruments. This -form suffers less from the vicissitudes of weather and -temperature, and is, therefore, more suited where exact -measurements are required.</p> - -<p>Towards the end of the eighteenth century a Swiss -artisan, Pierre Guinard, after many years of patient -labor, succeeded in producing pure disks of flint glass -as large as six inches in diameter. The modern refracting -telescope thus became possible.</p> - -<p>In 1804 there was started at Munich the famous optical -and mechanical institute, which soon made its presence -felt in the astronomical world. Reforms in instrument -making were soon taken in hand, and under the leadership -of the great German astronomer, Bessel, great -strides were made in instruments of precision. Fraunhofer, -who had been silently working away at the theory -of lenses, and making various experiments in the manufacture -of glass, was joined, in 1805, by Guinard. In -1809 Troughton invented a new method of graduating -circles, according to Airy the greatest improvement ever -achieved in the art of instrument making.</p> - -<p>In 1824 Fraunhofer successfully completed and perfected -an object-glass of 9.9 inches in diameter for the -Dorpat Observatory. This objective might literally -have been called a “giant,” for nothing approaching -it in size had been previously made.</p> - -<p>England, which was at one time the exclusive seat -of the manufacture of refracting telescopes, was now -completely outstripped by both Germany and France, -and for this we had to thank “the short-sighted policy -of the government, which had placed an exorbitant -duty on the manufacture of flint glass.” In 1833 the -Dorpat refractor was eclipsed by one of fifteen inches -aperture made for the Pulkowa Observatory by Merz -& Mähler, Fraunhofer’s successors, who about ten years<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112">112</a></span> -later supplied a similar instrument to Harvard College. -At that time Lord Rosse emulated with success the efforts -of Herschel and rehabilitated the reflector by producing -a metallic mirror of six-foot aperture and fifty-four-foot -focal length which he mounted at Parsonstown. -The speculum weighed no less than four tons. To -mount this immense mass efficiently and safely was a -work of no light nature, but he successfully accomplished -it, and eventually both mirror and the telescope, -which weighed now altogether fourteen tons, were so -well counterpoised that they could be easily moved in -a limited direction by means of a windlass worked by -two men. The perfection of the “seeing” qualities of -this instrument and its enormous light-grasping powers -were particularly striking, and observational astronomy -was considerably enriched by the discoveries made with it.</p> - -<p>Speculum metal was not destined to stay; ten years -later (1857) the genius of Léon Foucault introduced -glass mirrors with a thin coating of silver deposited chemically, -and these have now universally superseded the -metallic ones.</p> - -<p>The long supremacy of Germany in the matter of -refractors was broken down ultimately by the famous -English optician and engineer, Thomas Cooke, of York. -His first considerable instrument, one of seven inches -aperture, was finished in 1851; and in 1865, a year before -his lamented death, he completed the first of our present -giant refractors, one of twenty-five inches aperture, for -Mr. Newall, of Gateshead. In consequence of the success -of Cooke’s achievement other large refractors were -soon undertaken.</p> - -<p>Alvan Clarke, the famous optician of Cambridgeport, -Massachusetts, at once commenced a twenty-six-inch -for the Washington Observatory. The next was one of -twenty-seven inches, made by Grubb for the Vienna -Observatory. Object-glasses now grew inch by inch in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113">113</a></span> -size, depending on the increased dimensions of disks that -could be satisfactorily cast. Gautier, of Paris, completed -a twenty-nine-and-a-half-inch for the Nice Observatory, -while Alvan Clarke made an objective of thirty inches -for Pulkowa. In 1877 the latter successfully completed -the mounting of an objective of thirty-six inches for -the Lick Observatory, but this immense lens was only -achieved after a great number of failures. Even this -large object-glass was surpassed in size by the completion -in 1892 of the forty-inch which he made for the -Yerkes Observatory, and by that made by Gautier for -the Paris Exhibition of 1900.</p> - -<p>So much, then, for the largest refractors. In recent -years, since the introduction of the silver on glass mirrors, -with their stability of figure and brilliant surface, -which can be easily renewed, reflectors of large apertures -are again being produced. The first of these was one -of thirty-six inches aperture made by Calver for Dr. -Common, who demonstrated its fine qualities and his -own skill by the beautiful photographs of the nebula -of Orion he was enabled to secure with it. Dr. Common -himself has since turned his attention to the making -and silvering of large mirrors of this kind, and the largest -he has actually completed and mounted equatorially -is one with a diameter of five feet. Another of thirty-six -inches aperture is in use at the Solar Physics Observatory -at Kensington.</p> - -<p>The progress of depositing silver on glass has led -of late years to important developments in which <em>plane</em> -mirrors are used. Foucault was the first to utilize such -mirrors in his “siderostat,” in which such a mirror is -made to move in front of a horizontal fixed telescope, -which may be of any focal length, and no expensive -dome or rising floor is required. The plane mirror of -the siderostat in the Paris Exhibition telescope is six -feet in diameter.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114">114</a></span> -A variation of this instrument is the cœlostat more -recently advocated by Lippmann. The Coudé equatorial -mounting also depends upon the use of plane mirrors; -with such a telescope the observer is at rest at a -fixed eye-piece or camera in a room which may be kept -at any temperature.</p> - -<p>Now that in astronomical work eye observations are -indispensably supplemented by the employment of -photography, an important modification of the refracting -telescope has become necessary; this was first suggested -by Rutherfurd.</p> - -<p>The ordinary achromatic object-glass consists, as a -rule, of two lenses, one made of flint and the other of -crown glass; but in this form the photographic rays are -not brought to the same focus as the visual rays. This, -however, can be achieved by employing three lenses -instead of two, each of different kinds of glass. The -most modern improvement in the telescope is due to Mr. -Dennis Taylor, of Cooke & Sons, and to Dr. Schott and -Professor Abbe, whose researches in the manufacture -of old and new varieties of optical glass have rendered -Mr. Taylor’s results feasible. By the Taylor lens outstanding -color is abolished, all the rays being brought -absolutely to the same focus; such lenses can therefore -be used either for visual observations or for photography -for spectroscopy.</p> - -<h3>SPECTROSCOPIC ASTRONOMY</h3> - -<p>The branch of physics which at the present day has -assumed such mighty and far-reaching proportions in -astronomical work is that dealing with spectrum analysis, -which, although suggested as early as the time of Kepler, -did not receive any impetus as regards its application to -celestial bodies until the beginning of the present century -at the hands of Wollaston and Fraunhofer. Then,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115">115</a></span> -however, it still lacked the chemical touch supplied afterwards -by Kirchhoff and Bunsen. They showed us that -the spectrum observed when the light from any heated -body is passed through a prism is an index to the -chemical composition of the light source; the constitution -of a vapor when in a condition to absorb light -can be determined by an extension of the same principle, -first demonstrated by Stokes, Angström, and Balfour -Stewart, when the century was about half completed.</p> - -<p>The first celestial body towards which the spectroscope -was turned was our central luminary, the sun.</p> - -<p>Wollaston first discovered that its spectrum was crossed -by a few dark lines; we learned next from Fraunhofer, -who in 1814 worked with instruments of greater power, -that the solar spectrum was crossed not only by a few dark -lines, but by some hundreds. Not content with examining -the light of the sun, Fraunhofer turned his instrument -towards the stars, the light of which he also examined, -so that he may be justly called the inventor of stellar -spectrum analysis. It is not to the credit of modern -science that from this time forward spectrum analysis -did not become a recognized branch of scientific inquiry, -but, as a matter of fact, Fraunhofer’s observations were -buried in oblivion for nearly half a century. The importance -of them was not recognized till the origin of -the dark lines, both in sun and stars, had been explained -by Stokes and others, as before stated. The lines in -the solar spectrum were mapped with great diligence by -Kirchhoff in 1861 and 1862, and later by Angström and -Thalen, and this was done side by side with chemical -work in the laboratory. The chemistry of the sun was -thus to a great extent revealed; it was no longer a habitable -globe, but one with its visible boundary at a fierce -heat, surrounded by an atmosphere of metallic vapors, -chief among them iron, also in a state of incandescence.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116">116</a></span> -To these metallic vapors Angström added hydrogen -shortly afterwards.</p> - -<p>Here, then, was established a firm link between the -heavens and the earth; the first step to the problem of -the chemistry of space had been taken.</p> - -<p>It was only natural that as advances were made the -instrumental equipment should keep pace with them. -Spectroscopes were built on a larger scale; more prisms, -which meant greater dispersion, were employed to render -the measurements of the lines in spectra more accurate. -The growth of our knowledge especially necessitated -the making of maps of the lines in the solar spectrum, -and in the spectra of the chemical elements which had -been compared with it on a natural scale. This was done -by Angström, who utilized for this purpose the diffraction -grating invented by Fraunhofer, and defined the position -of all lines in spectra by their “wave lengths,” in ten-millionths -of a millimetre or “tenth-metres.”</p> - -<p>In 1862 Rutherfurd extended Fraunhofer’s work on -the stars by a first attempt at classification. Two years -later Huggins and Miller produced maps of the spectra -of some stars. Donati demonstrated that comets gave -radiation spectra, and Huggins did the same for nebulæ.</p> - -<p>By these observations comets and nebulæ were shown -to be spectroscopically different from stars, which at that -time were studied by their dark lines only.</p> - -<p>Chiefly by the labors of Pickering, the energetic head of -the Harvard Observatory, science has been enriched -during the later years by observations of thousands of -stellar spectra, the study of which has brought about the -most marvellous advance in our knowledge.</p> - -<p>These priceless data have enabled us now to classify -the stars not only by their brightness, or their color, but -by their chemistry.</p> - -<p>Next to be chronicled is the application of the so-called -Doppler-Fizeau principle, which teaches us that when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117">117</a></span> -a light source is approaching or receding from us the -light waves are crushed together or drawn out, so that -the wave length is changed. The amount of change -gives us the velocity of approach or recess, so that the -rate of movement of stars towards or from the earth, or -the up-rush or down-rush of the solar vapors on the sun’s -disk can be accurately determined. A further utilization -of this principle is found when the stars are so close together -that they appear as one if the plane of motion -passes near the earth. A line common to the spectra of -both stars will appear double twice in each revolution, -when the motion to or from the earth, or, as it is termed, -“in the line of sight,” is greatest. “Spectroscopic -doubles,” as these stars are called, yield up many of their -secrets which otherwise would elude us. Their time of -revolution, the size of the orbit, and the combined mass -can be determined.</p> - -<p>To return from the stars to the sun.</p> - -<p>By the device of throwing an image of the sun on the -slit of the spectroscope the spectra of solar spots have -been studied from 1866 onward, and a little later the -brighter portions of the sun’s outer envelopes, revealed -till then only during eclipses, were brought within our -ken spectroscopically, so that they are now studied -every day.</p> - -<h3>CELESTIAL PHOTOGRAPHY</h3> - -<p>Wedgewood and Davy, in 1802, made prints on paper by -means of silver salts, but it was not until 1830 that Niepce -and Daguerre founded photography, which Arago, in an -address to the French Chamber, at once suggested might -subsequently be used to record the positions of stars.</p> - -<p>In 1839 we find Sir John Herschel carrying out a series -of experiments so important for our correct knowledge -of the sequence of steps in the early stages of photography -that I have no hesitation in quoting from one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118">118</a></span> -of Herschel’s manuscripts relating to a deposit on a glass -plate of “muriate” [chloride] of silver from a mixed solution -of the nitrate with common salt. The manuscript -states: “After forty-eight hours [the chloride] had formed -a film firm enough to bear draining the water off very -slowly by a siphon. Having dried it, I found that it was -very little affected by light, and by washing it with nitrate -of silver, weak, and drying it, it became highly -sensitive. In this state I took a camera picture of the -telescope on it.”</p> - -<p>The original of the above-mentioned photograph, the -first photograph ever taken on glass, is now in the science -collection at the Victoria and Albert Museum, South -Kensington.</p> - -<p>In the early days of photography colored glasses -were first used to investigate the action of different colors -on the photographic plate. Sir John Herschel was -among the first to propose that such investigations -should be made direct with a spectrum, and he, like Dr. -J. W. Draper, stated that he had found a new kind of -light beyond the blue end of the spectrum, as the photographic -plate showed a portion of the spectrum there -which was not visible to the eye. Advance followed -advance, and in 1842 Becquerel photographed the whole -solar spectrum, in colors, with nearly all the lines registered -by the hand and eye of Fraunhofer, not only -the blue end, but the complete spectrum, from Draper’s -“latent light,” as he called the ultra-violet rays, to the -extreme red end.</p> - -<p>The first photograph of a celestial object was one of -the moon, secured by Dr. J. W. Draper in 1840; we had -to wait till 1845, so far as I know, before a daguerreotype -was taken of the sun; this was done by Foucault and -Fizeau, while the first photograph of a star—Vega—was -taken at Harvard in 1850. After the introduction -of the wet-collodion process regular photography of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119">119</a></span> -the sun’s surface was commenced, at Sir John Herschel’s -recommendation, at Kew in 1858, and the total solar -eclipse of 1860 was made memorable by the photographs -of De La Rue, who before that time had secured most -admirable photographs of the moon, as also had Rutherfurd.</p> - -<p>Photography now began to pay the debt she owed -to spectrum analysis.</p> - -<p>The first laboratory photograph of the spectra of the -chemical elements was taken by Dr. W. A. Miller in 1862.</p> - -<p>Rutherfurd was the first to secure a photograph of -the solar spectrum with considerable dispersion by -means of prisms.</p> - -<p>In 1863 Mascart undertook a complete photographic -investigation of the ultra-violet portion of the solar spectrum, -a work of no mean magnitude. He, however, -did not employ a train of prisms for producing the -spectrum, but a diffraction grating, using the light reflected -from the first surface. The first photograph -of the spectrum of a star was secured by Henry Draper, -the son of Dr. J. W. Draper, one of the pioneers in photography -in 1872.</p> - -<p>It was not till the introduction of dry plates in 1876 -that the photography of the fainter celestial objects or -of their spectra was possible, as a long exposure was -naturally required. Stellar spectra were photographed -by Huggins in 1879, and in the next year Draper photographed -the nebula of Orion. As the dry plates became -more rapid, and as longer exposures were employed, -revelation followed revelation; the nebulæ as seen by -the naked eye, and even some stars, were found by the -Henrys, Roberts, Max Wolf, Barnard, and others, to be -but the brighter kernels of large nebulous patches.</p> - -<p>This new application of photography, depending -upon long exposures (the longest one I know of has -extended to forty hours), had an important reflex action<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120">120</a></span> -on the mechanical parts of the telescope; it was not only -necessary to keep the faintest star exactly on the same -part of the plate during the whole of the exposure, but -night after night the stellar image must be brought -on to the same part of the plate so that the exposure -might be continued.</p> - -<p>A system of electric control of the going of the driving-clock -of the telescope by means of a sidereal clock was -introduced, the simplest one being designed by Russell, -of Sydney; a most elaborate one by Grubb, of Dublin.</p> - -<p>Another application of the method of long exposures -has been the discovery of minor planets by the trails -impressed by their motion among the stars on the photographic -plates on which the images of both are impressed.</p> - -<p>A complete spectroscopic survey of the stars by means -of photography was commenced in 1886 at Harvard -College, as a memorial to Draper, who died while he was -laboring diligently and successfully in securing advances -in astrophysical inquiries. To carry on this work at -Harvard, Professor Pickering wisely reverted to the -method first employed by Fraunhofer, and utilized by -Respighi and another in 1871, of placing prisms in front -of the object-glass.</p> - -<p>In the photographing of stellar spectra by means -of objective prisms, the driving-clock of the telescope -must <em>not</em> go exactly at sidereal rate, but at certain speeds -depending on the brightness and position of the star -under examination.</p> - -<p>This is necessary because the image of the spectrum -of a star on the photograph is only a thin line in which -it is impossible to see the spectral lines; the spectrum -must be broadened, and this is accomplished by making -the star image “trail” to a certain degree on the plate. -This trailing is accomplished by means of the clock, -the rate of which is made to vary. In this way the trail<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121">121</a></span> -of a spectrum of a star on the photographic plate is always -obtained of the same width, while the density of the image -is made fairly constant by increasing the rate for bright -stars and decreasing it for fainter ones. In this way -spectra of the brighter stars rivalling in perfection and -detail those obtained of the spectrum of the sun itself -thirty years ago have been obtained. Such photographs -have rendered a minute chemical classification of the -stars possible.</p> - -<p>One of the most interesting applications of photography -to spectrum analysis during the latter part of the century -has been the utilization by Messrs. Deslandres -and Hale of a suggestion made by Janssen, that by -employing photography images of the sun and its surroundings -can be obtained in light on one wave length. -In this way we can study the distribution of any one of -the chemical constituents of the sun separately, and -note its behavior, not only on the sun itself, but in the -atmosphere which enfolds the disk.</p> - -<p>It is strange that, in spite of the suggestions of Faye, -and others after him, one of the great advantages of -the employment of photography in astronomical work, -namely, the abolition of “personal equation,” has so far -been almost entirely neglected. What “personal equation” -is can be perhaps illustrated by considering an -observer who is observing the transit of a star over the -wires in a transit instrument.</p> - -<p>His object is to note the exact time, to a fraction of -a second, when a star passes each wire; and this is done -by listening to the beats of a clock near at hand and estimating -the fractions. Some observers constantly note -the time either a little in advance or a little later than -the actual time, and this small distance between the -observer and the true times is more or less constant for -each observer. This difference has to be taken into account -for every observation. Even the use of the chronograph<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122">122</a></span> -in transit work, by which the observation is -electrically recorded, does not entirely eliminate the -error. The photographic method of transit work has -been experimented on, but, so far as I know, it has not -yet been used at more than one or two observatories. -It will doubtless eventually rid us of “personal equation” -entirely, for the star image may be photographed -and the time recorded by the same current of electricity.</p> - -<p>At the end of the century we could almost say that -except in relation to the work of the meridional observatories, -photographic methods of recording observations -had become exclusively used. One of the cases -in which its utility is most in evidence is in the matter -of eclipse observations. Spectra of the sun’s surroundings -containing a thousand lines are taken in a second -of time, thus replacing five or six doubtful eye observations -by wealth of results which have enabled the recent -vast progress to be secured.</p> - -<h3>CATALOGUES</h3> - -<p>Catalogues of the stars were among the first scientific -records started by man, and so long as only the naked -eye was used the work was not difficult, as only approximate -positions were attempted, even by Hipparchus; -but long before the eighteenth century dawned the problem -was entirely changed by the invention of the telescope -and by the provision of accurately divided circles; -not only could better positions be recorded, but the number -of stars to be catalogued was enormously increased, -and, furthermore, other objects, nebulæ, presented themselves -in considerable numbers.</p> - -<p>In 1801 the star catalogues chiefly relied on were those -of Lacaille, containing about three thousand stars scattered -over the whole heavens.</p> - -<p>Maskelyne, who was then Astronomer Royal, had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123">123</a></span> -published in 1790 a catalogue of thirty-six fundamental -stars, chiefly for the purposes of navigation. The first -great catalogue of the century was the <cite xml:lang="la" lang="la">Fundamenta -Astronomiae</cite> of Bessel, produced in 1818. This contained -three thousand two hundred and twenty-two -stars. The Bonn <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Durchmüsterung</cite>, with its catalogue of -three hundred and twenty-four thousand one hundred -and ninety-eight stars in the northern hemisphere, and -the corresponding atlas published in 1857–63, was the -next memorable achievement in this direction. For it -we have to thank Bessel and Argelander and a perfect -system of work.</p> - -<p>Another monumental catalogue dealing with the -stars in the southern heavens has been that of the southern -stars observed by Gould (1866). While the century -was closing, another catalogue, far more stupendous -than anything which could be conceived possible a few -years ago, was steadily being compiled. This we owe -to the far-sightedness and energy of Admiral Mouchez, -a late director of the Paris Observatory. The work -was commenced in 1892.</p> - -<p>The whole heavens, north and south alike, have been -divided into zones, and the chief observatories on the -earth’s surface are busy night after night in taking -photographs of that part intrusted to them. The whole -heavens are thus being made to write their autobiography, -and the total gain to the astronomy of the future -of this most priceless record can perhaps be scarcely -grasped as yet, although the advantage of being able -at any point of future time to see on a photographic -plate what the heavens are telling now is sufficiently -obvious.</p> - -<p>Catalogues of the stars have, of course, led to other -minor catalogues of various classes of stars, binary, -variable, and the like. In the later years catalogues -of stars according to their spectra have enriched science.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124">124</a></span> -The first extensive catalogue of stellar spectra was -published by Vogel. It dealt with four thousand and -fifty-one stars, and appeared in 1883; it has since been -followed by the Draper catalogue, based upon photographs -of the spectra, which contains a much larger -number. With regard to nebulæ, Herschel published his -third catalogue in 1802. The last catalogue of this -nature is by Dreyer (1888), and contains seven thousand -eight hundred and forty of these objects. In the -time of Tycho they could be counted on the fingers of -one hand.</p> - -<h3>INVESTIGATIONS OF SOME IMPORTANT ASTRONOMICAL CONSTANTS</h3> - -<p>The nineteenth century was fruitful in the determination -of many numerical values which are all important in -enabling us to determine the distance and masses of the -heavenly bodies, thereby giving us a firm grasp not -only of the dimensions of our own system, but of those -scattered in the celestial spaces.</p> - -<p>To take the distances first. We must begin with the -exact measure of the earth; for this we must measure -the exact length of an arc of meridian or of parallel—that -is, a stretch of the earth’s surface lying north and -south or east and west, between places of which the -latitudes are accurately known in the former case, and -the longitude in the latter. In either case we can determine -the number of miles which go to a degree. Beginning -at the opening of the nineteenth century with an -arc of meridian of two degrees measured by Gauss, from -Göttingen to Altona, the arcs of meridian grew longer as -the century grew older, till, at the close, the measurement -of an arc of meridian from the Cape to Cairo, embracing -something like sixty-eight degrees of latitude, was -mooted.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125">125</a></span> -The measurements of arcs of parallel have been developed -by the rapid extension of telegraphic communications, -which now permit the longitude of the terminal -stations to be determined with the greatest accuracy.</p> - -<p>Thanks to this work, we now have the size of our -planet to a few miles. The polar diameter is 41,709,790 -feet, but the equator is not a circle: the equatorial diameter -from longitude 8 degrees 15 minutes west to -longitude 188 degrees 15 minutes west is 41,853,258 -feet; that at right angles to it is 41,850,210 feet—that -is, some thousand yards shorter. The earth, then, is -shaped like an orange slightly squeezed.</p> - -<p>Knowing the earth’s diameter, we can obtain the sun’s -distance by several methods, the old one by observing -transits of Venus, one of which Cook went out to observe -in 1768, and two of which recurred in 1874 and 1882; -new ones by observations of Mars or one of the minor -planets at a favorable opposition, and by determining -the velocity of light.</p> - -<p>The recent discovery of a minor planet, Eros, which -in one part of its orbit is nearer the earth than Mars, -has recently revived interest in this method, and a combined -attack is in contemplation.</p> - -<p>It has been long known that light has a finite velocity, -but we had to wait till the 60’s before Fizeau and Foucault -showed us how to determine its exact value. The -methods introduced by them have been recently applied -by Cornu, Newcomb, and Michelson, and the resulting -value is slightly less than three hundred thousand metres -per second. Combining this with the constant of aberration, -the distance of the sun can be determined.</p> - -<p>It is wonderful how these vastly different methods -agree in the resulting mean distance. At the beginning -of the century it stood roughly at ninety-five million -miles; this has been reduced to ninety-three million -nine hundred and sixty-five thousand miles. The extreme<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126">126</a></span> -difference between the old and new values of the -solar parallax, two-fifths of a second of arc, is represented -by the apparent breadth of a human hair viewed -at a distance of about one hundred and twenty-five -feet.</p> - -<p>Knowing the distance of the sun, the way is open to us -to determine, by a method suggested by Galileo, the distances -of those stars which occupy a different position -among their fellows, as seen from opposite points in the -earth’s orbit round the sun, points one hundred and -eighty-six million miles apart. We now know the distances -of many such stars, Bessel having determined -the first in 1838. The nearest star to us, so far as we -know, is Centauri, the light of which takes four and a -half years to reach us. Not many years ago Pritchard -applied photography to this branch of inquiry; we may, -therefore, expect a still more rapid progress in the future.</p> - -<p>With regard to masses. We naturally must first know -that of the earth; having its size, if we can determine -its density, the rest follows.</p> - -<p>The problem of determining the mean density of the -earth occupied the minds of many workers during the -nineteenth century. Newton (about 1728) pointed out -how it could be deduced by observing the deviation from -the vertical of a plumb-line suspended near a large mass -of matter—a mountain, the volume and density of which -could be previously determined. This method, which -is very laborious and requires the greatest skill and most -delicate instruments, has been employed several times, -by Bouguer and Condamine, in 1738, at Chimborazo; -Maskelyne, in 1774, at Schehallien in Scotland; and -James, at Arthur’s Seat, near Edinburgh.</p> - -<p>At the beginning of the century another method was -introduced by Cavendish. This consists in measuring -the attraction of two large spheres of known size and -mass, such as two balls of lead on two very small and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127">127</a></span> -light spheres, by means of a torsion balance constructed -by Mitchell for this purpose.</p> - -<p>The most recent determination by this method, and -one which is considered to give us perhaps the most accurate -value, is that which is due to the skill and ingenuity -of Professor Boys. His improvement consisted in -constructing a most delicate torsion balance; the attracted -spheres consisted of small gold balls suspended by a -quartz fibre carrying a mirror to indicate the amount of -twist. The whole instrument was quite small, and -could easily be protected from air currents and changes -of temperature, while the use of the quartz fibres reduced -to a minimum one of the greatest difficulties of the -Cavendish experiment. The value of the mean density -of the earth is now considered to be 5.6, which means -that if we have a globe of water exactly the same size as -our own earth, the real earth would weigh just 5.6 times -this globe of water. The earth’s weight, in tons, does -not convey much idea, but that it is six thousand trillions -may interest the curious. This determination has enabled -the masses of the sun, moon, planets and satellites, -and many sidereal systems to be accurately known -in relation to the mass of the earth.</p> - -<h3>SOME ACHIEVEMENTS OF MATHEMATICAL ANALYSIS</h3> - -<p>Uranus, a planet unknown to the ancients, was discovered -by its movement among the stars by William -Herschel in 1781. It was not until 1846 that another -major planet was added to the solar system, and this -discovery was one of the sensations of the century.</p> - -<p>The story of the independent discovery of Neptune -by Adams and Le Verrier, who were both driven to the -conclusion that certain apparent regularities in the motion -of Uranus were due to the attraction of another body -travelling on an orbit outside it, has been often told.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128">128</a></span> -The subsequent discovery of the external body not far -from the place at which their mathematical analysis -had led them to believe it would be seen, will forever be -regarded as a fine triumph of the human intellect.</p> - -<p>But the results of the inquiries which now concern us -are generally of not so sensational a character, although -they lie at the root of our knowledge of celestial motions. -They more often take the shape of tables and discussions -relating to the movements of the bodies which make up -our solar system.</p> - -<p>Gauss may be said to have led the way during the -nineteenth century by his <cite xml:lang="la" lang="la">Theoria molus corporum coelestium -solem ambientium</cite>. This was a worthy sequel to -the <cite xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Méchanique Céleste</cite>, in which work, towards the end -of the eighteenth century, Laplace had enshrined all -that was known on the planetary results of gravitation.</p> - -<p>In later years Le Verrier and Newcomb have been -among the chief workers on whom the mantle of such -distinguished predecessors has fallen. From them the -planet and satellite tables now in use have been derived.</p> - -<p>But the motion of our own satellite, the moon, has had -fascinations for other analysts besides those we have -named.</p> - -<p>The problem, indeed, of the moon’s motion is one of -the most difficult, and has taxed the ingenuity of astronomers -from an early date. Even at the present day it is -impossible to predict the exact position of the moon at -any one moment owing to inequalities and perturbations, -the exact varying values of which are not known.</p> - -<p>The two most important theories of the motion of the -moon completed towards the middle of the century were -due to Hansen and Delaunay. The former’s appeared in -1838, the lunar tables being published later (1857), while -the latter’s was published in 1860.</p> - -<p>Hansen’s theory had for its chief object the formation<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129">129</a></span> -of tables; to avoid the inconvenience of using in his calculations -series which slowly converge, he inserted numerical -values throughout. In Hansen’s solution the -problem is one actually presented by nature, allowance -being made for every known cause of disturbance. There -is one disadvantage, namely, that should observations -demand a change in any of the constants used, there is -no means of making any correction in the results.</p> - -<p>Delaunay’s theory surmounted this difficulty, but at -the expense of still greater inconvenience for making -an ephemeris. The slow convergence of certain series -involved an immense amount of labor to give sufficiently -approximate results.</p> - -<p>More recently, as the century was closing, Dr. Brown -took up the subject and made a fresh attempt to calculate -the motion of our satellite. It may be stated that -he adopts all Delaunay’s modifications of the problem -and works them out algebraically; but there are many -technical differences which it would be out of place to -mention here.</p> - -<p>Enough has been stated to show that there is not likely -to be any breach of continuity in the treatment of this -most important problem.</p> - -<p>Another attack on the moon, and, incidentally, its -motion, has recently been made by another analyst, -Professor George Darwin; grappling with all the consequences -of tidal friction, he has been able to present -to us the past and future history of our satellite. Beginning -as a part of the material congeries from which -subsequently some fifty million years ago both earth and -moon, as separate bodies, were formed, it has ever since -been extending its orbit, and so retreating farther away -from its centre of motion, while the period of the earth’s -rotation has been increasing at the same time, from a -possible period of some three hours when the moon was -born, to one of one thousand four hundred hours when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130">130</a></span> -the day and month will be equal, something like one -hundred and fifty million years being required for the -process.</p> - -<h3>STELLAR EVOLUTION</h3> - -<p>It was only in the 80’s, after thousands of observations -of the spectra of stars, nebulæ, and comets had been -secured, that the full meaning of the revelations of the -spectroscope began to dawn upon the world.</p> - -<p>Before the introduction of spectrum analysis all stars -were supposed to be suns, and the only difference recognized -among them was one of brilliancy and the variation -of brilliancy in the case of some of them.</p> - -<p>It ultimately came out that great classes might be -recognized by the differences of their spectra, which -were ultimately traced to differences in their chemistry -and in their temperature, as determined by the extension -of the spectra in the ultra-violet, the whiter stars being -hotter than the red ones, as a white-hot poker is hotter -than a red-hot poker.</p> - -<p>Next there was evidence to show that a large proportion -of the stars were not stars at all like the sun, but -swarms of meteorites; and in this way the mysterious -new stars which appear from time to time in the heavens, -and a large number of variable stars, were explained -as arising from collisions among such swarms.</p> - -<p>The inquiry which dealt with the spectroscopic results, -having thus introduced the ideas of meteor swarms -and collisions to explain many stellar phenomena, went -further and showed that the various chemical changes -observed in passing from star to star might also be explained -by supposing the whole stellar constitution to -arise from cool meteoritic swarms represented by nebulæ, -the changes up to a certain point being explained by a -rise of temperature due to condensation towards a centre. -Here the new view was opposed to that of Laplace, advanced<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131">131</a></span> -during the last century, that the stars were produced -by condensation and cooling; but Kelvin had -shown, before the new view was enunciated, that Laplace’s -view was contrary to thermodynamics, a branch -of science which had developed since Laplace published -his famous <cite xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Exposition du Système du Monde</cite>.</p> - -<p>After all the meteorites in the parent swarm had been -condensed into the central gaseous mass, that mass had -to cool. So that we had in the heavens not only stars -more or less meteoritic in structure, of <em>rising</em> temperature, -but stars chiefly gaseous, of falling temperature. -It was obvious that representatives of both these classes -of stars might have nearly the same mean effective temperature, -and therefore more or less the same spectrum. -A minute inquiry entirely justified these conclusions.</p> - -<p>So far had the detailed chemistry of the stars been -carried in the latter years of the century that the question -of stellar evolution gave rise to that of inorganic evolution -generally, the sequence in the phenomena of -which can only be studied in the stars, for laboratory -work without stint has shown that in them we have -celestial furnaces, the heat of which transcends that of -our most powerful electric sparks. In this way astronomy -is paying the debt she owes to chemistry.</p> - -<h3>THE SUN AND HIS SYSTEM</h3> - -<p>Although the outer confines of space have, as we -have seen, been compelled to bring their tribute of new -knowledge by means of the penetrating power possessed -by modern telescopes, and the cameras and spectroscopes -attached to them, the study of the <em>near</em> has by -no means been neglected, and for the reason that in astronomy -especially we must content ourselves in the -case of the more distant bodies by surmising what<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132">132</a></span> -happens in them from the facts gathered in the region -where alone detailed observations are possible.</p> - -<p>Thus what we can learn about the sun helps to explain -what we discern much more dimly in the case of -stars; a study of the moon’s face we are compelled to take -as showing us the possibilities relating to the surface -condition of other satellites so far removed from us that -they only appear as points of light.</p> - -<p>To begin, then, with the sun. Where a volume might -be written, a few words must suffice. I have already -stated that at the beginning of the nineteenth century -the prevailing opinion was that it was a habitable globe. -It was limited to the fiery ball we see. At the end of the -century it is a body of the fiercest heat, and the ball we -see is only a central portion of a huge and terribly interesting -mechanism, the outer portions of which heave -and throb every eleven years. Spots, prominences, corona, -everything feels this throbbing.</p> - -<p>Although the discovery of spots on the sun was among -Galileo’s first achievements, it was reserved for the last -half of the nineteenth century to demonstrate their almost -perfect periodicity.</p> - -<p>Thanks to the labors of Schwabe, Wolf, Carrington, -and De la Rue, Stewart, and Loewy, we now know that -every eleven years the spots wax and wane; Tacchini -and Ricco, during the last thirty years, have proved -that the prominences follow suit, and the fact that the -corona also obeys the same law was established during -the American eclipse of 1878.</p> - -<p>The study of solar physics consists in watching and -recording the thermal, chemical, and other changes -which accompany this period. Some of these effects -can be best studied during those times when the ball -itself is covered by the moon in an eclipse. Then the -outer portions of the sun are revealed in all their beauty -and majesty, and all the world goes to see.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133">133</a></span> -But it is the quiet daily work in the laboratory which -has enabled us to study the sun’s place in relation to -the other stars, and so to found a chemical classification -of all the stars that shine.</p> - -<p>From the sun we may pass to his system, and first -consider the nearest body to us—the moon.</p> - -<p>While some astronomers have been discussing the -movements and evolution of our satellite, others have -been engaged upon maps of its surface, upon questions -dealing with a lunar atmosphere, or a study of the origin -of the present conformations and of possible changes. -The science of selenology may be said to have been -founded by Schröter at the beginning of the century, -but it required the application of photography in later -years to put it on a firm basis. Maps of the moon have -been prepared by Lohrmann, Beer and Mädler, and -Schmidt, the latter showing the positions of more than -thirty thousand craters.</p> - -<p>Very erroneous notions are held by some as to what -we may hope to do in the examination of the moon’s -surface by a powerful telescope. A power of a thousand -enables us to see it as if we were looking at York -from London. It is recorded that Lassell once said that -with his largest reflector in a “fit” of the finest definition -he thought he might be able to detect whether a carpet -as large as Lincoln’s Inn Fields was round or square. -Under these circumstances, then, we may well understand -that the question of changes on the surface has -been raised from time to time never to be absolutely -settled one way or the other. By many the existence -of an atmosphere is denied, and this is a condition which -would negative changes, anything like the geological -changes brought about on the surface of the earth, but -the idea is now held by many that there is still an atmosphere, -though of great tenuity.</p> - -<p>The last few years of the century were rendered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134">134</a></span> -memorable from the lunar point of view by the publication -and minute study of a most admirable series of -photographs of the moon obtained by the great equatorial -Coudé of the Paris Observatory by Loewy and Puiseaux. -One of the chief points aimed at has been to determine -the sequence of the various events represented -by the rills, craters, and walled plains, the mountain -ranges and seas. This work is still in progress, the -fourth part of the atlas being published in 1900; but -enough has already appeared to indicate that the results -of the inquiry when completed will be of the most important -kind. The authors have already come to the conclusion -that the lunar and terrestrial sea-bottoms much -resemble each other, inasmuch as both have convex -surfaces. The lunar seas began by sinking of vast -regions; the formidable volcanic eruptions of which the -moon has been the scene have taken place in times equivalent -to those labelled “recent” in geological parlance. -There is evidence that the axis of the moon has undergone -great displacements, and four great periods of -change have been made out. Finally they state that -there is serious ground to believe that there is an atmosphere -of some sort remaining.</p> - -<p>It may readily be understood that with each increase -of optical power new satellites of the various planets -have been discovered. Soon after the discovery of Neptune -a satellite was noted by Lassell. In 1846 both he -and the eagle-eyed observer Dawes independently discovered -another satellite (Hyperion) of Saturn. Lassell -was rewarded in the next year by the discovery of two -more satellites of Uranus; but, strangest observation -of all, in 1877 Hall discovered at Washington two satellites -of Mars some six or seven miles only in diameter, -one of them revolving round the planet in seven and one-half -hours at a distance of less than four thousand miles. -As the day on Mars is not far different in duration from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135">135</a></span> -our own, this tiny satellite must rise in the west and -south three times a day!</p> - -<p>Wonderful as this discovery was, it is certainly not -less wonderful when we consider it in connection with -a passage in <cite>Gulliver’s Travels</cite>, so true is it that truth is -stranger than fiction. Swift, in his satirical reference -to the inhabitants of Laputa, writes: “They have likewise -discovered two lesser stars, or satellites, which revolve -round Mars, whereof the innermost is distant from -the centre of the primary planet exactly three of his diameters -and the outermost five; the former revolves in -the space of ten hours; and the latter in twenty-one -and a half.”</p> - -<p>The last discovery of this kind has been that of an -inner satellite of Jupiter by Barnard in 1892.</p> - -<p>The planets from Mercury to Saturn were known to -the ancients. I have already referred to the discovery -of Uranus by Herschel’s giant telescope, not long before -the nineteenth century was born, and of Neptune, by -analysis, towards the end of the first half of the century. -With regard to what modern observations have done in -regard to their physical appearance, the first place in -general interest must be given to Saturn and Mars.</p> - -<p>Saturn has always been regarded as the most interesting -of the planetary family on account of its unique -rings. Many subdivisions of the rings, and a dusky -ring, first seen by Dawes and Bond, have been discovered -during the last sixty years.</p> - -<p>The meteoritic nature of the rings was suggested by -Clerk Maxwell in 1857, and Keeler’s demonstration of -the truth of this view by means of the spectroscope, a -few years ago, was brilliant in conception and execution.</p> - -<p>But during the last half of the century the interest -centred in Mars has been gradually increasing. The -drawings made during the opposition of 1862, when -compared with those made by Beer and Mädler (1830–40),<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136">136</a></span> -made it perfectly clear that in this planet we had to -deal with one strangely like our own in many respects. -There were obviously land and water surfaces; the -snow at the poles melted in the summer-time; clouds -were seen forming from time to time, and the changing -tones of the water surfaces suggested fine and rough -weather.</p> - -<p>Afterwards came the revelation of the hawk-eyed Schiaparelli, -beginning in the year 1877, and his wonderful -map of the planet’s surface. The land surfaces, instead -of being unbroken, were cut up, as an English farm is -cut up by hedges; straight lines of different breadths -and tints crossed the land surfaces in all directions, and -at times some of them appeared double. Schiaparelli -naturally concluded that they were rivers—water channels—and -being an Italian he used the appropriate word -<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">canali</i>. This, unfortunately, as it turned out, was translated -<em>canals</em>. Now canals are dug, <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">ergo</i> there were diggers. -From this the demonstration, not of the habitability, -but of the actual habitation, of Mars was a small -step, and the best way of signalling to newly found kinsmen -across some thirty millions of miles of space was -discussed.</p> - -<p>The world of science owes a debt of gratitude to Mr. -Percival Lowell for having taken out to the pure air and -low latitude of Arizona an eighteen-inch telescope for the -sole purpose of accumulating facts tending to throw -light upon this newly raised question. This he did in -1894. Schiaparelli has continued his magnificent observations -through each opposition when the planet -is most favorably situated for observation, and since -1896 Signor Cerulli, armed with a fifteen-inch Cooke, -in the fine climate of Italy, has joined in the inquiry, so -that facts are now being rapidly accumulated. It has -been stated that markings similar to the strange so-called -“canals” on Mars are to be seen on Mercury,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137">137</a></span> -Venus, and even on the satellites of Jupiter. Mr. Percival -Lowell does not hesitate to proclaim himself in favor -of their being due, <em>in Mars</em>, to an intelligent system of -irrigation. Signor Cerulli claims that <em>wherever seen</em> -they are mere optical effects. We may be well content -to leave to the twentieth century a general agreement on -this interesting subject.</p> - -<p>Finally, in our survey of our own system, come comets -and meteor swarms. One of the most fruitful discoveries -of the century, that comets are meteor swarms, we owe -to the genius of Schiaparelli, A. H. Newton, and other -workers on those tiny celestial messengers which give -rise to the phenomena of “falling” or “shooting” stars.</p> - -<p>The magnificent displays of 1799, 1833, 1866, and, -alas! that which failed to come in 1899, we now know -must be associated with Tempel’s Comet. This is by -no means the only case so far established; the connection -will in the future be closer still when the orbits -of the various swarms observed throughout the year -shall be better known.</p> - -<p>Comets which attract public attention by their brightness -and grandeur of form are rather rare, and, in fact, -only twenty-five of such have been seen since 1800. We -have, however, with the great advance in instrumental -equipment, been able to discover many which are scarcely -visible to the naked eye, and this has swollen the number -of comets very considerably. In the seventeenth century -we find that only thirty-two were observed, while in -the eighteenth this number was more than doubled -(seventy-two). In the nineteenth century more than -three hundred were placed on record, which is practically -more than four times the number seen in the eighteenth.</p> - -<p>The last great comet visible any considerable time -was that discovered by Donati in 1858, and so carefully -observed by Bond. It is unfortunate that since the importance, -in so many directions, of spectroscopic observations<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138">138</a></span> -of comets has been recognized they have been -conspicuous by their absence.</p> - -<h3>THE CONNECTION BETWEEN SOLAR AND TERRESTRIAL WEATHER</h3> - -<p>Everybody agrees that all the energy utilized on this -planet of ours, with the single exception of that supplied -by the tides, comes from the sun. We are all -familiar with the changes due to the earth’s daily rotation -bringing us now on the side of our planet illuminated -by the sun, then plunging us into darkness; that changes -of season must necessarily follow from the earth’s yearly -journey round the sun is universally recognized.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, it is a modern idea that those solar -phenomena which prove to us considerable changes of -temperature in the sun itself, may, and indeed should, -be echoed by changes on our planet, giving us thereby -an eleven-year period to be considered, as well as a year -and a day.</p> - -<p>This response of the earth to solar changes was first -observed in the continuous records of those instruments -which register for us the earth’s magnetism at any one -place. The magnetic effects were strongest when there -were more spots, taking them as indicators of solar -changes. Lamont first (without knowing it) made -this out, at the beginning of the latter half of the century -(1851), from the Göttingen observations of the daily -range of the declination needle. Sabine the next year -not only announced the same cycle in the violence of -the “magnetic storms” observed at Toronto, but at -once attributed them to solar influence, the two cycles -running concurrently. It is now universally recognized -that terrestrial magnetic effects, including auroræ, minutely -echo the solar changes.</p> - -<p>The eleven-year period is not one to be neglected.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139">139</a></span> -Next comes the inquiry in relation to meteorology. -Sir William Herschel, in the first year of the century, -when there were practically neither sun-spot nor rainfall -observations available, did not hesitate to attack -the question whether the price of wheat was affected -by the many-or-few-spot solar condition. He found -the price to be high when the sun was spotless, and <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">vice -versa</i>.</p> - -<p>By 1872, however, we had both rainfall and sun-spot -observations, and the cycle of the latter had been made -out. Meldrum, the most distinguished meteorologist -living at the time, and others, pronounced that the rainfall -was greatest at sun-spot maximum, and, further, -that the greatest number of cyclones occurred in the -East and West Indies at such times.</p> - -<p>This result with regard to rainfall was not generally -accepted, but Chambers showed shortly afterwards an -undoubted connection between the cycles of solar spots -and barometric pressure in the Indian area.</p> - -<p>By means of a study of the widened lines observed -in sun spots an attempt has been recently made to study -the temperature, history of the sun since about 1877, -and the years of mean temperature and when the heat -was in excess (+) and defect (-) made out, have been -as follows:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="centerblock"> -<table summary="Sun temperatures"> - <tr> - <td class="tdc">Heat</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc lrpad">condition</td> - <td class="tdc lrpad">mean</td> - <td class="tdc">+</td> - <td class="tdc">mean</td> - <td class="tdc">−</td> - <td class="tdc">mean</td> - <td class="tdc">+</td> - <td class="tdc">mean</td> - <td class="tdc">−</td> - <td class="tdc">mean</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc">Years</td> - <td class="tdc">1869</td> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdc">1876</td> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdc">1881</td> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdc">1886–87</td> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdc">1891–92</td></tr> - <tr> - <td> </td> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdc">1870–75</td> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdc">1877–80</td> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdc">1882–86</td> - <td> </td> - <td class="tdc">1881–91</td> - <td class="tdc">1892</td></tr> -</table> -</div></div> - -<p>Having these solar data, the next thing to do was to -study the Indian rainfall during the southwest monsoon -for the years 1877–1886, the object being to endeavor to -ascertain if the + and − temperature pulses in the sun -were echoed by + and − pulses of rainfall. The Indian -rainfall was taken first because in the tropics the phenomena<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140">140</a></span> -are known to be the simplest. It was found -that in many parts of India the + and − conditions -of solar temperature were accompanied by + and − -pulses, producing pressure changes and heavy rains -in the Indian Ocean and the surrounding land. These -occurred generally in the first year following the mean -condition, that is, in 1877–78 and 1882–83.</p> - -<p>The rainfalls at Mauritius, Cape Town, and Batavia -were next collated to see if the pulses felt in India were -traceable in other regions surrounding the Indian Ocean -to the south and east. This was found to be the case.</p> - -<p>A wider inquiry was followed, we are told, with equal -success, so that we are justified in hoping that the question -of the dependence of terrestrial upon solar weather -has made a step in advance.</p> - -<p>But just as the general public and practical men took -little heed of the connection between sun spots and -magnetism until experience taught them that telegraphic -messages often could not “get through” when there -were many sun spots, so the same public will not consider -the connection in regard to meteorology unless the -forecasting of droughts and famines be possible.</p> - -<p>The recent work suggests that, if the recent advances -in solar physics be considered, the inquiries regarding -rainfall may be placed on a firmer basis than they could -possibly have had in 1872, and that such forecastings -may become possible.</p> - -<p>What was looked for in 1872 was a change in the quantity -of rain at maximum sun spots only, the idea being -that there might be an effective change of solar temperature, -either in excess or defect, at such times and -that there would be a gradual and continuous variation -from maximum to maximum.</p> - -<p>We see that the rainfalls referred to above justify the -conclusions derived from the recent work that two effects -ought to be expected in a sun-spot cycle instead of one.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141">141</a></span> -There was excess of rainfall, not only near the sun-spot -maximum, but near the minimum.</p> - -<p>If the authors of this communication to which I refer -are right, then droughts and famines occur in India because -the rain pulses, which are associated with the solar-heat -pulses, are of short duration. When they cease the -quantity of rain which falls in the Indian area is not -sufficient, without water storage, for the purposes of -agriculture; they are followed, therefore, by droughts, -and at times subsequently by famines. They divide the -period 1877—89 as under:</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="centerblock"> -<table summary="rain pulses"> - <tr> - <td class="tdl vc" rowspan="3">Rain from − pulse</td> - <td class="tdl">{ 1877.</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">{ 1878.</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1879 (part).</td></tr> - - <tr class="tpad"> - <td class="tdl vc" rowspan="3">No rain pulse</td> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1879 (part).</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1880 (central year).</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1881 (part).</td></tr> - - <tr class="tpad"> - <td class="tdl vc" rowspan="4">Rain from + pulse</td> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1881 (part).</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1882.</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1883.</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1884 (part).</td></tr> - - <tr class="tpad"> - <td class="tdl vc" rowspan="4">No rain pulse</td> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1884 (part).</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">{ 1885 }</td> - <td class="tdl vc" rowspan="2"> (central year).</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl">{ 1886 }</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1887 (part).</td></tr> - - <tr class="tpad"> - <td class="tdl vc" rowspan="3">Rain from − pulse</td> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1887 (part).</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1888.</td></tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdl" colspan="2">{ 1889.</td></tr> -</table> -</div></div> - -<p>Their statement is based on the fact that all the famines -which have devastated India for the last seventy years -have occurred at intervals of eleven years, or thereabouts, -working backward and forward from the central years -1880 and 1885–86 in the above table, the middle years, -that is, between the pulses.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142">142</a></span> -Mr. Willcocks, in a paper read at the Meteorological -Congress at Chicago, remarked that “famines in India -are generally years of low flood in Egypt.”</p> - -<p>It is now pointed out that the highest Niles follow the -years of the + and − pulses, as does the highest rainfall -in the Indian area.</p> - -<p>Even if these results, which were communicated to -the Royal Society of London five weeks before the end -of the century, be confirmed, it may be pointed out that -Sir William Herschel’s suggestion of 1801 will have required -a whole century for its fulfilment, so slowly do -those branches of science move which have not already -led to some practical development.</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">Norman Lockyer.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145">145</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="PHILOSOPHY"></a>PHILOSOPHY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">It</span> is a natural illusion that makes us think of each -century as exhibiting the continuous development of -one tendency of mind through a series of stages whose -differences are only of secondary importance, and, on -the other hand, to regard the steps from one century -to another as corresponding to some marked transition -of thought, as if the world had been suddenly precipitated -into a new sphere of existence. For some purposes a -rough generalization of this kind, that breaks at stated -intervals the continuity of time, may, perhaps, be convenient. -When, however, we begin to look at things -more closely, we discover that it is impossible thus to -cut through the historical connection of events, as it -were, “with a hatchet.” We discover, for example, -that the characteristics of the eighteenth century were -strongly marked only in one period of it; and that -what we call the spirit of the nineteenth century was -born some time before the year 1800, and has never quite -prevailed over other tendencies. At the same time, there -is an important difference indicated by these two loosely -used names, and as it is always easier to define things -by contrast, it may help us to make our subject more -definite to consider what they mean.</p> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>It is too late now to “abuse the eighteenth century,” -which had its good and evil, like other periods. It is<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146">146</a></span> -commonly conceived as the era of individualism and -analysis, the era of logical enlightenment and sceptical -criticism; and, again, as the era of liberation from groundless -superstitions and fictitious claims of authority; -the era in which mankind seemed for the first time to -throw off the weight of the past and to enter without fear -upon the enjoyment of their earthly heritage. The science -of Newton had given the last blow to the astronomy -that made the earth the centre of the universe. -It had undermined and discredited the simple theology -that explained the whole material world as a cosmos -arranged for the supply of human needs. At the same -time, the progress of biology was bringing man to a -consciousness that as a physical being he is only <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">primus -inter pares</i> in the animal kingdom, and the decay of -religious belief was making him realize his finitude, -the limits of his natural existence, as, perhaps, he had -never done before, at least never since the beginning -of the Christian era. Earth seemed to be disconnected -from heaven, and the human race thrown upon its own -resources. By the new enlightenment all powers, ecclesiastical -or political, were stripped of the mysterious -sanctity that had once invested them. “The nimbus -was taken away from the heads of the gods and rulers -of the world.” Every authority that claimed man’s -homage was weighed in the scales of the understanding, -and, so weighed, every such authority was found wanting. -The State had come to be regarded as only a collection -of individuals who had agreed to live together -under a ruler deriving all his claims from their consent, -and invested with no divine right to their allegiance. -The Church was no longer a sacred institution governed -by priests who held their commission directly from -God, but only a sort of spiritual police agency, an ally -of the State in the restraint of vice and crime, or, at best, -in Protestant countries, a society for mutual improvement.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147">147</a></span> -Men were “free and equal,” each standing face -to face with his fellows, admitting no superiority or -superstition of hero-worship in regard to any one of -them. And the Deity, if his existence were not denied, -tended to become a mere “Supreme Being,” who was -removed to such a distance from mankind that he could -hardly be reached by their reverence, still less by their -love.</p> - -<p>At the same time, the influences which, in one point -of view, seemed to limit and narrow human existence, -in another point of view tended to liberate and enlarge -it. If they excluded the idea of the infinite from man’s -life, they emancipated him from many degrading superstitions, -which in an earlier age had held him “all his -lifetime subject to bondage.” And as the pressure from -above was lightened the individual seemed to become -master of himself and of his destiny. If the king could -no longer say, “<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">L’Etat c’est moi</i>,” the rights of the subject -were vindicated; if the authority of the Church was -weakened, the bonds of free inquiry were broken; if -imagination ceased to fill men with the awe and wonder -of higher powers, the way was opened up for scientific -and industrial development; if God was regarded as -unknowable, “the proper study of mankind was man,” -and that study could now be pursued without fear or -hinderance. Poetry and religion might be impoverished, -the sense of the binding force of social relations might -be weakened, but interest in the bettering of man’s earthly -condition was awakened, and with it came a new desire -for justice to all, a new intolerance of human suffering, -and a new demand that the lot of the class “which is -most numerous and poor” should be made less wretched -and insecure, and, towards the end of the century, a new -turn was given to its leading thought, for an effort was -made to discover in the nature of the individual himself -the equivalent of those universal powers which the enlightenment<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148">148</a></span> -had banished from the external world and -from the life of society. Rousseau carried individualism -to an extreme point, at which it became its own correction, -and taught men to find <em>within</em> their own souls the -infinite which they could no longer discover <em>without</em>. -Rejecting in the first instance all social conventions as -unjust limitations of the natural man, and adopting -the prevailing theory of the time, that the State is only -the product of a contract between independent persons, -he yet discovered in the individual thus liberated from -all external pressure a “common reason,” and “a general -will,” which could reorganize his life and bind him -to his fellow-men and to God. This great idea, which -appears in Rousseau rather as a stroke of insight, an -intuition of genius—lifting him above his first thoughts -and insensibly changing their meaning—was grasped -by Kant as the principle of a new philosophy and worked -out in a comprehensive system that dealt with all the -great problems of thought and life. Kant, indeed, -seemed, like Rousseau, to begin on the plane of eighteenth-century -individualism, but, influenced as he was -by the philosophy of Leibnitz, he from the first conceived -the individual as in himself universal; or, to speak more -exactly, as having a universal principle realized in him. -Thus, though in one aspect of his being man is a finite -object among other objects, confined within limits of -space and time, and forming only a link in the chain -of natural causation, in another aspect of it, as a conscious -self, he is emancipated from all these limitations. -For—such is Kant’s argument—a knowing subject, -for whom the whole finite world, including his own finite -existence, is an object of knowledge, cannot himself be -comprehended in that world or limited by any of its -conditions. As there can be no world of objects except -for a self, it is impossible that such a self should be merely -one of these objects. Thus, as knowing, or capable of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149">149</a></span> -knowing, all things, man cannot be identified with any -of them; or if, from one point of view, as an individual, -he is so identified, yet he has within him a universal -principle that carries him beyond the limits of his individuality. -And this contrast shows itself also in his -practical life. For if as an object he appears to be but -an animal organism, moved by the impressions of pleasure -and pain which he receives from other objects, yet in -his inner moral life man is revealed to himself as a self-determining -subject, emancipated from all sensuous motives -and from the necessity of nature which they bring -with them, and conscious of subordination only to the -law of duty, which is the law of his own reason. And -that law, in spite of every pressure of circumstance -from without, and of every impulse of passion from -within, he knows that he ought to obey, and therefore -he knows that he <em>can</em> obey it. Thus, in Kant’s theory, -the two extreme views of humanity, as natural and as -spiritual, as limited to a finite individuality, hemmed -in by necessities on every side, and yet as possessing -a universal capacity of knowing, and an absolute power -of self-determination, these two views are presented -in sharp antithesis, and at the same time held together -as different aspects of one life. In fact, we have here, -as it were, compressed into a nutshell, the result of the -whole history of eighteenth-century individualism, which -began by depressing man and ended by exalting him; -which, with one of its voices, seemed to reduce him to -the level of an animal, a mere part of the partial world, -a transitory phenomenal existence among other phenomena; -and then, with its other voice, proceeded to -recognize him as a member of the intelligible world, -a “spectator of all time and existence,” and gifted with -the absolute freedom of a will which could be determined -by nothing but itself. “The solitary,” says Aristotle, -“must be either a god or a beast,” and the eighteenth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150">150</a></span> -century, in its conception of the individual, seemed to -oscillate between the one and the other till Kant, awaking -to the impossibility of omitting either aspect of his -being, demanded that he should be conceived as both -at once. Kant thus set the problem of the future; and -if he did not solve it, he at least showed the futility of any -narrow or one-sided solution and the direction in which -an adequate solution could alone be sought. In short, -Kant asked the question to which the nineteenth century, -in all its philosophical reflection, has been striving to -find an answer.</p> - -<p>For in philosophy, as in other departments of knowledge, -the work of the nineteenth century has been one -of mediation and reconciliation. It has been an endeavor -to break down the sharp antithesis of philosophical -and scientific theories that was characteristic -of an earlier time. In the writings of the greatest thinkers, -the oppositions of materialism and spiritualism, -of sensationalism and idealism, of empiricism and <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">a priori</i> -speculation, of individualism and socialism, all the great -oppositions of theoretical and practical philosophy, which -formerly were held to be absolute and irreconcilable, -have been modified, restated, reduced to the <em>relative</em> -antagonism of the different aspects of one truth. The -great controversies of the past have thus passed into a -new phase, in which absolute statements <em>pro</em> and <em>con</em> -have become, as it were, antiquated; and the question is -no longer whether a particular doctrine or its opposite -is true, but what are the elements of truth and error in -each of them, and how we can attain to a comprehensive -view of things, in which justice is done to both. And if -it be asked, what are the principles or ideas that have -suggested this reconciling work, and have been the -guides of the greatest scientific or philosophic writers -in attempting to achieve it, I think the answer must -be that they are <em>the idea of organic unity</em>, and, as implied<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151">151</a></span> -in that, <em>the idea of development</em>. Goethe and Hegel, -in Germany; Comte, in France; Darwin and Spencer, in -England, are writers who almost span the whole range -of difference in modern thought; but they, and a multitude -of others in every department of study, have been -inspired by the ideas of organism and development. -And they have all used them somewhat in the same -way to turn the edge of the old controversial weapons, -or to lift thought above the “yes” and “no” of opposing -dogmatisms. It is true that the definitions or interpretations -of the ideas of organism and development given -by these writers are very different, and often, indeed, -so sharply opposed that they seem to bring back the -old controversies in a new form. But this does not -alter the significance of the general fact; for, in the first -place, the use of an idea by any writer is by no means -always limited by his own interpretation of it; and, in -the second place, the true interpretation of the idea is -that which contains the secret of its power and prevalence, -and it must in the long run gain the victory over all -other interpretations of it. We may, therefore, fairly -say that these ideas have been the marked ideas of the -century, the conscious or unconscious stimulus of its -best thought; and that they have been working, and -are working still, in the direction of a deeper and more -comprehensive irenicon between the different tendencies -of the human mind than has been attained in any previous -stage of the history of philosophy.</p> - -<p>Against such a general characterization of an age, -there is the same objection which Burke indicated when -he said that “he could not draw up an indictment against -a nation.” We are taking a distant and general view -of a period, in which all its inequalities of movement, -all the ebb and flow of opinion, are lost sight of, and only -one main current of thought is visible. We may get -a step nearer to the subject by distinguishing three<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152">152</a></span> -periods in the century, in which there is a partial difference -of tendency. The first period, which we may roughly -define as lasting well on into the 30’s, is, in the main, -a period of construction, of creative thought, in which -the great germinating ideas that distinguished the century -are more or less adequately expressed in different -countries, and in which they receive a first, somewhat -hasty, application to all departments of human knowledge. -Idealistic philosophy, which gave the fullest -expression to those ideas, seems for a time to carry all -before it in Germany; and a similar movement of thought, -less definitely reflective or speculative, enriches the literature -of other countries. In the next period, lasting until -the 70’s, the new ideas do not lose their hold upon men’s -minds, but there is a certain critical recoil against them, -a tendency to explain them away. The first premature -synthesis of idealistic philosophy is attacked by a -scepticism, which seems at times as if it would measure -back the whole way to the individualistic materialism -of an earlier age, or which only avoids that extreme -to fall into a scientific agnosticism, at first sight -even more hostile to the claims of philosophy. But -the lesson of Kant could never be altogether forgotten, -nor could the negative or sceptical tendencies of the -<cite>Critique of Pure Reason</cite> be permanently separated -from the positive results of his later writings. And -the great scientific movement of the time, which at first -seemed to draw away all interest from speculative inquiry, -tended in the long run, especially by the advance -of biological study, to raise metaphysical questions -which the methods of science were incapable of answering. -Hence, in the latest decades of the century, there -has come a revival of interest in philosophy, and especially -in the idealistic philosophy of its first years. -But if philosophy has revived, it is in a more critical and -cautious form, and accompanied by a clear consciousness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153">153</a></span> -that the only true idealism is that which is able to absorb -and assimilate all the data supplied by empirical investigation, -and do justice to all the results of the special -sciences. The general movement of thought in the nineteenth -century has thus, on the whole, taken an idealistic -direction; but there has come with it also a deeper consciousness -of the immense difficulty of a comprehensive -synthesis; of the inefficacy of any easy monism or optimism, -that would pluck the fruit of knowledge before -it is ripe; of the infinite labor and patience, the sympathetic -appreciation of the opposing views of others, -and constant and unsparing criticism of our own, which -are needed for the construction of a true philosophy.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>In a short article like this, it is impossible to give more -than a few indications of the way in which this three-fold -<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">schema</i> of the history of nineteenth-century philosophy -should be filled up. To give any definite impression, -the writer must, so to speak, put on the seven-leagued -boots of Jack the Giant Killer; in other words, -however conscious he may be of the truth that <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">dolus -latet in generalibus</i>, he must generalize and be content -to mention only a few leading names in illustration of -the tendencies of thought of which he speaks.</p> - -<p>It is the instinct of each new generation to vindicate -its freedom by rebelling against the authority of -its predecessors; and when a new idea begins to influence -human thought, it usually, on its first appearance, -shows that side which is most antagonistic to the spirit -of the past. Thus the peculiar nineteenth-century -movement begins with a reassertion of the <em>universal</em> as -against the <em>individual</em>, which is so emphatic that it looks -like a return to Spinozism. Schelling is the most prominent -philosophical representative of this tendency. In<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154">154</a></span> -the works which he wrote about the beginning of the -century, he broke away even from the universalized -individualism of Fichte, and gave emphatic prominence -to the great philosophical commonplace—which had -been almost forgotten by the previous age—that there is -an identity which is below or above all distinction, and -that the universe is one through all its multiplicity, and -permanent through all its changes. His maxim—that -there are none but <em>quantitative</em> differences in things, -and that all these, even the difference of mind and matter, -disappear in the “indifference” of the Absolute—was -like a declaration of war against the “enlightenment.” -It meant that philosophy was no longer content -to regard the whole as the sum of the parts, but -could look upon the distinction of the parts only as a -differentiation of the whole. With Schelling, indeed, -this differentiation was in danger of being reduced to a -mere appearance and the unity of the Absolute was on -the point of vanishing in a bare or abstract identity. -But his strong assertion of the unity beneath all difference, -of the priority of the universal to all particulars, -was perhaps necessary, ere the true conception of the -organic unity of the world could be arrived at. And -the correction soon came with Hegel, who maintained -that the absolute is “not substance, but subject.” For -this meant that the absolute is a self-differentiating principle, -realizing itself in a world of difference which is no -mere appearance, but its own essential manifestation; -and again—what is the counterpart or complementary -truth to this—that in the world there are “degrees of -reality,” and that “mind is higher in degree than nature.” -But these ideas could hardly have been understood until -the uncompromising assertion of the absolute unity -had been made, and until the subjectivity of the Kantian -and Fichtean points of view had once for all been set -aside.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155">155</a></span> -The philosophy of Hegel derives its power from the -way in which it strikes what, as I have already said, -was the key-note of the nineteenth-century philosophy. -In the first place, it is a philosophy of reconciliation, -which attempts, through a criticism of the oppositions -of philosophical theory, to reach a point of view in which -they are all seen to be subordinated to the unity of one -principle. His attack upon the “law of contradiction,” -as formulated by scholastic logicians, meant simply -that absolute distinctions are unmeaning, and that the -only real differences are differences within a unity. On -this principle he tried to show that all the oppositions -of thought and things which have found expression in -philosophy are relative oppositions, which find a solution -or reconciliation in the life and movement of the -whole. Hence he maintained that in all the great controversies -that have divided the world, in metaphysics -and psychology, in ethics and theology, the combatants -have really been co-operators. Both sides, to use the -expression of Leibnitz, have been “right in what they -affirmed and wrong only in what they denied.” And -their conflict has been the means of the evolution of a -fuller truth than that which was contained in the doctrine -of either party. In the second place, Hegel is -guided throughout by the conception of the universe—and, -in a sense, of every even relatively independent existence -in it—as an organism, every element in which -implies the whole, every change in which is a phase of -its self-evolution. For his logical doctrine of the “<em>notion</em>” -(as <cite>Begriff</cite> is commonly translated) means simply -that we do not see anything truly until we comprehend -it as a whole, in which one principle manifests itself -through all the difference of the parts and—just through -their distinctions and their relations—binds itself into -one individual—reality. In this sense, everything just -so far as it has an independent individual existence at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156">156</a></span> -all is an organism. Lastly, while thus conceiving the -universe as organic, Hegel maintained that it is not a -natural but a spiritual organism. For the limited -scope of a natural organism and its process cannot be -regarded as commensurate with a universe, which comprehends -all existence, whether classed as organic or inorganic. -Only the conscious and self-conscious unity -of mind can overreach and overcome such extreme -antagonisms, and reduce them all to elements in the -realization of its own life. We must, therefore, think -of the universe as an organism which includes nature, -but manifests its ultimate principle only in the life of -man. We may add that in all this Hegel attempted to -show that he was only working out in the sphere of speculative -thought what Christianity had already expressed -for the ordinary consciousness, according to its half-pictorial -methods of representation.</p> - -<p>While this is the general meaning of Hegelianism, -it must be added that Hegel was more successful in formulating -these ideas in their logical or metaphysical form -than in applying them to the results of the special sciences -of nature, which he only knew at second hand; -or even to the different provinces of the spiritual life and -history of man, which he had studied more thoroughly. -In both cases his data were very incomplete, and the -scientific interpretation of them had not then been carried -far enough to prepare—as, according to Hegel himself, -it should prepare—for the final interpretation of philosophy. -There is another circumstance to be taken into -account, a circumstance which deeply affected Hegel -and all the writers of his time. In the slow process of -human history the new wine is always at first poured -into old bottles, and only when the old bottles burst is -an effort made to find new ones that will contain it -safely. Hence the development of the new spirit in -philosophy seemed often to go hand-in-hand with a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157">157</a></span> -movement of restoration in politics and religion which -was not easily distinguishable from reaction. Just as -the politicians of the time could find for the newly awakened -spirit of nationality no other embodiment than the -institutions of the ancient <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">régime</i>, and tried to revive the -old system destroyed by the Revolution, with only a few -repairs and additions, so the great philosophical writers -sought generally to reanimate the old scheme of life -and thought by means of the new ideas, rather than -completely to recast it in accordance with them. Hence, -although Hegel’s <em>principle</em> of evolution was as hostile -to reaction as to revolution, as hostile to an authoritative -system that denied the rights of the individual as to mere -individualism, his particular doctrines, both in politics -and theology, took a strongly conservative tinge. When -we look more closely we see that it is only as restoration -is at the same time reformation, as it makes the old -forms the expression of a new life, that Hegel could logically -defend them. But the form which he gave to his -ideas was perplexing; it tended in many minds to identify -the principle of development, which means that the -future can only spring <em>out</em> of the past and the present, -with the defence of the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">status quo</i> in Church and State; -and, on the other hand, to confuse the forces of progress -with those of revolution. Thus the mediating, reconciling -power of the new doctrine was for a time obscured, -and its effect in raising men’s minds above the old levels -of controversy was delayed.</p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>In other countries during the earlier decades of the -century a similar movement of thought is discernible, -though it was not carried out anywhere with the same -philosophical thoroughness as in Germany. In France -the organic idea did not find any very powerful representative<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158">158</a></span> -till the time of Comte, and even in his expression -of it there is a certain ambiguity. In his well-known -law of development, indeed, he seems to reproduce the -individualistic doctrine of the eighteenth century, and -to deny the reality of the <em>universal</em>, both in its theological -and its philosophical form. But already in the last volume -of his <cite>Positive Philosophy</cite>, when he begins to deal -with human society, he maintains that “the individual -man is an abstraction, and that there is nothing real -but humanity”; and in his <cite>Positive Politics</cite> he treats -this unity of mankind as not only real, but divine. -In that work, moreover, he makes another step. Rejecting -at once the obstructions of the individualists -and those of the socialists, he rises to the conception -of a social organism, which gives play to the competitive -energy of individuals, and yet binds them together -in its own more comprehensive life. In England, -before the close of the eighteenth century, the -same spirit had found a representative in Burke, -who rejected entirely the idea of a social contract, -and maintained that the State is based on an unconscious -reason of society, which is far wiser than -the conscious reason of even the wisest individuals. -In general, however, the spiritualistic movement of the -earlier part of the century took, among the English-speaking -people, rather a poetic and literary than a -philosophical form. And the imperfect attempts of Coleridge -to transplant German ideas into England—attempts -followed up with signal energy by Frederic Denison -Maurice—hardly constitute an exception to this rule. -In this connection, also, as one who partly grasped -the organic idea of social life and its development, but -who gave it a somewhat imperfect and even contradictory -expression, I may mention a later writer, Thomas -Carlyle, whose imaginative genius and moral enthusiasm -did much to breathe a new life into history.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159">159</a></span> -Though not a philosopher in any technical sense, he -was, like his friend Emerson, a vehicle of philosophical -ideas, and he contributed greatly to scatter the seed -of idealism upon British soil. His Calvinistic pessimism, -indeed, makes a curious contrast with the fearless -optimism of the new country which is characteristic of -Emerson; but whether great men are to be regarded -as “heroes to be worshipped,” according to the teaching -of the one, or as “representative men,” who are to be -followed because they express what all are thinking, -according to the ideas of the other, we are led, in both -cases, to a deeper view of the solidarity of human society -and of its spiritual basis.</p> - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>It is difficult to determine more than approximately -the beginning of special movements of thought; for -the different nations of the civilized world are not exactly -contemporaneous in their development, and in -each nation there are always individuals who lag behind -the time or hasten on before it. But, speaking generally, -we may say that as early as the fourth decade -of the century a certain reaction had set in against the -conclusions of idealistic philosophy, and especially -against the organic idea of human life; and a tendency -was even shown to revert, so far as possible, to the methods -and ideas of the eighteenth century. The reasons -for this change are various. In Germany the succession -of great philosophers had come to an end, and their -followers were smaller men, who were inclined too much -to repeat the formulas, but had little of the creative -power, of their predecessors. More attention, therefore, -began to be paid to the protests of writers like Herbart -and Schopenhauer, who, even in the hour of its triumph, -had criticised and attacked the prevailing philosophy.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160">160</a></span> -Again, the physical sciences were advancing by “leaps -and bounds,” and there was a growing inclination to -believe in the universal validity of the mechanical -methods of explanation to which <em>they</em> owed their success, -and even in those sociological and historical -studies to which the idealistic philosophy had given -so great an impetus. The progress of empirical research -and the increase of the materials of knowledge -caused much of the work of Hegel and his followers -to seem inadequate, if not entirely to set it aside. -Even in Germany, where the new ideas had taken a -distinctly philosophical shape, they seemed to lose their -hold in the controversies that attended the breaking -up of the Hegelian school; and in other countries, -where they never found such a systematic expression, -they were even less able to resist the attack now made -upon them. Furthermore, as I have already indicated, -writers of an idealistic tendency, in their recoil from -the enlightenment, had devoted themselves so much to -an appreciation of institutions derived from the past -that they seemed to have no eyes for the defects of -these institutions, and to confuse evolution with restoration.</p> - -<p>The general result of all these influences was, then, -to discredit philosophy and exalt science, so far as might -be, into its place. Either the abstract methods of the -physical sciences were proclaimed as adequate for the -discovery of all truth, or, if this was seen to be impossible, -agnosticism was professed in regard to all subjects to -which these methods could not be applied. Even the -phenomena of life were supposed to be capable of explanation -by the action and reaction of the parts or elements -of the physical organism, and Huxley looked -forward to the time when man with all his spiritual endowments -should be shown to be only the “cunningest -of nature’s clocks.” The new science of psychophysics,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161">161</a></span> -which arose in Germany and has been cultivated with so -much zeal by Wundt and others in all civilized countries, -seemed to carry the method of physics into the investigation -of mind, and some of its students were ready -to maintain that it was the only psychology that deserved -the name of science. Darwin’s great work on -the <cite>Origin of Species</cite>, in so far as it set aside the -idea of special creation and referred the “purposiveness” -of organic structures to a process in which the -external environment, and not any inward power of -self-adaptation, was the controlling factor, seemed to -bring a new reinforcement to the same way of thinking. -And he and his followers were not slow to apply the -theory of natural selection to the life of man, as well as -to that of plants and animals. Finally, the historical -studies, which were now cultivated with an energy to -an extent hitherto unexampled, and immensely extended -the knowledge of the process whereby the present has -grown out of the past, were invaded by a similar spirit; -and the historical method was maintained to be a solvent -which could disintegrate all metaphysical conceptions -of ethics or politics or even of theology. The account -of the genesis of any idea was regarded as reducing its -claims to the level of the elements or rudiments out of -which it had sprung, and thus as enabling the scientific -historian to explain, or explain away, the spiritual by -the natural in all human life and experience. All things -appeared again to be pointing towards a system of thought -which would resolve ethics and psychology into physiology, -and physiology into chemistry and physics.</p> - -<p>At the same time the victory of this tendency was -always more apparent than real. In the first place, -“out of the eater came forth meat”—that very advance -of the special sciences, which in its earlier stages had -tended to throw all speculative thought into the shade, -in the long run caused the need of philosophy to be again<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162">162</a></span> -felt. In particular, the study of development in the -organic world, which had received so great a stimulus -from the work of Darwin, could not be carried on without -the aid of higher conceptions than were required for the -guidance of the physicist. The hypothesis of natural -selection might expel the idea of design in the cruder -form of a special creation of every distinct species; and -the emphasis which it had laid upon the outward conditions -of growth might seem unfavorable to the higher -conception of an immanent teleology of the organism, -but it was confessed by its author to be an incomplete -theory of development, and Darwin himself, when he -turned his attention to the evolution of man, found it -necessary to supplement it by what might be called the -converse theory of sexual selection; thus adding a principle -of co-operation to his first principle of competition. -And Mr. Spencer, who defined growth as a process of -integration and differentiation, little as he might himself -intend it, was really putting into popular language the -Hegelian idea of evolution—an idea which necessarily -involved the conception of a self-determined end. Evolutionists -might cling, as they still cling, to the belief that, -though constantly and necessarily speaking of purpose, -they could eliminate it from the result of their investigations -by the hypothesis of Darwin, or, subsequently, -of Weissmann; but their discussions, especially when -they were extended to the historical development of man, -could not but reawaken the great controversy whether in -the <em>ultimate</em> explanation of things it is more reasonable -to “level up,” or to “level down,” to explain the higher -by the lower, or the lower by the higher. That both -explanations are necessary, nay, that no teleology can -be of much worth which does not presuppose a thorough -inquiry into the causal connections of particular phenomena, -was admitted by all modern idealists. But -they began to press the question whether the unity of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163">163</a></span> -the whole is not prior to its distribution into parts, and -does not govern their relations with each other; and, -in particular, whether it is possible in the case of organic -beings, and especially of organic beings possessed of -consciousness and self-consciousness, to be satisfied with -a mode of explanation that treats them as mere collections -of material elements which act and react externally -upon each other. Whatever its value as a provisional -hypothesis, can such a mode of explanation be finally -regarded as adequate for the explanation of the nature -of the world as a whole, or, indeed, of any one existence -in it, that has even a relative independence or separate -being of its own?</p> - -<p>But, in the second place, a revival of the idealistic -philosophy was made necessary by an obvious weakness -which clung to the scientific materialism of the -nineteenth century from the very beginning. The -Kantian criticism of knowledge, which could not be entirely -neglected, had convincingly proved that in our -experience objects can be known only in relation to a -subject, and matter only in relation to mind. But, if so, -how could the latter be explained by the former? Even -to those who had not fully understood this doctrine, it -became evident that mind is at least co-ordinate with -matter, and cannot be treated as a mere “<em>epiphenomenon</em>” -of it. Mr. Spencer, therefore, had to take refuge -in the strange notion that we are possessed of “two consciousnesses”: -the consciousness of ideas within us, and -the consciousness of motions without us; and that neither -of these can be resolved into the other, though both -are the phenomena of an unknowable Absolute. It is -in this citadel of ignorance that Huxley tries to intrench -himself; but the place was taken before it could be occupied. -The self-contradiction of an unknowable Absolute, -and the equal though less obvious self-contradiction -of a dualistic separation between two aspects of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164">164</a></span> -our life—which, as a matter of fact, are never, and logically -can never be, divided—could not long be maintained -against a criticism armed with the weapons of Kant and -his idealistic successors. Already, in the 50’s, the cry -“Back to Kant” was raised in Germany, and, not long -after, it led in England and America to a renewed study -of the German idealistic writers, in which Dr. Hutchison -Sterling and the late Professor Green took a leading -part. It was soon obvious to every one who had learned -the lesson of critical philosophy that the agnostic dualism -of Mr. Spencer was due to a fundamental misconception -of what is meant by the subjectivity of knowledge. -It was pointed out that if we have the consciousness -of object and subject only in relation to each other, -it is not necessary to seek for the principle of their unity -in any <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Tertium Quid</i> which is neither the one nor the -other. That which Mr. Spencer sought in an unknowable -Absolute was “in our mouths and in our hearts”; -it was to be found in the inseparable unity of experience, -in which the inward and the outward are correlative -elements. Agnosticism was a sort of spiritual refuge -for the destitute constructed by those who had renounced -their heritage: who, in other words, had by their abstractions -separated the elements of experience from -each other, and were thus forced to seek beyond experience -for the unity which they had lost. The true remedy -for the evil was to give up such abstract ways of -thinking and to learn to “think things together”; in -other words, to recognize the organic relation of the -inner and the outer life, and to explain the parts by the -whole, and not the whole by the artificially severed parts.</p> - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>The great distinguishing feature of the last two decades -of the century has been a movement of approximation,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165">165</a></span> -partly conscious and partly unconscious, between -the representatives of science, and particularly of those -sciences that deal with special aspects or elements of -human life, on the one hand, and the representatives of -idealistic philosophy on the other. The reconciling -ideas of an earlier time have become better understood -and have shown more effectively their power to reconcile. -Not that this mediating power had previously -been entirely unfelt. Even in the time when philosophy -was most discredited in Germany, Lotze, in whom a -cautious critical temper was combined with deep moral -and religious sympathies, and a practical knowledge -of the biological and medical sciences with careful -studies of Kant and Hegel, sought to show how an -idealistic view of the universe and of human life -could be maintained consistently with the fullest recognition -of scientific methods and results. And though -his system was, on the whole, rather a compromise than -a true reconciliation of philosophy and science, yet it -has undoubtedly had very great influence in modifying -the ideas of the opposing schools of thought and narrowing -the ground of controversy between them. Thus -the old English empirical psychology, which was represented -by the Mills and by Mr. Bain, has gradually -widened its scope in the hands of writers like Professor -Ward and Mr. Stout, at first probably through the study -of Herbart and then by contact with the revived idealistic -movement. On the other hand, we may notice how -idealistic writers, like Mr. Bradley and Mr. Bosanquet, -have tried to absorb every lesson that can be learned -from empiricism, and to shun with the utmost care the -very suspicion of anything like dogmatism. Mr. Bradley’s -denunciations of a “too easy monism” and a philosophy -that turns the living world into a “ballet of bloodless -categories” are too well known to be more than referred -to. Nor is this the place to discuss whether his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166">166</a></span> -fear of such a result has not sometimes led him into compromises -which are inconsistent with his own fundamental -principle that the world must be conceived as -an intelligible system. In any case, we may fairly point -to his work and to the work of other writers animated -by a similar spirit, as showing the growing prevalence -of that reconciling spirit which seeks at once to do justice -to all the results of empirical inquiry and of the investigations -of the special sciences, and yet at the same -time to give them a new interpretation in the light -of an idealistic philosophy. It is impossible within our -limits to illustrate this view of the tendencies of the -time by further reference to the recent philosophical -literature of England and America, or of Germany and -France. Still less can I refer to the numerous books on -special departments of inquiry in ethics and theology, -in sociology and in history, in which the “ideally organic -view of life and the world,” as we may call it, has -shown its mediating and reconciling influence. Nor -can I do more than refer to the counter current of pessimism, -which has found its most distinguished representatives -in Hartmann and Nietzsche; the former a -man of great wealth of thought and dialectical power, -whose philosophy is idealistic in all but its ultimate -principle, and is indeed pessimistic only by an exaggeration -of the opposition between the conscious and -the unconscious working of reason; the latter, hardly -a philosopher at all but rather a writer of pungent -and suggestive aphorisms, winged with indignant passion -against prevalent opinions—aphorisms which always -contradict some one, and often contradict each -other. From Nietzsche at his best we may receive a -useful warning against too easily satisfying ourselves -with the commonplaces of idealistic optimism; from -Hartmann we may derive very considerable help in estimating -the difficulties that have to be met by those<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167">167</a></span> -who would seek to work out idealistic principles into a -systematic view of the world. But, without attempting -to enter upon any more detailed criticism of these or -other important writers of recent years, I shall devote -the space that remains to one general thought as to the -present state of controversy, in relation to the fundamental -principles of philosophy.</p> - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>Ever since the revival of the study of Kant, the main -conflict in philosophy has ceased to lie between materialism -and idealism. It has rather become a conflict -between those who take up some position analogous -to that of Kant and those who seek to carry out the -idealistic principle to all its consequences. For the -essential characteristic of Kant’s position lay in his -sharp division between the spheres of knowledge and of -faith—between a knowledge which was confined to -phenomena and their connection in experience, and a -faith of practical reason, which reached beyond experience -to apprehend that which is noumenally real. Even -the agnosticism of Mr. Spencer might be regarded as -a modification of the Kantian point of view, in so far -as his denial of the possibility of knowing the absolute -is based on Mansel’s version of the Kantian antinomies; -while his description of the “vague consciousness” of -the absolute which he bids us worship may be regarded -as representing that faith which, in Kant’s view, enables -us to pierce the veil of the phenomena and grasp the ultimate -reality of things. And in the latter part of the century -there has been a continual germination of similar -theories, theories agreeing with the Kantian philosophy -at least in making some kind of dualistic division between -the sphere of clearly defined knowledge and the -sphere of ideal or spiritual faith, and also in confining<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168">168</a></span> -the former to phenomena while the latter is held to be -capable of rising in some way from the phenomenal to -the real. One of the earliest fruits of the Neo-Kantian -movement in Germany was Lange’s <cite>History of Materialism</cite>, -which insisted on the strictest interpretation -of the lesson of the <cite>Critique of Pure Reason</cite>, that -scientific knowledge is confined to the empirical and phenomenal, -but which maintained also the chartered freedom -of imagination to feed our hopes with the idea of a -world not realized, or realizable, under the conditions -of finite experience. And, with a different aim, but in -a similar spirit, Ritschl, borrowing some of his weapons -from Lotze, sought to take away from philosophy the -right to investigate the spiritual truths of religion, and -maintained that such truths were given in a kind of -intuition of faith which is above criticism and which -some of his followers identify, like Kant, with the demands -or postulates of the moral consciousness. Other -writers, following Schopenhauer, have sought to emancipate -the will from the intelligence and to give it an independent -power of estimating values. The great effort -to bring science and philosophy together—which, as -we have seen, has characterized the later years of the -century—has itself naturally given rise to many such -dualistic compromises, of which Lotze’s philosophy was -among the earliest. And it is partly to Lotze’s influence -that we owe the tendency, visible in some of the most -important recent contributions to philosophy, to regard -our actual experience as having an intuitive completeness -which is beyond all analysis, while reflective -thought on the other hand is conceived as having a -purely analytic and discursive operation, which can -grasp only the severed fragments of the given reality -and connect them externally to each other, but which -can never restore the organic whole again. Here, too, -we seem by another way to be landed in the same conclusion,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169">169</a></span> -viz., that we are perpetually poised between -an ideal which we cannot verify, but which yet is held -to be our only vision of reality, and a definite result of -knowledge, which only gives us what is abstract and -phenomenal. Yet it is difficult to understand how such -an organic idea of the universe can exist except for the -thinking intelligence, and how the thought that grasps it -can be separated from the discursive thought by which -the different elements of reality are brought into relation. -How, indeed, can there be any thought which is not -both discursive and intuitive at once, any thought which -connects the parts without resting upon the unity of -the whole to which they belong?</p> - -<p>All these different compromises are really different -forms of the Kantian dualism, but they supply convenient -cities of refuge for those who are unwilling to -admit that faith is but implicit reason, and that it is -always possible to translate its intuitions of truth into -explicit logic. There is much excuse, indeed, in many -cases for such unwillingness when we consider how -often reason has presented itself as purely a critical -or dissolving power, and how often abstract theories -which grasp only one aspect of things have been set -forth as complete explanations of religion or morality -or some other of the higher interests of life. It has always -to be kept in view that it is in something like immediate -perception that truth is given in the first instance, -and that philosophy, therefore, must always be in a -sense toiling after the intuitions of faith. Yet, on the -other hand, to hold that there is anywhere an abstract -division between the two is to hold that faith is essentially -irrational; it is to exalt it above reason in a way -that inevitably leads in the end to its being depressed -below reason. If, however, this view can be maintained -it must lead in the long run to the rejection of -all dualistic compromises. And there are already many<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170">170</a></span> -who hold that after the unstable equilibrium of the Kantian -theory has been shaken there is no secure standing-ground -for philosophy short of a thorough-going idealism. -Yet even they have learned by experience how dangerous -it is to snatch prematurely at the readiest idealistic interpretation -of facts; and they are aware how easy it is -to fall into a simple optimistic theory, which slurs over -difficulties instead of solving them. They know that if -Hegel or any one ever pretended, or could reasonably -be interpreted as pretending, to construe the universe -<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">a priori</i>, the pretence was futile, and that a true and -valuable idealism can be reached only through the interpretation -of the data of experience by the special -sciences, and the reinterpretation of the results of these -sciences by philosophy. They hold, in short, that if -the well-known saying of Hegel is to be taken for truth, -both of its clauses must be equally emphasized, and -that no philosophy can safely maintain that “what -is rational is actual” which has not gone through all -the effort that is necessary to prove that “what is actual -is rational.”</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">Edward Caird.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173">173</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="MEDICINE"></a>MEDICINE</h2> -</div> - -<h3>INTRODUCTION</h3> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">For</span> countless generations the prophets and kings of -humanity have desired to see the things which men -have seen, and to hear the things which men have heard -in the course of the wonderful nineteenth century. To -the call of the watchers on the towers of progress there -had been the one sad answer—the people sit in darkness -and in the shadow of death. Politically, socially, and -morally the race had improved, but for the unit, for the -individual, there was little hope. Cold philosophy shed -a glimmer of light on his path, religion in its various -guises illumined his sad heart, but neither availed to -lift the curse of suffering from the sin-begotten son of -Adam. In the fulness of time, long expected, long delayed, -at last Science emptied upon him from the horn of -Amalthea blessings which cannot be enumerated, blessings -which have made the century forever memorable; -and which have followed each other with a rapidity so -bewildering that we know not what next to expect. To -us in the medical profession, who deal with this unit, -and measure progress by the law of the greatest happiness -to the greatest number, to us whose work is with -the sick and suffering, the great boon of this wonderful -century, with which no other can be compared, is the -fact that the leaves of the tree of Science have been -for the healing of the nations. Measure as we may the -progress of the world—materially, in the advantages -of steam, electricity, and other mechanical appliances;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174">174</a></span> -sociologically, in the great improvement in the conditions -of life; intellectually, in the diffusion of education; -morally, in a possibly higher standard of ethics—there -is no one measure which can compare with the decrease -of physical suffering in man, woman, and child when -stricken by disease or accident. This is the one fact of -supreme personal import to every one of us. This is the -Promethean gift of the century to man.</p> - -<h3>THE GROWTH OF SCIENTIFIC MEDICINE</h3> - -<p>The century opened auspiciously, and those who were -awake saw signs of the dawn. The spirit of Science was -brooding on the waters. In England the influence of -John Hunter stimulated the younger men to the study -of the problems of anatomy and pathology. On the -Continent the great Boorhaave—the Batavian Hippocrates—had -taught correct ways in the study of the clinical -aspects of disease, and the work of Haller had given -a great impetus to physiology. The researches of Morgagni -had, as Virchow had remarked, introduced anatomical -thinking into medicine. But theories still controlled -practice. Under the teaching of Cullen, the old -idea that humors were the seat of disease had given place -to a neuro-pathology which recognized the paramount -influence of the nervous system in disease. His colleague -at Edinburgh, Brown, brought forward the attractive -theory that all diseases could be divided into two -groups, the one caused by excess of excitement—the -sthenic—the other by a deficiency—the asthenic—each -having its appropriate treatment, the one by depletion, -the other by stimulation. In a certain measure Hahnemann’s -theory of homœopathy was a reaction against -the prevalent theories of the day, and has survived -through the century, though in a much modified form. -Some of his views were as follows:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175">175</a></span> -“The only vocation of the physician is to heal; theoretical -knowledge is of no use. In a case of sickness he -should only know what is curable and the remedies. Of -the diseases he cannot know anything except the symptoms. -There are internal changes, but it is impossible -to learn what they are; symptoms alone are accessible; -with their removal by remedies the disease is removed. -Their effects can be studied in the healthy only. They -act on the sick by causing a disease similar to that which -is to be combated, and which dissolves itself into this -similar affection. The full doses required to cause -symptoms in the well are too large to be employed as -remedies for the sick. The healing power of a drug -grows in an inverse proportion to its substance. He -says, literally: ‘Only potencies are homœopathic medicines.’ -‘I recognize nobody as my follower but him -who gives medicine in so small doses as to preclude the -perception of anything medicinal in them by means either -of the senses or of chemistry.’ ‘The pellets may be held -near the young infant when asleep.’ ‘Gliding the hand -over the patient will cure him, provided the manipulation -is done with firm intention to render as much good with -it as possible, for its power is in the benevolent will of the -manipulator.’ Such is the homœopathy of Hahnemann, -which is no longer recognized in what they call homœopathy -to-day.”—(<span class="smcap">A. Jacobi.</span>)</p> - -<p>The awakening came in France. In 1801 Bichat, a -young man, published a work on general anatomy, in -which he placed the seat of disease, not in the organs, -but in the tissues or fabrics of which they were composed, -which gave an extraordinary impetus to the investigation -of pathological changes. Meanwhile, the -study of the appearances of organs and bodies when -diseased (morbid anatomy), which had been prosecuted -with vigor by Morgagni in the eighteenth century, had -been carried on actively in Great Britain and on the Continent,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176">176</a></span> -and the work of Broussais stimulated a more accurate -investigation of local disorders. The discovery -by Laennec of the art of auscultation, by which, through -changes in the normal sounds within the chest, various -diseases of the heart and lungs could be recognized, gave -an immense impetus to clinical research. The art of percussion, -discovered by Avenbrugger in the eighteenth -century, and reintroduced by Corvisart, contributed not a -little to the same. Laennec’s contributions to the study of -diseases of the lungs, of the heart, and of the abdominal -organs really laid the foundation of modern clinical -medicine. A little later Bright published his researches -on diseases of the kidneys, from which we date our knowledge -of this important subject. One of the most complicated -problems of the first half of the century related -to the differentiation of the fevers. The eruptive fevers, -measles, scarlet fever, and small-pox, were easily recognized, -and the great group of malarial fevers was well -known; but there remained the large class of continued -fevers, which had been a source of worry and dispute -for many generations. Louis clearly differentiated typhoid -fever, and by the work of his American pupils, -W. W. Gerhard and Alfred Stillé, of Philadelphia, and -George B. Shattuck, of Boston, typhus and typhoid fevers -were defined as separate and independent affections. -Relapsing fever, yellow fever, dengue, etc., were also -distinguished. The work of Graves and Stokes, of -Dublin, of Jenner and Budd, in England, of Drake, Dickson, -and Flint, in America, supplemented the labors of -the French physicians, and by the year 1860 the profession -had reached a sure and safe position on the question -of the clinical aspects of fevers.</p> - -<p>The most distinguishing feature of the scientific medicine -of the century has been the phenomenal results -which have followed <em>experimental investigations</em>. While -this method of research is not new, since it was introduced<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177">177</a></span> -by Galen, perfected by Harvey, and carried on by -Hunter, it was not until well into the middle of the century -that, by the growth of research laboratories, the -method exercised a deep influence on progress. The -lines of experimental research have sought to determine -the functions of the organs in health, the conditions under -which perversion of these functions occur in diseases, -and the possibility of exercising protective and curative -influences on the processes of disease.</p> - -<p>The researches of the physiological laboratories have -enlarged in every direction our knowledge of the great -functions of life—digestion, assimilation, circulation, -respiration, and excretion. Perhaps in no department -have the results been more surprising than in the growth -of our knowledge of the functions of the brain and nerves. -Not only has experimental science given us clear and -accurate data upon the localization of certain functions -of the brain and of the paths of sensatory and of motor -impulses, but it has opened an entirely new field in the -diagnosis and treatment of the diseases of these organs, -in certain directions of a most practical nature, enabling -us to resort to measures of relief undreamed of even thirty -years ago.</p> - -<p>The study of physiology and pathology within the past -half-century has done more to emancipate medicine from -routine and the thraldom of authority than all the work -of all the physicians from the days of Hippocrates to -Jenner, and we are as yet but on the threshold.</p> - -<h3>THE GROWTH OF SPECIALISM</h3> - -<p>The restriction of the energies of trained students to -narrow fields in science, while not without its faults, has -been the most important single factor in the remarkable -expansion of our knowledge. Against the disadvantages -in a loss of breadth and harmony there is the compensatory<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178">178</a></span> -benefit of a greater accuracy in the application -of knowledge in specialism, as is well illustrated in -the cultivation of special branches of practice. Diseases -of the skin, of the eye, of the ear, of the throat, of -the teeth, diseases of women and of children, are now -studied and practised by men who devote all their time -to one limited field of work. While not without minor -evils, this custom has yielded some of the great triumphs -of the profession. Dentistry, ophthalmology, and gynæcology -are branches which have been brought to a state -of comparative perfection, and very largely by the labors -of American physicians. In the last-named branch the -blessings which have been brought to suffering women -are incalculable, not only as regards the minor ailments -of life, but in the graver and more critical accidents to -which the sex is liable.</p> - -<p>One of the most remarkable and beneficial reforms of -the century has been in the attitude of the profession -and the public to the subject of insanity, and the gradual -formation of a body of men in the profession who labor -to find out the cause and means of relief of this most distressing -of all human maladies. The reform movement -inaugurated by Tuke in England, by Rush in the United -States, by Pinel and Esquirol in France, and by Jacobi -and Hasse in Germany, has spread to all civilized countries, -and has led not only to an amelioration and improvement -in the care of the insane, but to a scientific -study of the subject which has already been productive -of much good. In this country, while the treatment of -the insane is careful and humanitarian, the unfortunate -affiliation of insanity with politics is still in many States -a serious hinderance to progress.</p> - -<p>It may be interesting to take a glance at the state of -medicine in this country at the opening of the nineteenth -century. There were only three schools of medicine, the -most important of which were the University of Pennsylvania<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179">179</a></span> -and the Harvard. There were only two general -hospitals. The medical education was chiefly in the -hands of the practitioners, who took students as apprentices -for a certain number of years. The well-to-do students -and those wishing a better class of education went -to Edinburgh or London. There were only two or three -medical journals, and very few books had been published -in the country, and the profession was dependent -entirely upon translations from the French and upon -English works. The only medical libraries were in connection -with the Pennsylvania Hospital and the New -York Hospital. The leading practitioners in the early -years were Rush and Physick, in Philadelphia; Hossack -and Mitchill, in New York; and James Jackson and -John Collins Warren, in Boston. There were throughout -the country, in smaller places, men of great capabilities -and energy, such as Nathan Smith, the founder -of the Medical Schools of Dartmouth and of Yale, and -Daniel Drake in Cincinnati. After 1830 a remarkable -change took place in the profession, owing to the leaven -of French science brought back from Paris by American -students. Between 1840 and 1870 there was a great increase -in the number of medical schools, but the general -standard of education was low—lower, indeed, than -had ever before been reached in the medical profession. -The private schools multiplied rapidly, diplomas were -given on short two-year sessions, and nothing contributed -more to the degeneration of the profession than -this competition and rivalry between ill-equipped medical -schools. The reformation, which started at Harvard -shortly after 1870, spread over the entire country, -and the rapid evolution of the medical school has been -one of the most striking phenomena in the history of -medicine in the century. University authorities began -to appreciate the fact that medicine was a great department -of knowledge, to be cultivated as a science and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180">180</a></span> -promoted as an art. Wealthy men felt that in no better -way could they contribute to the progress of the race -than by the establishment of laboratories for the study -of disease and hospitals for the care of the sick poor. -The benefactions of Johns Hopkins, of Sims, of Vanderbilt, -of Pierpont Morgan, of Strathcona, of Mount-Stephen, -of Payne, and of Levi C. Lane and others have -placed scientific medicine on a firm basis.</p> - -<h3>THE GROWTH OF PREVENTIVE MEDICINE</h3> - -<p>Sanitary science, hygiene, or preventive medicine -may claim to be one of the brightest spots in the history -of the nineteenth century. Public hygiene was -cultivated among the Egyptians, and in the Mosaic law -it reached a remarkable organization. The personal hygiene -of the Greeks was embraced in the saying, “The -fair mind in the fair body,” and the value of exercise and -training was fully recognized. The Romans, too, in public -and private hygiene, were our superiors in the matter -of water supply and baths. But modern sanitary -science has a much wider scope and is concerned with -the causes of disease quite as much as with the conditions -under which these diseases prevail. The foundations of -the science were laid in the last century with Jenner’s -discovery of vaccination. Howard, too, had grasped -the association of fever with overcrowding in the jails, -while the possibility of the prevention of scurvy had -been shown by Captain Cook and by Sir Gilbert Blaine.</p> - -<p>Preventive medicine was a blundering, incomplete science -until bacteriology opened unheard-of possibilities -for the prevention of disease. Before discussing some -of the victories of preventive medicine it will be well to -take a brief survey of the growth of the following subject:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181">181</a></span></p> - -<h3>SCIENCE OF BACTERIOLOGY</h3> - -<p>From the brilliant overthrow by Pasteur, in 1861, and -by Koch and Cohn, in 1876, of the theory of spontaneous -generation, we may date its modern growth. Wrapped -up in this theory of spontaneous generation, upon which -speculation raged centuries before the invention of the -microscope, lies the history of bacteriology.</p> - -<p>The ancient Greek and Roman philosophers wrestled -with the question, and very interesting views of the relation -of germ life to disease are preserved to us in their -manuscripts. With the invention of the microscope we -can mark the first positive step towards the goal of to-day. -A Jesuit priest, Kircher, in 1671, was the first to -investigate putrefying meat, milk, and cheese with the -crude microscope of his day, and left us indefinite remarks -concerning “very minute living worms” found -therein. Four years after Kircher a Dutch linen merchant, -Antonius von Leeuwenhoek, by improving the -lenses of the microscope, saw in rain-water, putrefying -fluids, intestinal contents, and saliva, minute, moving, -living particles, which he called “animalculæ.” In -medical circles of his day these observations aroused -the keenest interest, and the theory that these “animalculæ” -might be the cause of all disease was eagerly -discussed. Pleincz, of Vienna, after much observation -of various fluids, putrefying and otherwise, wrote in 1762 -that it was his firm belief that the phenomena of diseases -and the decomposition of animal fluids were wholly -caused by these minute living things.</p> - -<p>Notwithstanding such assertions, from his day on -until Pasteur, Koch, and Cohn finally proved its misconceptions -in 1876, the theory of spontaneous generation -held the upper hand in all discussions upon the question.</p> - -<p>The stimulus to research as to the causes of disease -along the line of bacterial origin did not entirely cease to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182">182</a></span> -be felt, and the names of Pollender and Davaine are -linked together in the first undoubted discovery of micro-organisms -in disease, when the cause of anthrax, a -disease of cattle, was solved in 1863. Following closely -upon Davaine’s researches, the primary causes of wound -infection were worked out, and to the efforts of the British -surgeon Lister are due the great advances of modern -surgery.</p> - -<p>In rapid succession the presence of bacteria was clearly -demonstrated in relapsing fever, leprosy, and typhoid -fever; but far eclipsing all former discoveries, on account -of the magnitude of the difficulties encountered and overcome, -were the brilliant demonstrations of the cause of -consumption and allied diseases, and that of Asiatic -cholera, by Dr. Robert Koch in 1882 and in 1884 respectively.</p> - -<p>From that time onward innumerable workers have -satisfied the critical scientific world as to the causes of -pneumonia, diphtheria, tetanus, influenza, and bubonic -plague, besides many diseases of cattle, horses, sheep, -and other animals and insects.</p> - -<p>Having glanced hastily at the history of bacteriology, -we may next consider some facts concerning the germs -themselves. What are they? To the lay mind the -words germ, microbe, bacterium, and bacillus often convey -confused ideas of invisible, wriggling, worm-like -creatures, enemies of mankind, ever on the watch to -gain a stealthy entrance into our bodies, where they -wreak harm and death. Scientifically considered, however, -they are the smallest of living things yet known. -They are not animals, but are members of the vegetable -kingdom, and are possessed of definite yet varying shapes. -They consist of a jelly-like substance called protoplasm, -which is covered in and held in place by a well-formed -membrane of a relatively hard and dense character, exactly -similar in composition to the woody fibre of trees.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183">183</a></span> -According to their shape the bacteria are divided into -three chief groups, called respectively cocci, bacilli, and -spirilla. The cocci are spherical bodies and may exist -singly or in pairs, in fours, in clusters, or in chains. In -this group we find the smallest bacteria known, many of -them not over 1-150,000 of an inch in diameter. The -bacilli are rod-like bodies, varying much in size in different -species and in members of the same species. They -are larger than the cocci, measuring in length from -1-25,000 of an inch to 1-4000, and in breadth from -1-125,000 to 1-16,000 of an inch. Many varieties are -possessed of organs of locomotion called flagella.</p> - -<p>The spirilla resemble the bacilli, except that they are -twisted into corkscrew shapes, or have gently undulating -outlines. Upon an average they are much longer -than the bacilli, one species being very long, measuring -about 1-600 of an inch. As seen in the natural state -bacteria are found to be colorless, but it is by the application -of various aniline dyes that they are usually -studied. These minute plants increase by a simple -method of division into two equal parts, or by a more -complex process of forming a seed—the so-called spore—which -later on develops into the adult form. Under favorable -conditions they are able to multiply at an enormous -rate; for instance, it has been calculated that a -bacillus dividing once every hour would at the end of -twenty-four hours have increased to seventeen millions; -and if the division continued at the same rate we should -find at the end of the third day an incalculable number -of billions, whose weight would be nearly seven thousand -five hundred tons!</p> - -<p>But, fortunately for our welfare, nature by various -means renders the possibility of such a happening entirely -beyond the slightest chance of realization, her -greatest barrier being the lack of an adequate food supply.</p> - -<p>The distribution in nature of bacteria is wellnigh universal,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184">184</a></span> -occurring as they do in the air we breathe, the -water and milk we drink, upon the exposed surfaces of -man and animals, and in their intestinal tracts, and in -the soil to a depth of about nine feet. But it has been -noted that at very high altitudes and in glacier ice none -exist, while in the Arctic regions and at sea far from -land their numbers are very few.</p> - -<p>The conditions governing their growth involve many -complex problems, but a few of the chief factors concerned -are moisture, air, food, temperature, and light. -All bacteria must have moisture, else they die sooner or -later, depending upon the hardness of the species, and -none can multiply without it. A supply of air is by no -means essential to all germs. To some it is absolutely -necessary, and such germs are called aerobes. To -others air is wholly detrimental, and they constitute the -anaerobes, while to the majority of bacteria air supply is -a matter of indifference, and in consequence they are -grouped under the term facultative anaerobes.</p> - -<p>The food supply of many consists of dead animal and -vegetable materials, a few require living tissues, while -a small number can exist wholly upon mineral salts, or -even the nitrogen of the air. The lowest temperature at -which some bacteria can multiply is the freezing-point -of water, and the highest 170 degrees Fahrenheit. However, -the average range of temperature suitable to the -majority lies between 60 and 104 degrees Fahrenheit, -98 2-5 degrees Fahrenheit being the most suitable for -the growth of disease-producing germs. Light, ordinarily -diffused daylight, or its absence, is a matter of no -moment to most germs, whereas direct sunlight is a destroyer -of all bacteria.</p> - -<p>The study of the life histories of these diminutive -plants excites the wonder of those who make observations -upon them. It is truly marvellous to know that -these bacteria can accomplish in their short lives of possibly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185">185</a></span> -a few hours or days feats which would baffle the -cleverest of chemists if given years of a lifetime to work -upon. They give to the farmer the good quality of his -crops, to the dairyman superior butter and cheese; they -assist in large measure in freeing our rivers and lakes -from harmful pollutions. Here it should be strongly -emphasized that those bacteria which cause disease are -only of a few species, all others contributing to our welfare -in countless ways.</p> - -<p>Quite as astonishing is the discovery that within the -root-knobs of pease and beans live bacteria which by -splitting up mineral salts containing nitrogen, and by -absorbing nitrogen from the air, give it over to the plant -so that it is enabled to grow luxuriantly, whereas, without -their presence, the tiller of the soil might fertilize the -ground in vain. It is quite possible that not alone pease -and beans, but all grasses and plants and trees depend -upon the presence of such germs for their very existence, -which in turn supply man and animals with their means -of existence. Hence we see that these nitrifying bacteria, -as they are called, if swept out of existence, would -be the cause of cessation of all life upon the globe. And -arguing backward, one prominent authority states it as -his belief that the first of all life on this earth were those -lowly forms of plants which only required the nitrogen -of air or salts to enable them to multiply.</p> - -<p>Limiting observation now to the sphere of medicine, -it will be readily perceived that the presence of bacterial -life in a causative relation to disease is an object of paramount -regard. The following paragraphs will briefly -treat of the diseases associated with micro-organisms -and the common modes of infection in each, the chain of -events subsequent to an infection, and the possibilities -of protection or cure by means of substances elaborated -in the body of an individual or animal recently recovered -from an infectious disease:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186">186</a></span> -<dfn>Anthrax.</dfn>—A disease chiefly of cattle and sheep, occasionally -of man, is caused by the <i>Bacillus anthracis</i>, -discovered in 1849–50 by Pollender and Davaine. It -enters the body through abrasions of the skin, by inhalation -of the spores, or seeds, into the lungs, or by -swallowing infected material.</p> - -<p><dfn>Leprosy.</dfn>—This disease is caused by a bacillus known -as <i>Bacillus leprae</i>, which was discovered by Hansen in -1879. It is doubtful if it has been grown outside the -body. It is supposed to enter by abrasions of the skin, -but it is very feebly contagious, notwithstanding popular -ideas as to its supposedly highly contagious nature.</p> - -<p><dfn>Tuberculosis.</dfn>—All forms of this disease, among which -is ordinary consumption, are caused by a bacillus closely -resembling that of leprosy. It was discovered by -Koch in 1880–82, and named <i>Bacillus tuberculosis</i>. The -ways of infection are by inhaling the dried sputum of -consumptives, drinking infected cow’s milk, or eating -infected meat.</p> - -<p><dfn>Typhoid Fever.</dfn>—A disease of human beings only. -Eberth in 1880 discovered the germ causing it and called -it <i>Bacillus typhosus</i>. It gains entrance to our bodies -chiefly in the milk and water we drink, which comes -from infected sources; a rarer method is by inhalation -of infected air.</p> - -<p><dfn>Diphtheria.</dfn>—A disease of human beings chiefly. It -is caused by a bacillus which was described in 1883–84 -by Klebs and Loeffler, and is known as <i>Bacillus diphtheriae</i>, -or Klebs-Loeffler bacillus. Its mode of entry -is by inhaling infected air, or by drinking or eating infected -milk or food.</p> - -<p><dfn>Cholera.</dfn>—This disease is peculiar to human beings. -Its native home is on the banks of the river Ganges in -India, where Koch in 1884 was able to isolate its causative -spirillum. Man is infected by drinking contaminated -water or by contact.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187">187</a></span> -<dfn>Lockjaw, or Tetanus.</dfn>—Afflicts man, horses, and dogs. -The <i>Bacillus tetani</i> is the most deadly of all known bacteria. -It enters the body by wounds. It was discovered -in 1884 by Nicolaier.</p> - -<p><dfn>Influenza, or the Grip.</dfn>—Caused by one of the smallest-known -bacilli; discovered in 1892 by Canon and Pfeiffer. -Infection spreads by the scattering about by air-currents -of the dried nasal and bronchial secretion of those -suffering from the disease, and its portal of entry is by -the nose and bronchial tubes.</p> - -<p><dfn>Pneumonia.</dfn>—Caused by a coccus which grows in -pairs and small chains. It enters the body by means -of the respiratory tract. It is present in the saliva of -twenty per cent. of healthy persons. Proved by Frankel -in 1886 to be the cause of this disease.</p> - -<p><dfn>Bubonic Plague.</dfn>—In 1894 Kitasato and Yersin isolated -a small bacillus in a large number of cases and -proved it to be the cause. It enters the body by means -of wounds of the skin, and through bites of fleas from infected -rats, which are said to be one of the chief factors -in spreading this dread malady.</p> - -<p><dfn>Yellow Fever.</dfn>—The cause of this disease is still under -discussion.</p> - -<p>Such are a few of the infectious diseases which we can -readily attribute to the presence of definite micro-organisms -in respective cases. But strange as it may seem, -the most typical of all infectious diseases, small-pox, -scarlet fever, measles, and hydrophobia, have as yet not -yielded up their secrets. This is possibly due to the minute -size of the micro-organisms concerned, which make -it beyond the power of the best microscope to demonstrate -them. In this connection it has recently been -shown by Roux and Nocard that in the case of the disease -known as pleuro-pneumonia of cattle the causative -agent is so very small as just to be barely visible. Again, -it is quite possible that these diseases may be caused by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188">188</a></span> -living things we know nothing about, which may be -quite dissimilar from the bacteria.</p> - -<h3>INFECTION—ITS PROCESSES AND RESULTS</h3> - -<p>In the foregoing list of diseases associated with specific -bacteria, attention has been drawn to the common modes -of infection, or, as they are technically called, “portals -of entry,” and it now remains to touch upon the main -factors, processes, and results following upon the entry -into the body of such disease-producing microbes.</p> - -<p>It is a well-known fact that the normal blood has of -itself to a considerable extent the power of killing germs -which may wander into it through various channels. -Likewise the tissue cells of the body in general show -similar action depending upon the different cell groups, -state of health, general robustness, and period of life. -The germ-killing power varies in different individuals, -though each may be quite healthy. Considered as a -whole, this power possessed by the body against germs -is known as “general resistance.” And when by any -means this power of resistance is lost or diminished, we -run grave risks of incurring disease.</p> - -<p>Granted a case of infection, let us now trace up briefly -what occurs. Between the period when the bacteria -gain a lodgment and that in which the disease assumes -a noticeable form, the patient simply feels out of sorts. -It is during this stage that the blood and tissues are -deeply engaged in the attempt to repel the attacks of the -invading microbes.</p> - -<p>With varying speed the germs multiply throughout -the body generally, or may be at first localized, or even, -as in lockjaw, remain localized throughout the entire -disease. Multiplying in the tissues, they generate in increasing -amounts their noxious poisons, which soon -cause profound changes throughout the body; the patient<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189">189</a></span> -becomes decidedly ill, and shows now the signs of -an unmistakable infection.</p> - -<p>Does the body now give up the fight entirely? No; on -the contrary, the white blood-cells, the wandering cells, -and the cells of the tissues most affected still carry on an -unequal fight. From the lymphatic glands and spleen, -armies of white cells rush to the fray and attempt to eat -up and destroy the foe, but possibly in vain; the disease -runs its course, to end either in death or recovery.</p> - -<p>How, then, in cases of recovery, are the microbes finally -overcome?</p> - -<p>This question involves many complex processes which -at present are by no means thoroughly understood, but -we will concern ourselves with the simple principles.</p> - -<p>It has been previously mentioned that once the bacteria -get a good foothold the body is subjected to the -action of generated poisons, which are known as toxins. -They give rise to such symptoms as loss of appetite, -headache, fever, pains and aches, and even a state of -stupor or unconsciousness. In addition to the active -warfare of the white blood-cells, groups of cells throughout -the body, after recovering from the first rude shock -of the toxins, begin to tolerate their presence, then effect -a change in the chemical constitution of the toxins, and -finally elaborate substances which antagonize the toxins -and destroy their action altogether, thus lending aid -to the warrior cells, which at last overcome the invading -microbes. Recovery is brought about, and a more or -less permanent degree of immunity against the special -form of disease ensues.</p> - -<p>Now if we could use these antagonizing substances, -or, as they are called, antitoxins, upon other men or -animals sick with a similar disease, would their bodies -be at once strengthened to resist and finally overcome -the disease? Yes, in a certain majority of cases they -would, and this is exactly what scientific observers have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190">190</a></span> -noted, worked out, and have successfully applied. A -new art in the healing of disease, which is spoken of -broadly as serum-therapy, or medication by curative or -protective serums, has thus been discovered.</p> - -<p>The first observers in this new field were Pasteur and -Raynaud in France in 1877–78, and Salmon and Smith -in this country in 1886. Raynaud, by injecting serum -from a calf which had had an attack of cow-pox, prevented -the appearance of the disease in a calf freshly -inoculated with the virulent material of the disease. -Pasteur, by using feebly infective germs of fowl cholera, -conferred immunity upon healthy fowls against -the disease, and was able to cure those which were ill. -Salmon and Smith injected small and repeated amounts -of the elaborated toxins or poisons of the bacillus of -hog cholera into healthy swine, and were able to confer -immunity upon them.</p> - -<p>However, it was not until Behring in 1892 announced -his discovery of an antitoxin serum for diphtheria, -along with an undisputed proof of its value in treatment, -that the attention of the scientific world was finally -aroused and stimulated to the appreciation of the great -possibilities of serum-therapy.</p> - -<p>Strange as it may seem, much opposition arose to -this new method of treatment, not alone from the lay -portions of the community, but even from the ranks -of the medical profession itself. This opposition was -due in part to misconceptions of the principles involved -in the new doctrine, and in part to the falsely philanthropic -prejudices of the pseudo-scientific sections of -both parties. But by the persevering work of the enthusiastic -believers in serum-therapy, positive conviction -has now replaced misconception and prejudice in -the minds of the majority of its former opponents.</p> - -<p>The accumulation of statistical evidence, even where -all allowance is made for doubtful methods of compilation,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191">191</a></span> -shows that the aggregate mortality of diphtheria -has been reduced fully fifty per cent. since the introduction -of antitoxic treatment by Behring in 1892.</p> - -<p>Since the method of preparation of the commercial -diphtheria antitoxin illustrates the general principles -involved in the search for the production of curative -or protective serums for infectious diseases in general, -a summary of the steps in its manufacture will now be -given.</p> - -<p>A race of diphtheria bacilli, which has been found to -yield a poison of great virulence in alkaline beef broth, -is grown for a week or ten days in this medium. The -toxin is then separated and its virulence exactly determined. -It is preserved in sterile receptacles for immediate -or future use. The next step is the inoculation -of a suitable animal with the toxin. Of all animals -the horse has been found to meet nearly every requirement. -Such an animal, in a state of perfect health, -receives an injection of twenty cubic centimetres of -toxin, along with ten or fifteen of standard antitoxin, -beneath the skin of the neck or fore-quarters, upon three -separate occasions at intervals of five days. After this -it receives increasing doses of toxin, alone, at intervals -of six to eight days, until, at the end of two months, it -is able to stand with little discomfort doses of such -strength that if given in the first stage these doses -would have quickly caused death.</p> - -<p>At this period the horse is bled to a small extent, and -its serum tested to ascertain if prospects are good for -the production by the animal of a high grade of antitoxin. -If satisfactory progress has been made, the injections -are continued for another month, when, as a -rule, the maximal degree of antitoxic power in the serum -will have been attained.</p> - -<p>The horse is now bled to the proper extent, the blood -being received in a sterile jar and placed in an ice-box.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192">192</a></span> -Here it coagulates, and the serum separates from it. -When the separation of clot and serum is complete, the -latter is drawn off, taken to the laboratory, and standardized. -This being finished, an antiseptic fluid is -added to preserve the serum from decomposition. It is -then bottled, labelled, and sent out for use.</p> - -<p>In similar fashion tetanus antitoxin is prepared; and -quite recently Calmette has produced an antitoxic serum -for use in snake bite, by injecting horses with minute -increasing doses of snake venom. His experiments -have given some remarkable results, not only -in laboratory work, but also in cases of actual snake -bite occurring in man. Thus bacteriological scientists, -after years of laborious work, in the face of much criticism -and severe denunciation, may confidently announce -that they have in their possession a magic key -to one of nature’s secret doors. The lock has been -turned. The door stands partly open, and we are permitted -a glimpse of the future possibilities to be attained -in the great fight against disease.</p> - -<h3>PREVENTIVE MEDICINE</h3> - -<p>The following are some of the diseases which have -been remarkably controlled through preventive medicine:</p> - -<p><dfn>Small-pox.</dfn>—While not a scourge of the first rank, -like the plague or cholera, at the outset of the century -variola was one of the most prevalent and dreaded of -all diseases. Few reached adult life without an attack. -To-day, though outbreaks still occur, it is a disease -thoroughly controlled by vaccination. The protective -power of the inoculated cow-pox is not a fixed and constant -quantity. The protection may be for life, or it -may last only for a year or two. The all-important -fact is this: That efficiently vaccinated persons may<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193">193</a></span> -be exposed with impunity, and among large bodies of -men (<i>e.g.</i>, the German army), in which revaccination -is practised, small-pox is unknown. Of one hundred -vaccinated persons exposed to small-pox, possibly one -might take the disease in a mild form; of one hundred -unvaccinated persons so exposed, one alone might escape—from -twenty-five to thirty would die. To be -efficient, vaccination must be carried out systematically, -and if all the inhabitants of this country were revaccinated -at intervals small-pox would disappear (as it has -from the German army), and the necessity for vaccination -would cease. The difficulty arises from the constant -presence of an unvaccinated remnant, by which -the disease is kept alive. The Montreal experience in -1885 is an object-lesson never to be forgotten.</p> - -<p>For eight or ten years vaccination had been neglected, -particularly among the French-Canadians. On February -28, 1885, a Pullman car conductor, who came -from Chicago, where the disease had been slightly prevalent, -was admitted into the Hôtel Dieu. Isolation -was not carried out, and on the 1st of April a servant -in the hospital died of small-pox. Following her death -the authorities of the hospital sent to their homes all -patients who presented no symptoms of the disease. -Like fire in dry grass the contagion spread, and within -nine months there died of small-pox three thousand one -hundred and sixty-four persons. It ruined the trade -of the city for the winter, and cost millions of dollars. -There are no reasonable objections to vaccination, which -is a simple process, by which a mild and harmless disease -is introduced. The use of the animal vaccine does -away with the possibility of introduction of other disorders, -such as syphilis.</p> - -<p><dfn>Typhus Fever.</dfn>—Until the middle of the present century -this disease prevailed widely in most of the large -cities, particularly in Europe, and also in jails, ships,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194">194</a></span> -hospitals, and camps. It was more widely spread than -typhoid fever and much more fatal. Murchison remarks -of it that a complete history of its ravages would -be the history of Europe during the past three centuries -and a half. Not one of the acute infections seems to -have been more dependent upon filth and unsanitary -conditions. With the gradual introduction of drainage -and a good water supply, and the relief of overcrowding, -the disease has almost entirely disappeared, and is rarely -mentioned now in the bills of mortality, except in a few -of the larger and more unsanitary cities. The following -figures illustrate what has been done in England within -sixty years: In 1838 in England twelve hundred and -twenty-eight persons died of fever (typhus and typhoid) -per million of living. Twenty years later the figures -were reduced to nine hundred and eighteen; in 1878 to -three hundred and six of typhoid and to thirty-six of -typhus fever. In 1892 only one hundred and thirty-seven -died of typhoid fever and only three of typhus per -million living!</p> - -<p><dfn>Typhoid Fever.</dfn>—While preventive medicine can claim -a great victory in this disease also, it is less brilliant, -since the conditions which favor its prevalence are not -those specially relating to overcrowding as much as to -imperfect water supply and the contamination of certain -essential foods, as milk. It has been repeatedly demonstrated -that, with a pure water supply and perfect drainage, -typhoid fever almost disappears from a city. In -Vienna, after the introduction of good water, the rate of -mortality from typhoid fever fell from twelve per ten -thousand of the inhabitants to about one. In Munich -the fall was still more remarkable; from above twenty-nine -per ten thousand inhabitants in 1857 it fell to about -one per ten thousand in 1887. That typhoid fever -in this country is still a very prevalent disease depends -mainly upon two facts: First, not only is the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195">195</a></span> -typhoid bacillus very resistant, but it may remain for -a long time in the body of a person after recovery from -typhoid fever, and such persons, in apparent good health, -may be a source of contamination. With many of the -conditions favoring the persistence and growth of the -bacillus outside the body we are not yet familiar. The -experience in the Spanish-American War illustrates -how dangerous is the concentration together of large -numbers of individuals. But, second, the essential -factor in the widespread prevalence of typhoid fever in -the United States, particularly in country districts, is -the absence of anything like efficient rural sanitation. -Many counties have yet to learn the alphabet of sanitation. -The chief danger results from the impure water -supplies of the smaller towns, the local house epidemics -due to infected wells, and the milk outbreaks due to the -infection of dairy farms.</p> - -<p>The importance of scrupulously guarding the sources of -supply was never better illustrated than in the well-known -and oft-quoted epidemic in Plymouth, Pennsylvania. -The town, with a population of eight thousand, was in -part supplied with drinking-water from a reservoir fed by -a mountain-stream. During January, February, and -March, in a cottage by the side of and at a distance of -from sixty to eighty feet from this stream, a man was ill -with typhoid fever. The attendants were in the habit at -night of throwing out the evacuations on the ground towards -the stream. During these months the ground was -frozen and covered with snow. In the latter part of March -and early in April there was considerable rainfall and a -thaw, in which a large part of the three months’ accumulation -of discharges was washed into the brook not sixty -feet distant. At the very time of this thaw the patient -had numerous and copious discharges. About the 10th -of April cases of typhoid fever broke out in the town, appearing -for a time at the rate of fifty a day. In all about<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196">196</a></span> -twelve hundred were attacked. An immense majority of -the cases were in the part of the town which received -water from the infected reservoir.</p> - -<p>The use of boiled water and of ice made from distilled -water, the systematic inspection of dairies, the scrupulous -supervision of the sources from which the water is -obtained, an efficient system of sewage removal, and, -above all, the most scrupulous care on the part of physicians -and of nurses in the disinfection of the discharges -of typhoid fever patients—these are the factors necessary -to reduce to a minimum the incidence of typhoid fever.</p> - -<p><dfn>Cholera.</dfn>—One of the great scourges of the present -century made inroads into Europe and America from -India, its native home. We have, however, found out -the germ, found out the conditions under which it lives, -and it is not likely that it will ever again gain a foothold -in this country or Great Britain. Since the last epidemic, -1873, the disease, though brought to this country on several -occasions, has always been held in check at the port -of entry. It is communicated almost entirely through -infected water, and the virulence of an epidemic in any -city is in direct proportion to the imperfection of the water -supply. This was shown in a remarkable way in the -Hamburg epidemic of 1892. In Altona, which had a -filtration plant, there were only five hundred and sixteen -cases, many of them refugees from Hamburg. Hamburg, -where the unfiltered water of the Elbe was used, -had some eighteen thousand cases, with nearly eight -thousand deaths.</p> - -<p><dfn>Yellow Fever.</dfn>—The cause of this disease is still under -discussion. It has an interest to us in this country -from its continued prevalence in Cuba, and from the -fact that at intervals it makes inroads into the Southern -States, causing serious commercial loss. The history -of the disease in the other West India islands, particularly -Jamaica, indicates the steps which must be taken<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197">197</a></span> -for its prevention. Formerly yellow fever was as fatal -a scourge in them as it is to-day in Cuba. By an efficient -system of sanitation it has been abolished. The -same can be done (and will be done) in Cuba within a -few years. General Wood has already pointed out the -way in the cleansing of Santiago.</p> - -<p><dfn>The Plague.</dfn>—One of the most remarkable facts in -connection with modern epidemics has been the revival -of the bubonic plague, the most dreaded of all the great -infections. During the present century the disease in -Europe has been confined almost exclusively to Turkey -and Southern Europe. Since 1894, when it appeared -at Hong-Kong, it has gradually spread, and there have -been outbreaks of terrible severity in India. It has extended -to certain of the Mediterranean ports, and during -the past summer it reached Glasgow, where there has -been a small outbreak. On this hemisphere there have -been small outbreaks in certain of the South American -ports, cases have been brought to New York, and there -have been to November 1st twenty-one cases among the -Chinese in San Francisco. Judging from the readiness -with which it has been checked and limited in Australia, -and in particular the facility with which the recent outbreak -in Glasgow has been stamped out, there is very -little risk that plague will ever assume the proportions -which gave to it its terrible reputation as the “black -death” of the Middle Ages. As I have already mentioned, -the germ is known, and prophylactic inoculations -have been made on a large scale in India, with a -certain measure of success.</p> - -<p><dfn>Tuberculosis.</dfn>—In all communities the <em>white plague</em>, -as Oliver Wendell Holmes calls it, takes the first rank -as a killing disease. It has been estimated that of it -one hundred and twenty thousand people die yearly in -this country. In all mortality bills tuberculosis of the -lungs, or consumption, heads the list, and when to this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198">198</a></span> -is added tuberculosis of the other organs, the number -swells to such an extent that this disease equals in -fatality all the other acute infective diseases combined, -if we leave out pneumonia. Less than twenty years ago -we knew little or nothing of the cause of the disease. -It was believed to be largely hereditary. Koch discovered -the germ, and with this have come the possibilities -of limiting its ravages.</p> - -<p>The following points with reference to it may be stated: -In a few very rare instances the disease is transmitted -from parent to child. In a large proportion of all cases -the disease is “caught.” The germs are widely distributed -through the sputum, which, when dry, becomes -dust, and is blown about in all directions. Tubercle -bacilli have been found in the dust of streets, houses, -hospital wards, and much-frequented places. A single -individual may discharge from the lungs countless -myriads of germs in the twenty-four hours. Dr. Nuttall -estimated from a patient in the Johns Hopkins Hospital, -who had only moderately advanced consumption, that -from one and a half to four and a third billions of germs -were thrown off in the twenty-four hours. The consumptive, -as has been well stated, is almost harmless, -and only becomes harmful through bad habits. The -germs are contained in the sputum, which, when dry, -is widely scattered in the form of dust, and constitutes -the great medium for the transmission of the disease. -If expectorated into a handkerchief, the sputum dries -quickly, particularly if it is put into the pocket or under -the pillow. The beard or mustache of a consumptive is -smeared with the germs. Even in the most careful the -hands are apt to be soiled with the germs, and in those -who are dirty and careless the furniture and materials -which they handle readily become infected. Where -the dirty habit prevails of spitting on the floor, a -room, or the entire house, may contain numbers of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199">199</a></span> -germs. In the majority of all cases the infection in tuberculosis -is by inhalation. This is shown by the frequency -with which the disease is met in the lungs, -and the great prevalence of tuberculosis in institutions -in which the residents are restricted in the matter of -fresh air and a free, open life. The disease prevails -specially in cloisters, in jails, and in asylums. Infection -through milk is also possible; it is doubtful whether -the disease is transmitted through meat. So widespread -are the germs that post-mortem examination has shown -that a very large number of persons show slight signs -of the disease who have never during life presented any -symptoms; in fact, some recent investigations would -indicate that a very large proportion of all persons at -the age of forty have somewhere in their bodies slight -tuberculous lesions. This shows the importance of the -individual predisposition, upon which the older writers -laid so much stress, and the importance of maintaining -the nutrition at its maximum.</p> - -<p>One of the most remarkable features of modern protective -medicine is the widespread interest that has been -aroused in the crusade against tuberculosis. What has -already been accomplished warrants the belief that the -hopes of even the most enthusiastic may be realized. A -positive decline in the prevalence of the disease has been -shown in many of the larger cities during the past ten -years. In Massachusetts, which has been a hot-bed of -tuberculosis for many years, the death-rate has fallen -from forty-two per ten thousand inhabitants in 1853 to -twenty-one and eight-tenths per ten thousand inhabitants -in 1895. In the city of Glasgow, in which the -records have been very carefully kept, there has been an -extraordinary fall in the death-rate from tuberculosis, -and the recent statistics of New York City show, too, a -similar remarkable diminution.</p> - -<p>In fighting the disease our chief weapons are: First,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200">200</a></span> -education of the public, particularly of the poorer classes, -who do not fully appreciate the chief danger in the disease. -Secondly, the compulsory notification and registration -of all cases of tuberculosis. The importance -of this relates chiefly to the very poor and improvident, -from whom, after all, comes the greatest danger, and -who should be under constant surveillance in order that -these dangers may be reduced to a minimum. Thirdly, -the foundation in suitable localities by the city and by -the State of sanatoria for the treatment of early cases -of the disease. Fourthly, provision for the chronic, incurable -cases in special hospitals.</p> - -<p><dfn>Diphtheria.</dfn>—Since the discovery of the germ of this -disease and our knowledge of the conditions of its transmission, -and the discovery of the antitoxin, there has -been a great reduction in its prevalence and an equally -remarkable reduction in the mortality. The more careful -isolation of the sick, the thorough disinfection of the -clothing, the rigid scrutiny of the milder cases of throat -disorder, a more stringent surveillance in the period of -convalescence, and the routine examination of the -throats of school-children—these are the essential measures -by which the prevalence of the disease has been -very markedly diminished. The great danger is in the -mild cases, in which the disease has perhaps not been -suspected, and in which the child may be walking about -and even going to school. Such patients are often a -source of widespread infection. The careful attention -given by mothers to the teeth and mouth of children is -also an important factor. In children with recurring -attacks of tonsillitis, in whom the tonsils are enlarged, -the organs should be removed. Through these measures -the incidence of the disease has been very greatly -reduced.</p> - -<p><dfn>Pneumonia.</dfn>—While there has been a remarkable diminution -in the prevalence of a large number of all the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201">201</a></span> -acute infections, one disease not only holds its own, but -seems even to have increased in its virulence. In the -mortality bills, pneumonia is an easy second to tuberculosis. -It attacks particularly the intemperate, the -feeble, and the old, though every year a large number -of robust, healthy individuals succumb. So frequent -is pneumonia at advanced periods of life that to die of it -has been said to be the natural end of old men in this country. -In many ways, too, it is a satisfactory disease, if -one may use such an expression. It is not associated -with much pain, except at the onset, the battle is brief -and short, and a great many old persons succumb to it -easily and peacefully.</p> - -<p>We know the cause of the disease; we know only too -well its symptoms, but the enormous fatality (from -twenty to twenty-five per cent.) speaks only too plainly -of the futility of our means of cure, and yet in no disease -has there been so great a revolution in treatment. The -patient is no longer drenched to death with drugs, or -bled to a point where the resisting powers of nature are -exhausted. We are not without hope, too, that in the -future an antidote may be found to the toxins of the disease, -and of late there have been introduced several -measures of great value in supporting the weakness of -the heart, a special danger in the old and debilitated.</p> - -<p><dfn>Hydrophobia.</dfn>—Rabies, a remarkable, and in certain -countries a widespread, disease of animals, when transmitted -to a man by the bite of rabid dogs, wolves, -etc., is known as hydrophobia. The specific germ is -unknown, but by a series of brilliant observations Pasteur -showed (1) that the poison has certain fixed and peculiar -properties in connection with the nervous system; (2) -that susceptible animals could be rendered refractory -to the disease, or incapable of taking it, by a certain -method of inoculation; and (3) that an animal unprotected -and inoculated with a dose of the virus sufficient<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202">202</a></span> -to cause the disease may, by the injection of proper anti-rabic -treatment, escape. Supported by these facts, -Pasteur began a system of treatment of hydrophobia in -man, and a special institute was founded in Paris for -the purpose. When carried out promptly the treatment -is successful in an immense majority of all cases, and -the mortality in persons bitten by animals proved to be -rabid, who have subsequently had the anti-rabic treatment, -has been reduced to less than one-half per cent. -The disease may be stamped out in dogs by careful -quarantine of suspected animals, and by a thoroughly -carried out muzzling order.</p> - -<p><dfn>Malaria.</dfn>—Among the most remarkable of modern discoveries -is the cause of malarial fever, one of the great maladies -of the world, and a prime obstacle to the settlement -of Europeans in tropical regions. Until 1880 the cause was -quite obscure. It was known that the disease prevailed -chiefly in marshy districts, in the autumn, and that the -danger of infection was greatest in the evening and at -night, and that it was not directly contagious. In 1880 a -French army surgeon, Laveran, discovered in the red -blood-corpuscles small bodies which have proved to be the -specific germ of the disease. They are not bacteria, but -little animal bodies resembling the amœba—tiny little -portions of protoplasm. The parasite in its earliest form -is a small, clear, ring-shaped body inside the red blood-corpuscle, -upon which it feeds, gradually increasing in -size and forming within itself blackish grains out of the -coloring matter of the corpuscle. When the little parasite -reaches a certain size it begins to divide or multiply, -and an enormous number of these breaking up at the -same time give off poison in the blood, which causes the -paroxysms of fever. During what is known as the chill, -in the intermittent fever, for example, one can always -find these dividing parasites. Several different forms -of the parasites have been found, corresponding to different<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203">203</a></span> -varieties of malaria. Parasites of a very similar -nature exist abundantly in birds. Ross, an army surgeon -in India, found that the spread of this parasite -from bird to bird was effected through the intervention -of the mosquito. The parasites reach maturity in certain -cells of the coats of the stomach of these insects, -and develop into peculiar thread-like bodies, many of -which ultimately reach the salivary glands, from which, -as the insect bites, they pass with the secretion of the -glands into the wound. From this as a basis, numerous -observers have worked out the relation of the mosquito -to malaria in the human subject.</p> - -<p>Briefly stated, the disease is transmitted chiefly by -certain varieties of the mosquito, particularly the <i>Anopheles</i>. -The ordinary <i>Culex</i>, which is present chiefly in -the Northern States, does not convey the disease. The -<i>Anopheles</i> sucks the blood from a person infected with -malaria, takes in a certain number of parasites, which -undergo development in the body of the insect, the final -outcome of which is numerous small, thread-like structures, -which are found in numbers in the salivary glands. -From this point, when the mosquito bites another individual, -they pass into his blood, infect the system, -and in this way the disease is transmitted. Two very -striking experiments may be mentioned. The Italian -observers have repeatedly shown that <i>Anopheles</i> which -have sucked blood from patients suffering from malaria, -when sent to a non-malarial region, and there allowed -to bite perfectly healthy persons, have transmitted the -disease. But a very crucial experiment was made a -short time ago. Mosquitoes which had bitten malarial -patients in Italy were sent to London and there allowed -to bite Mr. Manson, son of Dr. Manson, who really suggested -the mosquito theory of malaria. This gentleman -had not lived out of England, and there is no acute -malaria in London. He had been a perfectly healthy,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204">204</a></span> -strong man. In a few days following the bites of the infected -mosquitoes he had a typical attack of malarial -fever.</p> - -<p>The other experiment, though of a different character, -is quite as convincing. In certain regions about Rome, -in the Campania, malaria is so prevalent that in the -autumn almost every one in the district is attacked, particularly -if he is a new-comer. Dr. Sambron and a friend -lived in this district from the 1st of June to the 1st of -September, 1900. The test was whether they could live -in this exceedingly dangerous climate for the three -months without catching malaria, if they used stringent -precautions against the bites of mosquitoes. For this -purpose the hut in which they lived was thoroughly -wired, and they slept with the greatest care under netting. -Both of these gentlemen at the end of the period had escaped -the disease.</p> - -<p>The importance of these studies cannot be overestimated. -They explain the relation of malaria to marshy -districts, the seasonal incidence of the disease, the nocturnal -infection, and many other hitherto obscure problems. -More important still, they point out clearly the -way by which malaria may be prevented: First, the -recognition that any individual with malaria is a source -of danger in a community, so that he must be thoroughly -treated with quinine; secondly, the importance of the -draining of marshy districts and ponds in which mosquitoes -breed; and, thirdly, that even in the most infected -regions persons may escape the disease by living in -thoroughly protected houses, in this way escaping the -bites of mosquitoes.</p> - -<p><dfn>Venereal Diseases.</dfn>—These continue to embarrass the -social economist and to perplex and distress the profession. -The misery and ill-health which they cause are -incalculable, and the pity of it is that the cross is not -always borne by the offender, but innocent women and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205">205</a></span> -children share the penalties. The gonorrhœal infection, -so common, and often so little heeded, is a cause of much -disease in parts other than those first affected. Syphilis -claims its victims in every rank of life, at every age, and -in all countries. We now treat it more thoroughly, but -all attempts to check its ravages have been fruitless. -Physicians have two important duties: the incessant -preaching of continence to young men, and scrupulous -care, in every case, that the disease may not be a source -of infection to others, and that by thorough treatment -the patient may be saved from the serious late nervous -manifestations. We can also urge that in the interests -of public health venereal diseases, like other infections, -shall be subject to supervision by the State. The opposition -to measures tending to the restriction of these -diseases is most natural: on the one hand, from women, -who feel that it is an aggravation of a shocking injustice -and wrong to their sex; on the other, from those who -feel the moral guilt in a legal recognition of the evil. It -is appalling to contemplate the frightful train of miseries -which a single diseased woman may entail, not alone -on her associates, but on scores of the innocent—whose -bitter cry should make the opponents of legislation -feel that any measures of restriction, any measures of -registration, would be preferable to the present disgraceful -condition, which makes of some Christian cities open -brothels and allows the purest homes to be invaded by -the most loathsome of all diseases.</p> - -<p><dfn>Leprosy.</dfn>—Since the discovery of the germ of this terrible -disease systematic efforts have been made to improve -the state of its victims and to promote the study -of the conditions under which the disease prevails. The -English Leprosy Commission has done good work in -calling attention to the widespread prevalence of the -disease in India and in the East. In this country leprosy -has been introduced into San Francisco by the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206">206</a></span> -Chinese, and into the Northwestern States by the Norwegians, -and there are foci of the disease in the Southern -States, particularly Louisiana, and in the province -of New Brunswick. The problem has an additional interest -since the annexation of Hawaii and the Philippine -Islands, in both of which places leprosy prevails extensively. -By systematic measures of inspection and the -segregation of affected individuals the disease can readily -be held in check. It is not likely ever to increase among -native Americans, or again gain such a foothold as it -had in the Middle Ages.</p> - -<p><dfn>Puerperal Fever.</dfn>—Perhaps one of the most striking -of all victories of preventive medicine has been the almost -total abolition of so-called child-bed fever from the -maternity hospitals and from private practice. In many -institutions the mortality after child-birth was five or -six per cent., indeed sometimes as high as ten per cent., -whereas to-day, owing entirely to proper antiseptic -precautions, the mortality has fallen to three-tenths to -four-tenths per cent. The recognition of the contagiousness -of puerperal fever was the most valuable contribution -to medical science made by Oliver Wendell Holmes. -There had been previous suggestions by several writers, -but his essay on the “Contagiousness of Puerperal -Fever,” published in 1843, was the first strong, clear, -logical statement of the case. Semmelweis, a few years -later, added the weight of a large practical experience -to the side of the contagiousness, but the full recognition -of the causes of the disease was not reached until the -recent antiseptic views had been put into practical effect.</p> - -<h3>THE NEW DISPENSATION IN TREATMENT</h3> - -<p>The century has witnessed a revolution in the treatment -of disease, and the growth of a new school of medicine. -The old schools—regular and homœopathic—<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207">207</a></span>put -their trust in drugs, to give which was the alpha and -the omega of their practice. For every symptom there -were a score or more of medicines—vile, nauseous compounds -in one case; bland, harmless dilutions in the -other. The new school has a firm faith in a few good, -well-tried drugs, little or none in the great mass of medicines -still in general use. Imperative drugging—the -ordering of medicine in any and every malady—is no -longer regarded as the chief function of the doctor. Naturally, -when the entire conception of the disease was -changed, there came a corresponding change in our therapeutics. -In no respect is this more strikingly shown -than in our present treatment of fever—say, of the common -typhoid fever. During the first quarter of the century -the patients were bled, blistered, purged and vomited, -and dosed with mercury, antimony, and other compounds -to meet special symptoms. During the second -quarter, the same, with variations in different countries. -After 1850 bleeding became less frequent, and the experiments -of the Paris and Vienna schools began to shake -the belief in the control of fever by drugs. During the -last quarter sensible doctors have reached the conclusion -that typhoid fever is not a disease to be treated with -medicines, but that in a large proportion of all cases -diet, nursing, and bathing meet the indications. There -is active, systematic, careful, watchful treatment, but not -with drugs. The public has not yet been fully educated -to this point, and medicines have sometimes to be ordered -for the sake of the friends, and it must be confessed that -there are still in the ranks <em>antiques</em> who would insist on -a dose of some kind every few hours.</p> - -<p>The battle against poly-pharmacy, or the use of a -large number of drugs (of the action of which we know -little, yet we put them into bodies of the action of which -we know less), has not been fought to a finish. There -have been two contributing factors on the side of progress—the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208">208</a></span> -remarkable growth of the skeptical spirit -fostered by Paris, Vienna, and Boston physicians, and, -above all, the valuable lesson of homœopathy, the infinitesimals -of which certainly could not do harm, and -quite as certainly could not do good; yet nobody has -ever claimed that the mortality among homœopathic practitioners -was greater than among those of the regular -school. A new school of practitioners has arisen which -cares nothing for homœopathy and less for so-called -allopathy. It seeks to study, rationally and scientifically, -the action of drugs, old and new. It is more concerned -that a physician shall know how to apply the few -great medicines which all have to use, such as quinine, -iron, mercury, iodide of potassium, opium, and digitalis, -rather than a multiplicity of remedies the action of which -is extremely doubtful.</p> - -<p>The growth of scientific pharmacology, by which we -now have many active principles instead of crude drugs, -and the discovery of the art of making medicines palatable, -have been of enormous aid in rational practice. There -is no limit to the possibility of help from the scientific -investigation of the properties and action of drugs. At -any day the new chemistry may give to us remedies of -extraordinary potency and of as much usefulness as -cocaine. There is no reason why we should not even -in the vegetable world find for certain diseases specifics -of virtue fully equal to that of quinine in the malarial -fevers.</p> - -<p>One of the most striking characteristics of the modern -treatment of disease is the return to what used to be -called the natural methods—diet, exercise, bathing, and -massage. There probably never has been a period in -the history of the profession when the value of <em>diet</em> in -the prevention and the cure of disease was more fully -recognized. Dyspepsia, the besetting malady of this -country, is largely due to improper diet, imperfectly prepared<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209">209</a></span> -and too hastily eaten. One of the great lessons to -be learned is that the preservation of health depends in -great part upon food well cooked and carefully eaten. -A common cause of ruined digestion, particularly in -young girls, is the eating of sweets between meals and -the drinking of the abominations dispensed in the chemists’ -shops in the form of ice-cream sodas, etc. Another -frequent cause of ruined digestion in business men is -the hurried meal at the lunch-counter. And a third -factor, most important of all, illustrates the old maxim, -that more people are killed by over eating and drinking -than by the sword. Sensible people have begun to realize -that alcoholic excesses lead inevitably to impaired health. -A man may take four or five drinks of whiskey a day, or -even more, and thinks perhaps that he transacts his -business better with that amount of stimulant; but it -only too frequently happens that early in the fifth decade, -just as business or political success is assured, Bacchus -hands in heavy bills for payment, in the form of serious -disease of the arteries or of the liver, or there is a general -breakdown. With the introduction of light beer there -has been not only less intemperance, but a reduction in -the number of the cases of organic disease of the heart, -liver, and stomach caused by alcohol. While temperance -in the matter of alcoholic drinks is becoming a -characteristic feature of Americans, intemperance in the -quantity of food taken is almost the rule. Adults eat -far too much, and physicians are beginning to recognize -that the early degenerations, particularly of the -arteries and of the kidneys, leading to Bright’s disease, -which were formerly attributed to alcohol, are due in -large part to too much food.</p> - -<p><dfn>Nursing.</dfn>—Perhaps in no particular does nineteenth-century -practice differ from that of the preceding centuries -more than in the greater attention which is given -to the personal comfort of the patient and to all the accessories<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210">210</a></span> -comprised in the art of nursing. The physician -has in the trained nurse an assistant who carries -out his directions with a watchful care, and who is on -the lookout for danger-signals, and with accurate notes -enables him to estimate the progress of a critical case -from hour to hour. The intelligent, devoted women -who have adopted the profession of nursing, are not -only in their ministrations a public benefaction, but they -have lightened the anxieties which form so large a part -of the load of the busy doctor.</p> - -<p><dfn>Massage and Hydrotherapy</dfn> have taken their places as -most important measures of relief in many chronic conditions, -and the latter has been almost universally adopted -as the only safe means of combating the high temperatures -of the acute fevers.</p> - -<p>Within the past quarter of a century the value of <em>exercise</em> -in the education of the young has become recognized. -The increase in the means of taking wholesome -out-of-door exercise is remarkable, and should show in -a few years an influence in the reduction of the nervous -troubles in young persons. The prophylactic benefit of -systematic exercise, taken in moderation by persons of -middle age, is very great. Golf and the bicycle have in -the past few years materially lowered the average incomes -of the doctors in this country as derived from persons -under forty. From the senile contingent—those -above this age—the average income has for a time been -raised by these exercises, as a large number of persons -have been injured by taking up sports which may be -vigorously pursued with safety only by those with young -arteries.</p> - -<p>Of three departures in the art of healing, brief mention -may be made. The use of the extracts of certain organs -(or of the organs themselves) in disease is as old as the -days of the Romans, but an extraordinary impetus has -been given to the subject by the discovery of the curative<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211">211</a></span> -powers of the extract of the thyroid gland in the diseases -known as cretinism and myxœdema. The brilliancy -of the results in these diseases has had no parallel in the -history of modern medicine, but it cannot be said that in -the use of the extracts of other organs for disease the results -have fulfilled the sanguine expectations of many. -There was not, in the first place, the same physiological -basis, and practitioners have used these extracts too indiscriminately -and without sufficient knowledge of the -subject.</p> - -<p>Secondly, as I have already mentioned, we possess -a sure and certain hope that for many of the acute infections -antitoxins will be found.</p> - -<p>A third noteworthy feature in modern treatment has -been a return to psychical methods of cure, in which -<em>faith in something is suggested</em> to the patient. After all, -faith is the great lever of life. Without it, man can do -nothing; with it, even with a fragment, as a grain of -mustard-seed, all things are possible to him. Faith in -us, faith in our drugs and methods, is the great stock in -trade of the profession. In one pan of the balance, put -the pharmacopœias of the world, all the editions from -Dioscorides to the last issue of the United States Dispensatory; -heap them on the scales as did Euripides -his books in the celebrated contest in the “Frogs”; in -the other put the simple faith with which from the -days of the Pharaohs until now the children of men have -swallowed the mixtures these works describe, and the -bulky tomes will kick the beam. It is the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">aurum potabile</i>, -the touchstone of success in medicine. As Galen says, -confidence and hope do more good than physic—“he -cures most in whom most are confident.” That strange -compound of charlatan and philosopher, Paracelsus, -encouraged his patients “to have a good faith, a strong -imagination, and they shall find the effects” (Burton). -While we often overlook or are ignorant of our own faith-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212">212</a></span>cures, -doctors are just a wee bit too sensitive about those -performed outside our ranks. They have never had, -and cannot expect to have, a monopoly in this panacea, -which is open to all, free as the sun, and which may make -of every one in certain cases, as was the Lacedemon of -Homer’s day, “a good physician out of Nature’s grace.” -Faith in the gods or in the saints cures one, faith in little -pills another, hypnotic suggestion a third, faith in a -plain, common doctor a fourth. In all ages the prayer of -faith has healed the sick, and the mental attitude of the -suppliant seems to be of more consequence than the -powers to which the prayer is addressed. The cures in -the temples of Æsculapius, the miracles of the saints, the -remarkable cures of those noble men, the Jesuit missionaries, -in this country, the modern miracles at Lourdes -and at St. Anne de Beaupré in Quebec, and the wonder-workings -of the so-called Christian Scientists, are often -genuine, and must be considered in discussing the foundations -of therapeutics. We physicians use the same -power every day. If a poor lass, paralyzed, apparently, -helpless, bed-ridden for years, comes to me, having worn -out in mind, body, and estate a devoted family; if she in a -few weeks or less by faith in me, and faith alone, takes -up her bed and walks, the saints of old could not have -done more. St. Anne and many others can scarcely to-day -do less. We enjoy, I say, no monopoly in the faith -business. The faith with which we work, the faith, indeed, -which is available to-day in every-day life, has its -limitations. It will not raise the dead; it will not put in -a new eye in place of a bad one (as it did to an Iroquois -Indian boy for one of the Jesuit fathers), nor will it cure -cancer or pneumonia, or knit a bone; but, in spite of these -nineteenth-century restrictions, such as we find it, faith -is a most precious commodity, without which we should -be very badly off.</p> - -<p><dfn>Hypnotism</dfn>, introduced by Mesmer in the eighteenth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213">213</a></span> -century, has had several revivals as a method of treatment -during the nineteenth century. The first careful study of -it was made by Braid, a Manchester surgeon, who introduced -the terms hypnotism, hypnotic, and nervous sleep; -but at this time no very great measure of success followed -its use in practice, except perhaps in the case of an Anglo-Indian -surgeon, James Esdaile, who, prior to the introduction -of anæsthesia, had performed two hundred -and sixty-one surgical operations upon patients in a state -of hypnotic unconsciousness. About 1880 the French -physicians, particularly Charcot and Bernheim, took -up the study, and since that time hypnotism has been -extensively practised. It may be defined as a subjective -psychical condition, what Braid called nervous sleep, resembling -somnambulism, in which, as Shakespeare says, -in the description of Lady Macbeth, the person receives at -once the benefit of sleep and does the effects or acts of -watching or waking. Therapeutically, the important fact -is that the individual’s natural susceptibility to suggestion -is increased, and this may hold after the condition of hypnosis -has passed away. The condition of hypnosis is -usually itself induced by suggestion, requesting the -subject to close the eyes, to think of sleep, and the operator -then repeats two or three times sentences suggesting -sleep, and suggesting that the limbs are getting heavy -and that he is feeling drowsy. During this state it has -been found that the subjects are very susceptible to suggestion. -Too much must not be expected of hypnotism, -and the claims which have been made for it have been -too often grossly exaggerated. It seems, as it has been -recently well put, that hypnotism “at best permits of -making suggestions more effective for good or bad than -can be done upon one in his waking state.” It is found -to be of very little use in organic disease. It has been -helpful in some cases of hysteria, in certain functional -spasmodic affections of the nervous system, in the vicious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214">214</a></span> -habits of childhood, and in suggesting to the victims of -alcohol and drugs that they should get rid of their inordinate -desires. It has been used successfully in certain -cases for the relief of labor pains, and in surgical operations; -but on the whole, while a valuable agent in a few -cases, it has scarcely fulfilled the expectations of its advocates. -It is a practice not without serious dangers, -and should never be performed except in the presence of -a third person, and its indiscriminate practice by ignorant -persons should be prevented by law.</p> - -<p>One mode of faith-healing in modern days, which passes -under the remarkable name of Christian Science, is probably -nothing more than mental suggestion under another -name. “The patient is told to be calm, and is assured -that all will go well; that he must try to aid the healer -by believing that what is told him is true. The healer -then, quietly but firmly, asserts and reiterates that -there is no pain, no suffering, that it is disappearing, -that relief will come, that the patient is getting well.” -This is precisely the method which Bernheim used to -use with such success in his hypnotic patients at Nancy, -iterating and reiterating, in a most wearisome way, that -the disease would disappear and the patient would feel -better. As has been pointed out by a recent writer (Dr. -Harry Marshall), the chief basis for the growth of Christian -Science is that which underlies every popular fallacy: -“Oliver Wendell Holmes outlined very clearly the -factors concerned, showing (a) how easily abundant -facts can be collected to prove anything whatsoever; -(b) how insufficient ‘exalted wisdom, immaculate honesty, -and vast general acquirements’ are to prevent an -individual from having the most primitive ideas upon -subjects out of his line of thought; and, finally, demonstrating -‘the boundless credulity and excitability of -mankind upon subjects connected with medicine.’”</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">William Osler.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217">217</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="SURGERY"></a>SURGERY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> end of the eighteenth century was made notable -by one of the most remarkable and beneficent -discoveries which has ever blessed the human race, -the discovery of the means of preventing small-pox. -On May 14, 1796, Dr. Edward Jenner inoculated James -Phipps. When we remember that two million persons -died in a single year in the Russian Empire from -small-pox; that in 1707 in Iceland, out of a population -of thirty thousand, sixty per cent., or eighteen -thousand, died; that in Jenner’s time “an adult person -who had not had small-pox was scarcely met with or heard -of in the United Kingdom, and that owing to his discovery -small-pox is now one of the rarest diseases,” the strong -words I have used seem fully justified. But the eighteenth -century was not to witness the end of progress -in medicine. The advances in the nineteenth century -have been even more startling and more beneficent. -What these advances have been in the department of -medicine has been related by Professor Osler. It is my -province to speak only of surgery.</p> - -<h3>METHOD OF TEACHING</h3> - -<p>The first advance which should be mentioned is a -fundamental one—namely, methods of medical teaching. -At the beginning of the nineteenth century there were -only three medical schools in the United States: the Medical -Department of the University of Pennsylvania, established<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218">218</a></span> -in 1765; the Medical Department of Harvard, -established in 1783; and the Medical Department of Dartmouth, -established in 1797. The last report of the Commissioner -of Education gives a list of one hundred and -fifty-five medical schools now in existence in this country, -many of them still poorly equipped and struggling for existence, -but a large number of them standing in the first -rank, with excellent modern equipment, both in teachers, -laboratories, hospitals, and other facilities. The medical -curriculum then extended over only two years or less, -and consisted of courses of lectures at the most by seven -professors who, year after year, read the same course -of lectures, without illustrations and with no practical -teaching. The medical schools, even when connected -with universities, were practically private corporations, -the members of which took all the fees, -spent what money they were compelled to spend in -the maintenance of what we now should call the semblance -of an education, and divided the profits. Until -within about twenty years this method prevailed in -all our medical schools. But the last two decades of -the century have seen a remarkable awakening of the -medical profession to the need of a broader and more -liberal education, and that, as a prerequisite, the medical -schools should be on the same basis as the department -of arts in every well-regulated college. To accomplish -this the boards of trustees have taken possession of -the fees of students, have placed the faculties upon salaries, -and have used such portion of the incomes of the -institutions as was needed for a constant and yet rapid -development along the most liberal lines.</p> - -<h3>COLLEGE HOSPITALS</h3> - -<p>The first step has been the establishment in connection -with most schools of general hospitals in which the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219">219</a></span> -various teachers in the college should be the clinical -instructors, and where the students would have the -means not only of hearing theoretically what should be -done to the sick, but of actually examining the patients -under the supervision of their instructors, studying the -cases so as to become skilled in reaching a diagnosis -and indicating what in their opinion was necessary in -the way either of hygiene, medicine, or surgical operation. -More than that, in most of the advanced schools -to-day the students assist the clinical faculties of the -hospitals in the actual performance of operations, so -that when they graduate they are skilled to a degree -utterly unknown twenty years ago.</p> - -<h3>ESTABLISHMENT OF LABORATORIES</h3> - -<p>Another step which was equally important, and in -some respects even more so, has been the establishment -of laboratories connected with each branch of instruction. -A laboratory of anatomy (the dissecting room) -every medical school has always had, but all the other -laboratories are recent additions. Among these may -be named a laboratory of clinical medicine, a laboratory -of therapeutics, in which the action of drugs is studied; -a laboratory of chemistry, a laboratory of microscopy, -a laboratory of pathology for the study of diseased tissues, -a laboratory of embryology for the study of the development -of the human body and of the embryos of animals, -a laboratory of hygiene, a laboratory of bacteriology, -a laboratory of pharmacy, a surgical laboratory, -in which all the operations of surgery are done on the -cadaver by each student, a laboratory of physiology, -and in many colleges private rooms in which advanced -work may be done for the discovery of new truths.</p> - -<p>In all these laboratories, instead of simply hearing -about the experiments and observations, each student<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220">220</a></span> -is required to handle the drugs, the chemicals, the apparatus, -to do all the operations, to look through the -microscope, etc.; in other words, to do all that which is -necessary for the proper understanding of the case in -hand. In fact, it may be said that in view of the opportunities -and the requirements of modern hospitals, it -is undoubtedly true that a hospital patient, the poorest -of the poor, often has his case more thoroughly studied -and more accurately observed than the wealthy patient -who is attended at his home. On the other hand, however, -so many laboratories with their expensive apparatus -and a large staff of assistants mean an enormous increase -in the expense of a medical education, for which -the student does not pay anything like an equivalent. -Hence the need in all of our best modern medical schools -for endowments, in order that such work may be carried -on properly, and yet the student not be charged such -fees as to be practically prohibitory, excepting for the -rich, or at the least the well-to-do. I do not hesitate -to say that at the end of the second year many a diligent -student of to-day is better fitted to practise medicine than -was the graduate of half a century ago.</p> - -<h3>ANATOMICAL MATERIAL</h3> - -<p>One of the most important means of the study of medicine, -and especially of surgery, is a thorough acquaintance -with the anatomy of the human body. No one -would think of placing an engineer in charge of a complicated -piece of machinery, who had never become intimately -acquainted with all the parts of such a machine, -so that he could take it to pieces and put it together -again with ease and intelligence. Yet, until comparatively -recently, this knowledge of anatomy was both -required of, and yet at the same time the means of obtaining -it was forbidden to, the medical student. If he performed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221">221</a></span> -an operation and was guilty of negligence or error, -due to his want of anatomical knowledge, he was liable -to a suit for malpractice. Yet his only means of becoming -acquainted with the anatomy of the human body -was by stealing the bodies of the dead. In England, up to -1832, this was equally true. A regular traffic in human -bodies existed there as well as here, and, by reason of -its perils, the cost of bodies for dissection was very great; -but it was only a question of money. In his testimony -before the Parliamentary Committee, Sir Astley Cooper -made a shiver run down the backs of the noble lords -who listened to him when he said that in order to dissect -the body of any of them it was only necessary for him -to pay enough. The large pecuniary profits of such -business, when the supply was very small, led to the -horrible atrocities of Burke and Hare in Edinburgh in -1832. They deliberately murdered a considerable number -of persons, and sold the bodies to the dissecting rooms -in that city. The discovery of their crimes finally led -to the passage of the Anatomy Act, which has been in -force in Great Britain ever since. Similar violations -of graveyards in this country have led to the passage -in various States of somewhat similar laws, usually giving -for dissection the bodies of those who were so poor -in friendship that no one would spend the money necessary -for their burial. Even to-day, in a large number -of our States, the former anomalous condition of affairs -exists. The increase of anatomical material which has -resulted from the enactment of wise and salutary laws -for this purpose has given a great impetus to the study -of anatomy, and has produced a far better educated -class of physicians in most parts of the United States -within the last few years. The enlightened sense of -the community has perceived that to deny the medical -schools the means of properly teaching anatomy was a -fatal mistake, and resulted in an ignorance of which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222">222</a></span> -the community were the victims. As a result, it is possible -now, by law, in most States to obtain a reasonable -number of cadavers, not only for the study of anatomy, -but for the performance of all the usual operations.</p> - -<h3>MEDICAL LIBRARIES</h3> - -<p>Along with this there has been throughout this country -a marked movement in favor of medical libraries. -It is to the credit of the government of the United States -that the whole world is debtor to us, not only for the foremost -medical library in the world, that of the surgeon-general -of the army in Washington, but also for the -magnificent index-catalogue, not only of the books, but -all the journal articles in every language in the world. -No better investment of money was ever made than the -establishment of this library, and its allied museum, -and the publication of the index-catalogue.</p> - -<h3>EMBRYOLOGY</h3> - -<p>As a result of all these means and methods of study, -and as a part of the great educational and scientific -movement of the century, medical men now take a wholly -different view of the normal and abnormal structures of -the human body. The study of embryology has shown -us that many of the deviations from the normal development -of the human body are easily explained by embryology. -One of the most important changes in our -idea, for example, of tumors is due to the fact that the -study of embryology and of the tissues of the embryo -have shown us that diseased structures, which lack -explanation entirely, when compared with the adult -human tissues, readily find their explanation and fall -into an unexpected order when compared with the tissues -of the embryo. Not only, however, has the study<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223">223</a></span> -of embryological tissues thrown a flood of light on diseased -structures, but we have obtained new views of the -relation of man to all creatures, lower in the scale of life. -Largely owing to the doctrine of evolution, we now recognize -the fact that, so far as his body is concerned, man -is kindred to the brutes; that his diseases, within certain -limitations, are identical with similar diseases of -the lower animals; that his anatomy and physiology -are, in essence, the same as the anatomy and physiology -of the lower animals, even the very lowest, and that many -of his diseases can be best studied in the lower animals, -because upon them we can make exact experiments -which would be impossible in man. While it is true -that each animal has disorders which are peculiar to itself, -and that it is not subject to some of the disorders to which -man is a victim, and, <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">per contra</i>, that man is a victim to -some disorders from which animals do not suffer, yet, -taking them as a whole, the diseases of man and of animals, -and the action of remedies on both, are practically -identical. To this I shall have occasion to refer again.</p> - -<h3>PATHOLOGY</h3> - -<p>Among the laboratories which I mentioned, one of the -most important is that of pathology and morbid anatomy, -or the study of diseased tissues and organs. The first -work on pathology written in this country was by one -of our best-known surgeons, the late Samuel D. Gross, -and one of his most important contributions to surgical -progress consisted in his persistent advocacy of the need -for the study of pathology as a basis for all our means -of cure. This is evident, if we consider the illustration -I used a moment ago of a steam-engine. Unless he -knows precisely the defects of such a machine, the influence -of fresh or salt water on a boiler, the influence of -rust, the effect of oils, entirely apart from the mere mechanism<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224">224</a></span> -of the engine, an engineer might make the most -serious mistake, resulting in fatal damage, both to the -machine and probably to life. So, surgical pathology -is the study of the processes of disease, the alterations -in the minute structure of tissues and organs, without -which no surgeon can be fitted for his task, much less -can he be called an accomplished surgeon. All of these -laboratories mark the difference between the scientific -and the empirical method. The old student of medicine -went from case to case, heard many a good maxim, -and learned many a useful trick; but, after all, it -was only an empirical knowledge which he obtained. -It did not go to the foundation of things, it was -not scientific, as is the collegiate instruction of to-day.</p> - -<p>Having now glanced rapidly at the improvement in -medical instruction, let me turn next to a few of the principal -discoveries which have made the surgery of to-day -so much superior to the surgery of a hundred years ago.</p> - -<h3>ANÆSTHESIA</h3> - -<p>After vaccination, the most important medical event -of the century is the discovery of anæsthesia. While -there were some prior attempts at anæsthesia, practically -it dates from October 16, 1846, when Dr. John C. -Warren, in the Massachusetts General Hospital, first -performed a major surgical operation, without inflicting -the slightest pain. I cannot enter into the merits of the -various claimants for the credit of first using an anæsthetic, -but ether was then for the first time publicly administered -by Morton, and the very sponge which was -then used is now a precious trophy of the Massachusetts -General Hospital. I may, perhaps, quote from an address -which I delivered before the Medical and Chirurgical -Faculty of the State of Maryland, at their centennial<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225">225</a></span> -anniversary, in April, 1899, the following in relation to -anæsthesia:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“The news went like wildfire, and anæsthesia was -soon introduced into every clinic and at almost every -operation throughout the civilized world. Prior to that -time a surgical operation was attended with horrors -which those who live in these days cannot appreciate. -He was the best surgeon who could perform any operation -in the least possible time. The whole object of new -methods of operating was to shorten the period of frightful -agony which every patient had to endure. Every -second of suffering saved was an incalculable boon. -To submit to any operation required then a heroism and -an endurance which is almost incomprehensible to us -now. All of the more modern, deliberate, careful, painstaking -operations, involving minute dissection, amid -nerves and blood-vessels, when life or death depends on -the accuracy of almost every touch of the knife, were -absolutely impossible. It was beyond human endurance -quietly to submit one’s self for an hour, for an -hour and a half, for two hours, or even longer, to such -physical agony.</p> - -<p>“It is a striking commentary on the immediate results of -anæsthesia to learn that, in five years before the introduction -of ether, only one hundred and eighty-four persons -were willing to submit themselves to such a dreadful ordeal -in the Massachusetts General Hospital—an average of -thirty-seven operations per annum, or three per month.... -During the last year, in the same hospital—a -Mecca for every surgeon the world over—over thirty-seven -hundred operations were performed. It is not -an uncommon thing at the present day for any one of -the more active surgeons of this country to do as many -as four or five hundred operations in a year. I have -known as many as nineteen operations to be done in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226">226</a></span> -the Jefferson Medical College Hospital in a single day—equalling -six months’ work in Boston before the introduction -of ether.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>The next year, 1847, witnessed the introduction of -chloroform by Sir James Y. Simpson, of Edinburgh. -Until I became acquainted with the striking figures -just quoted, I had often wondered at the hospital scene -in that most touching story, <cite>Rab and His Friends</cite>, -by the late gifted and well-beloved physician, Dr. John -Brown, of Edinburgh. Nowadays students do not rush -into the surgical amphitheatre when they learn that -an operation is to be done, but it is taken as a matter of -course, for practically every day many operations are -done in most of our large hospitals. But, at the time -when Rab’s mistress was operated upon, an operation, -as has been stated, was a very rare event. Few had -the fortitude to endure its dreadful pangs. Now, thanks -to the blessed sleep of anæsthesia, sufferers from even -the most dreadful disorders can have long and difficult -operations done, accurate and tedious dissections made, -and yet feel not a twinge of pain.</p> - -<p>Besides general anæsthesia by ether, chloroform, and -a few other agents, there have been introduced several -means for producing “local anæsthesia,” <i>i.e.</i>, agents -which destroy the sensibility of the part of the body to -be operated upon while not producing unconsciousness. -Freezing the part by ice and salt, or by a quickly evaporating -spray of rhigolene or chloride of ethyl, are sometimes -used. But cocaine and a somewhat similar substance, -eucaine, have of late been more extensively -used on man, after their harmlessness had been first -shown by experiments on animals. In 1885 Corning, of -New York, injected a solution of cocaine as near to the -spinal cord as was possible, and produced insensibility -of all the body below the point of injection by the effect<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227">227</a></span> -of the cocaine upon the spinal cord. A few years ago -Quincke, of Kiel, in Germany, devised a means of puncturing -the spinal canal itself in the lumbar region (the -lowest part of the small of the back) for the purpose of -drawing off some of the fluid for examination. This -suggested to Bier, then of Kiel, who was apparently -ignorant of Corning’s work, that cocaine could be injected -through a hollow needle inserted into the spinal -canal by “lumbar puncture” and so produce anæsthesia -of all the body below this point. This method was -published by him in 1899, and was soon repeated in America. -In France, however, it has been practised more -than elsewhere, Tupper, of Paris, having successfully -done over two hundred operations by “spinal anæsthesia.” -All of the body below the diaphragm can -thus be deprived of sensibility. The method will probably -never replace ether and chloroform, but in many -cases is a valuable aid to the surgeon. But it has its -dangers and its inconveniences. The ideal anæsthetic -is not that which destroys sensibility and yet leaves -the patient perfectly conscious, as spinal anæsthesia -does. A patient to whom I recently proposed it for -certain special reasons rejected it, saying, with probable -truth, that she could never bear the strain of lying on -the table perfectly conscious of all that was being done -and frightened by any surgical emergency which might -easily arise in such a long, difficult, and dangerous -operation. The ideal anæsthetic is that which will -abolish pain and consciousness without danger to life. -The twentieth century will undoubtedly see the discovery -of this safe and efficient anæsthetic.</p> - -<h3>ANTISEPSIS</h3> - -<p>But the limits of surgical progress were not yet reached. -Let me quote again from the address before alluded to:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228">228</a></span></p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Even the introduction of anæsthesia, however, did -not rid surgery of all its terrors. The acute pain of the -operation was abolished, but the after-suffering, as -I know only too well, in my early surgical days, was -something dreadful to see. The parched lips of the -poor sufferer, tossing uneasily during sleepless nights; -wounds reeking with pus, and patients dying by scores -from blood-poisoning, from erysipelas, from tetanus, -from gangrene, were only too familiar sights in the pre-antiseptic -days. Then, again, there arose one of these -deliverers of the human race whose name can never -be forgotten and whose fame will last so long as time -shall endure. Jenner, Warren, and Lister are a triumvirate -of names of which any profession may well be -proud. Thank God, they all sprang from virile Anglo-Saxon -loins! No praise, no reward, no fame is too -great for them. That Lord Lister still lives to see the -triumph of his marvellous services to humanity is a -joy to all of us. And when the profession arose <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">en masse</i>, -within the last few years, at the International Congress of -Berlin, and at the meeting of the British Medical Association -in Montreal, and welcomed him with cheer -after cheer, it was but a feeble expression of gratitude -for benefits which no words can express.</p> - -<p>“Before Lister’s day erysipelas, tetanus, gangrene, -and blood-poisoning in its various phases were the constant -attendant of every surgeon. They were dreaded -guests at almost any operation; and when in rare cases -we obtained primary union without a drop of pus, without -fever, and with but little suffering, it was a marvellous -achievement. Now it is precisely reversed. -The surgeon who does not get primary union without -a drop of pus, with no fever, and with little suffering, -asks himself—what was the fault in my technic? To -open the head, the abdomen, or the chest thirty years -ago was almost equivalent to signing the death-warrant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229">229</a></span> -of a patient. The early mortality of ovariotomy was -about sixty per cent.; two out of three died. Now many -a surgeon can point to a series of one hundred abdominal -operations with a fatality of only two or three per -cent. When Sir Spencer Wells recorded his first one -thousand cases of ovariotomy it was calculated that after -deducting the years which the patients who died from -the operation would have lived had no operation been -done the net result of the thousand cases was an addition -of twenty thousand years to human life. One thousand -ovariotomies under antiseptic precautions at the -present would certainly add at least thirty thousand -years to human life. Would not such a guerdon be -enough for any man?</p> - -<p>“This, too, is a direct result of laborious laboratory -researches, beginning with the investigations of Liebig -and Pasteur on fermentation. Lister went still further. -Even before the discovery of the bacteria of suppuration, -of tetanus, and of erysipelas he showed us experimentally -how, by surgical cleanliness, we could avoid all infection -and so banish these pests from our hospitals and -bring life and health to many who otherwise would -have perished from operations which are now perfectly -safe.</p> - -<p>“The mortality of compound fractures in the pre-antiseptic -days was about sixty per cent. It was one of -the most dreaded of all accidents. Its mortality now is -perhaps not over three per cent., and the mortality from -sepsis after such a fracture, in the hands of well-instructed -surgeons, is almost nil. Prior to Lister’s day -the mortality of major amputations varied from fifty to -sixty-three per cent. Now it is from ten to twenty per -cent. And so I might go on with operation after operation -and show how they have become so safe that one -need not dread any, saving exceptional cases.</p> - -<p>“These two modern discoveries, anæsthesia and antisepsis,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230">230</a></span> -have utterly revolutionized modern surgery. -They have made possible operations which, by reason -of their length and pain and danger, were utterly unjustifiable -in former days, but are now the daily occupation -of a busy surgeon. And, far better than this, they -have enabled us to bring to homes and hearts, which -otherwise would have been broken up and wrung with -sorrow, the comfort of life restored to dear ones upon -whom depended the happiness and support of the families. -Translate figures into happy hearts and prosperous -homes if you can, and then you can tell me what Warren -and Lister have done for humanity!”</p></blockquote> - -<p>The result of these two wonderful discoveries has -been to separate us from the surgical past, as by a great -gulf.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Great theologians, such as a Calvin or a Jonathan -Edwards, were they recalled to life, could discourse as -learnedly as ever of predestination and free will; great -preachers, as a Beecher or a Spurgeon, could stir our -souls and warm our hearts as of old; great jurists, as a -Justinian or a Marshall, could expound the same principles -of law which hold good for all time; great forensic -orators, as a Burke or a Webster, could convince us by -the same arguments and arouse us by the same invectives -or the same eloquence that made our fathers willing -captives to their silver tongues. But to-day, so rapid -has been our surgical progress, a Velpeau, a Sir William -Ferguson, or a Pancoast, all of whom have died within -the last thirty years, could not teach modern surgical -principles nor perform a modern surgical operation. -Even our every-day surgical vocabulary—staphylococcus, -streptococcus, infection, immunity, antisepsis and -asepsis, toxin and antitoxin—would be unintelligible -jargon to him; and our modern operations on the brain,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231">231</a></span> -the chest, the abdomen, and the pelvis would make -him wonder whether we had not lost our senses, until, -seeing the almost uniform and almost painless recoveries, -he would thank God for the magnificent progress -of the last half-century, which had vouchsafed -such magical, nay, such almost divine, power to the -modern surgeon.”</p></blockquote> - -<h3>THE SURGERY OF WAR</h3> - -<p>One of the immediate consequences of the introduction -of the antiseptic method has been a remarkable -mitigation of the horrors of war. Our recent war with -Spain has proved, and the present military operations -in the Philippines and of the British in South Africa -will still further prove, its advantages. Witness a little -book written by Professor von Esmarch, of Kiel, Germany, -with the apt title, <cite>The Fight of Humanity Against the -Horrors of War</cite>; with an appendix, entitled, “The -Samaritan on the Battle-field.” One of the most valuable -means for the preservation of human life is carried -by every soldier in a modern civilized army as a part of -his regulation outfit, a “First Aid Package” for the -treatment of any wound or injury; and one of the most -valuable and interesting papers read before the American -Surgical Association, at its meeting in Chicago in -1899, was by Professor Senn on the “First Aid Package.” -This first aid package contains an antiseptic -dressing, which can be applied to all but the gravest -wounds for the purpose of preventing infection, which -is the principal danger to life after accident or injury. -The universal testimony of our surgeons in Cuba was -that by its use most wounds were prevented from becoming -infected, and, therefore, inflamed, and that the -number of operations was greatly diminished by reason -of its use.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232">232</a></span></p> - -<h3>BACTERIOLOGY</h3> - -<p>In experimental science, two methods of progress are -observed; first, in actual practice certain methods are -adopted because they are found to be the most advantageous -and useful, though we cannot explain why it -is so—<i>i.e.</i>, practice outstrips theory. Again, as a result -of experimental investigation, certain facts are discovered -which explain why the practical methods just alluded -to are the best, and this in turn suggests further -improvements in our practice—<i>i.e.</i>, theory outstrips practice -and enlarges its domain. Thus outstripping theory, -the practical advance made by Lister was an example -of the first. His striking results in turn stimulated -scientific observers to make new discoveries of the greatest -importance, and thus science immensely improved -and widened our practical methods.</p> - -<p>No definite year or day can be assigned as the birth-date -of Lord Lister’s antiseptic methods, as we can, for -instance, for vaccination or for anæsthesia. We may -assume, at least for this counrty, the summer of -1876 as the starting-point. During that year Lord -Lister attended the International Medical Congress held -in Philadelphia, and demonstrated his then methods -and convinced a few surgeons of their immense advantages. -Even before that date there had been very many -experiments and observations, especially on the blood. -In 1863 Davaine, in France, had discovered little rod-like -bodies in the blood in wool-sorters’ disease, or anthrax, -which he named from their shape “bacteria,” or “little -rods.” This name has been adopted for all forms of -germs, though many of them are not rod-like in their -shape. Not until 1881 was the cause of inflammation -and suppuration (the formation of pus or “matter”) -discovered. In that year Ogston, of Aberdeen, published -experiments which he believed demonstrated the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233">233</a></span> -fact that certain bacteria were the cause of suppuration. -Since then this has been amply confirmed not only by -experiments upon animals, but by observation in man. -In 1882 Robert Koch, of Berlin, discovered the cause -of tuberculosis, a little rod-like body, which is named -the “bacillus” of tuberculosis. In 1883 Fehleisen discovered -the germ of erysipelas, and in 1887 Nicolaier -and Rosenbaum discovered the bacillus of tetanus or -lockjaw. So recent have been the discoveries in bacteriology -which have led to vast improvements in our -methods of treatment of wounds and the performance -of operations.</p> - -<p>While the principles established by Lord Lister have -remained unchanged, the details in the treatment have -been greatly simplified and made more efficient. For -the information of the general reader, let me state a few -facts. Bacteria are divided into two principal classes, -in accordance with their form. One, known as “cocci,” -from the Greek word coccus—“berry”—may be likened -to billiard-balls. Some of these occur in bunches, which -have been likened to bunches of grapes, and hence -are called, again from a Greek term, “staphylococci.” -Others are arranged in chains, like beads, -and are called “streptococci.” These last are very -much more virulent and dangerous than the staphylococci. -Both of these produce pus or matter, and they -are the most widely diffused and most common forms -found in infected or suppurating wounds. One form -is the cause of erysipelas. A second form, known as -“bacilli,” may be likened to a lead-pencil. Among the -various bacilli that have been discovered are those of -tuberculosis, glanders, tetanus or lockjaw, etc. I omit -many others found in medical disorders, as they do not -concern this paper. How important these discoveries -are may be seen by the following facts: Tuberculosis, -next to that of suppuration, is, perhaps, the most widely<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234">234</a></span> -extended infection to which man, as well as animals, is -liable. We are all familiar with it in the form of “consumption,” -but the non-medical reader is, perhaps, not -aware of the fact that it affects not only the lungs, but -also the bowels in consumption of the bowels; the bones, -as is seen by every surgeon almost daily, and especially -as the cause of the crooked backs seen in spine diseases; -in the joints, as is seen in hip-joint disease, white swelling -of the knee, ankle-joint disease, and similar disease -of all the other large joints of the body; in the brain, in -tubercular meningitis; in the abdominal cavity, in tubercular -peritonitis; in the skin, in certain forms of -ulceration, commonly called lupus; in the glands, as -in the swollen glands, or “bunches,” in the neck, and -endless other varieties which I need not name.</p> - -<p>The bacillus of lockjaw is found in great abundance -around stables, and this explains the fact that hostlers, -drivers, cavalrymen, all of whom had to do with horses, -are especially liable to attacks of lockjaw. Moreover, -certain bacteria thrive best when exposed to the open -air. Other bacteria, and among them the bacilli of lockjaw, -thrive best when the air is excluded, and this explains -the danger of treading on a rusty nail, which is -popularly and rightly known as peculiarly liable to produce -lockjaw. The reason is not because it is a nail, -nor because it is old, nor because it is rusty, but because -from the earth in which it lies it is most apt to be the -means of introducing into a punctured wound the bacilli -of lockjaw. Such a wound bleeds but very little, the -blood soon crusts and excludes the air, and if any of the -bacilli of lockjaw have been carried into the body, they -find in such a closed wound, from which the air is excluded, -the most favorable conditions for growth and -infection of the whole body. Knowing these facts from -experiment, the treatment is clear. Lay open such a -wound and disinfect it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235">235</a></span> -These two forms, the “cocci,” or berry-like bacteria, -and the “bacilli,” or rod-like bacteria, comprise the -great majority of dangerous bacteria.</p> - -<p>It must be remembered that there is an enormous number -of bacteria which are not dangerous; some of them -are entirely harmless even if introduced into the human -body. Others are the bacteria of decomposition, or putrefaction, -which are known as “saprophytic” bacteria. -All of the harmless ones are known as “non-pathogenic,” -that is, non-producers of disease. Those which -produce disease are known as “pathogenic,” and those -which produce suppuration as “pyogenic” or pus-producing -bacteria.</p> - -<p>All of these bacteria are plants, and not, as is very -frequently supposed, animals of a low form. The danger -from their introduction into the body can be best -appreciated, perhaps, by the statement of Belfield, who -estimated that a single bacterium which weighs, approximately, -only the 1-40,000,000 part of a grain, if -given plenty of food and plenty of “elbow room,” would -so rapidly develop that in three days it would form -a mass weighing 800 tons! It is the old story of the -blacksmith who was to get a penny for the first nail, -two for the second, four for the third, and so on till a set -of shoes would cost more than Crœsus could pay for.</p> - -<p>The effect of the bacteria has been determined by experiment -to be proportionate to the dose. A cubic centimetre -is a cube two-fifths of an inch on each side. -One-tenth of such a cube of pure culture of one bacterium -(<i>Proteus vulgaris</i>) contains 225,000,000 bacteria, -and if injected under the skin of a rabbit will produce -death. Less than 18,000,000 will produce no effect -whatever. Of one kind of staphylococcus, if 250,000,000 -are introduced under the skin of a rabbit there will -be produced a small abscess, but it requires 1,000,000,000 -to produce speedy death. On the other hand, of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236">236</a></span> -bacillus of lockjaw it requires only 1000 to produce -death, so virulent is this germ.</p> - -<p>Moreover, their effect on tissues and persons in different -states varies very much. Thus, it is found that when -a certain number of bacteria are injected into the cavity -of the abdomen of an animal, if the animal is healthy -and the peritoneum (the thin lining membrane of the -abdomen) is healthy, the animal will recover perfectly -well; but if the peritoneum be scraped and torn -(and it must be remembered that the healthy peritoneum -is devoid of sensation), that the same dose -which before was harmless will now produce a violent -peritonitis and very likely death. The practical lesson -from this experiment upon animals is very evident. -Every surgeon who opens the abdomen is most careful, -if possible, not to injure the peritoneum, but manipulates -with the greatest care lest fatal results follow any -serious injury to that membrane. So, too, if the general -health be impaired, it is found that an injection from -which a healthy animal would recover will be followed -by fatal consequences if the general health is below -par. Again, if an animal has a simple fracture of his -thigh-bone, and that is the only injury that he receives, -no infection from the exterior having occurred, he will -make a good recovery; but if at the same time he receives -a lacerated wound, it may be even in another part of the -body, and this wound, not being cared for most scrupulously, -becomes infected, the infection will fasten on -the distant spot of least resistance, the broken thigh-bone, -and will produce a most dangerous and very frequently -fatal form of inflammation.</p> - -<p>I need scarcely point out in this connection, as in fact -throughout this entire consideration of bacteriology, -how important a part in its development has been played -by experiment upon animals. The experimental facts -just stated are of vital importance in the treatment of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237">237</a></span> -surgical diseases, and evidently could not have been -determined upon mankind. It is not too much to say -that had vivisection been restricted or prohibited the surgery -of to-day would be the barbarous surgery of thirty -years ago.</p> - -<p>Even granting that an enormous number of the bacteria -are harmless, the wonder is that with so many foes on -every hand we live an ordinary lifetime. Fortunately, -however, in the human body there is not only a lack of -food sufficient and “elbow room” enough for them to -work their dire effects, but there is that which “makes -for righteousness” in our physical organization as well -as in our souls.</p> - -<p>The moment that bacteria are introduced into the -human body a certain number of cells hasten to destroy -them. These are called “phagocytes” or devouring -cells, because they eat up the bacteria. Whether the -patient survives or dies depends on whether the bacteria -get the upper hand of the phagocytes or the phagocytes -the upper hand of the bacteria.</p> - -<p>These statements are very easy to make, but the results -have only been obtained by prolonged and laborious -investigations in the laboratory and by experiments -upon animals which have demonstrated these facts.</p> - -<p>The bacteria are recognized by various methods: -First, by form. Many which are identical in appearance, -however, differ greatly in effects. A handful of -turnip-seed and a handful of rape-seed look very much -alike, but if they are planted the plants differ so greatly -that we can recognize the difference in the seed by the -difference in the crop; hence the second method of recognizing -differences in bacteria is by planting them. Different -methods have been practised. Some are sown on -the raw surface of a potato; others on bread paste; others -in certain jelly-like materials, such as gelatine or agar-agar. -It was soon found as a result of these experiments<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238">238</a></span> -that the bacteria flourished best, some in one -soil, some in another. Again, the crops of mould which -come from them differ greatly in color, some being -black, some red, some white, some yellow, etc. A third -method also is by staining them with various dyes, when -it is found that some bacteria will take one stain best, -others will take another, and so on through the whole list.</p> - -<p>At first it was thought that these bacteria existed -chiefly in the air, and hence in Lister’s early methods -powerful spray-producing apparatus were used; but -while it is true that they do exist in the air, it is found -that this is not the principal source of infection. There -is no substance (which has not been disinfected) that -is not covered with the germs of these little plants. They -exist in our food and drink; but the intestine is, one -may say, a natural home in which many exist without -harm to the body. For surgical purposes their existence -is most important, first, in the earth, where, as -I have already shown, the bacillus of lockjaw is most frequently -found. So, too, the bacillus of wool-sorters’ -disease (<em>Anthrax</em>) exists in the earth. If an animal -dying of anthrax is buried, worms coming from the -carcass up through the ground carry the infection, so -that other animals grazing over this surface will become -readily infected. The means by which we can avoid -infection from the earth is very evident, viz., every -person who has been run over by the cars or who -has fallen on the ground and broken his leg, etc., must -have the wound most carefully cleansed from all dirt. -If this is scrupulously done the danger of tetanus or -other similar earth-born bacterial disease is almost -nothing.</p> - -<p>A still greater danger to every patient, however, is -found in the clothing, in the skin, and all dressings -which are applied to wounds. The skin is full of bacteria -of the most dangerous kind; even the spotless hands<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239">239</a></span> -of the bride, in the eyes of the surgeon, are dirty. No -one can touch a wound with ordinarily clean hands without -infecting it. All clothing, dressings—<i>e.g.</i>, lint and -soft linen rags, and such like—are full of bacteria of -the most dangerous kind. Perhaps the most dangerous -place is the space under the nails of the surgeon’s hand, -for the mere mechanical removal of any dirt under the -nails by cleansing them does not make them clean surgically. -The nails must be cut short and prepared in -a way I shall mention directly, or they are full of peril -to any patient into whose wound a non-disinfected finger -is introduced. Again, another source of infection which -thirty years ago we never thought of is our instruments. -Then instruments were washed with soap and water and -were made clean to the eye, but they were still covered -with invisible death-dealing bacteria which hid especially -in the joints and irregularities of the surface of -all instruments.</p> - -<p>All of these somewhat detailed statements lead up -to a consideration of the difference between the old surgery -and the new. Thirty years ago when an operation -was to be performed or an accident cared for we laid -out our instruments which were visibly clean, used -them with hands which were as clean as those of any -gentleman, and applied soft linen rags, lint, and other -dressings. To-day we know that these apparently -clean instruments, hands, and dressings are covered -with bacteria, which produce infection, and, therefore, -suppuration, and frequently run riot in blood-poisoning, -erysipelas, lockjaw, and death.</p> - -<p>How does a modern surgeon perform an operation? -All bacteria can be killed by heat. Cold has no effect -upon them, but the temperature of boiling water (212° -Fahr.) is sufficient to destroy them all usually within -fifteen or twenty minutes; hence, first, instruments -are all boiled; and, secondly, dressings are either<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240">240</a></span> -steeped in such solutions as have been found to destroy -the bacteria, such as carbolic acid or corrosive sublimate, -or other preparations, or, still better, are placed in sterilizers, -that is to say, metal cylinders, which are then -filled with steam, usually under pressure, so as to -obtain a temperature of 240° Fahr., and thus make sure -of the death of the bacteria. Unfortunately, our hands -cannot be boiled or steamed, but the modern surgeon -first uses soap and water most vigorously over his hands -and arms up to the elbow. The nails are cut short and -the scrubbing-brush is especially applied to the nails -so as to clean the fingers at the ends. Then by various -means, such as pure alcohol, which is one of our best -disinfectants, or solutions of corrosive sublimate, and -other means too technical to mention, the hands are -sterilized. Rubber gloves are frequently used, so as to -preclude infection, as they can be steamed to 240° Fahr. -Removing at least his outer clothing, the surgeon -puts on a cotton gown which has been steamed and -so made free from bacteria. Not a few surgeons also -wear sterilized caps, so that any bacteria in the hair -will not be sifted into a wound, and some wear respirators -of sterile gauze over the mouth and beard for the -same reason. All the dressings have been sterilized by -superheated steam. All the threads by which blood-vessels -are tied have been either boiled or otherwise sterilized. -All the material for sewing up the wounds, and -the needles with which they are sewn, have been similarly -disinfected. The skin of the patient is also sterilized, -usually the day beforehand, in the same manner in -which the surgeon’s hands have been disinfected, and -are disinfected a second time just at the moment of the -operation. If the case is one of accident, such as a -crushed leg from a trolley-car, all of the dirt is most carefully -washed away with soap and water, and the parts -are disinfected, not only on the exterior, but also by prolonged<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241">241</a></span> -washing with some cleansing agent in the interior -of the wound, the patient being under the influence -of ether, of course.</p> - -<p>It is easily seen from such a description of a modern -operation that no case can receive due care in one of our -modern homes, even the best. The facilities do not exist, -and hence surgeons are more and more declining to -do operations, whether for accident or disease, in private -houses, except in a case of absolute necessity, and a -happy custom is growing more and more in favor with -the community of having all operations and all accidents -cared for in a well-equipped hospital.</p> - -<h3>RESULTS OF MODERN SURGERY</h3> - -<p>As the result of our ability to perform operations without -pain, thanks to anæsthesia, and our ability to perform -operations without infection, and, therefore, almost -without danger, thanks to antisepsis, the range of modern -surgery has been enormously increased. Unless -one has lived through the old surgery and into the new -he scarcely can appreciate this widening of the field of -operative surgery. Thirty years ago, in consequence -of the great danger of opening the head, the chest, or -the abdomen, or, in fact, of making an incision anywhere -about the body, the surgeon never dared to interfere -until he was obliged to do so. Hence, not only were -many modern operations not even thought of, but in obscure -cases we had to wait until time and disease developed -symptoms and physical signs such that we were -sure of our diagnosis, and then, knowing that death -would follow if we did not interfere, we ventured to operate. -Now we anticipate such a fatal termination, -and in most cases can avert it. In perhaps no class of -cases has the benefit of this immunity from infection -and danger been shown than in the obscure diseases of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242">242</a></span> -the brain and the abdomen. To-day, if we are uncertain -as to whether there is serious danger going on which, if -unchecked, will result in death, we deliberately open -the one cavity or the other, in order to find out the exact -state of affairs. Supposing that the mischief is trifling, -or even that there is no mischief, we then know how to -deal with the symptoms which have been puzzling us. -So far as the exploratory operation is concerned, the -patient recovers from it in a short time, and, meantime, -perhaps has also been cured of the symptoms which -were before so ill understood. If any serious disease is -found, in the majority of cases we can cope with it successfully. -Before the days of antisepsis and anæsthesia -the field of operation was greatly restricted, and practically -the removal of tumors, amputations, and a few other -operations were all that were done. Now all the then inaccessible -organs are attacked with an intrepidity born -of an assurance of safety. Recovery usually sets the -seal of approval on the judgment of the surgeon. Thirty -years ago, taking all operations together, fully one-third -of our patients died, many of them often from slight -operations which were followed by infection. To-day, -including even the far more grave operations which are -now done, the general mortality will scarcely exceed five -per cent., and many surgeons are able, in a series of several -hundred operations, to save ninety-seven out of -every hundred patients!</p> - -<h3>SERUM TREATMENT</h3> - -<p>Another remarkable recent discovery, the result of -numerous and careful investigations in the laboratory, -is a wholly new means of treatment, viz., that method -which is known as orrhotherapy, or serumtherapy, or -the treatment by injecting certain antitoxins under the -skin by a hypodermatic syringe. It would lead me too<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243">243</a></span> -far to enter into the theory upon which these were first -used. Suffice it to say that in the blood of an animal -that has passed through a certain disorder the liquid -part of the blood contains an antidote or antitoxin. If -a certain amount of this is injected under the skin of an -animal or man suffering from the same disorder in its -incipient stages, the antitoxin prevents the development -of the disease. The use of this method has thus far -been much more medical than surgical, and its results -in diphtheria and other medical disorders have been perfectly -marvellous. In surgery, however, less favorable -results have been obtained, but in all probability -in the future we shall be able to do for some of our surgical -disorders what the physician can do to-day for diphtheria. -[For the results in diphtheria, see Professor Osler’s -paper.]</p> - -<p>There has also been discovered another means which -in surgery has rendered some valuable service. From -certain organs, as, for instance, the thyroid gland (the -gland whose enlargement produces goitre), we can obtain -a very potent extract of great value. In cases of -goitre very noteworthy results have already been obtained -by the administration of the thyroid extract. A -number of other organs in the body of animals have -been used to combat certain disorders in the human -body with advantage. The chief development of both of -these new forms of medication, however, will take place -in the twentieth century.</p> - -<h3>INSTRUMENTS OF PRECISION</h3> - -<p>Another direction in which the century has seen enormous -progress is in the introduction of instruments of -precision. When I was a student in the early 60’s, instruction -in microscopy was conspicuous only by its -absence from our medical curriculum. Now every student<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244">244</a></span> -who graduates is more or less of an accomplished -microscopist, and carries into his practice the methods -and observations which the microscope furnishes. At -the same period I remember being greatly interested -in a discussion which two of my teachers had as to -whether it was possible to make an application accurately -to the vocal chords in the larynx. Now every tyro in -medicine makes such applications to the larynx as a -routine procedure in cases requiring it, and similar -methods have been applied by the ophthalmoscope to -examine the interior of the eye; the rhinoscope, to examine -the interior of the nose; the otoscope, for examination -of the ear; and other similar instruments for examining -all the other hollow organs in the body. If I -add to these the hypodermatic syringe; the aspirator, -which may be described as a large hypodermatic syringe -for suction instead of injection; the clinical thermometer, -which was introduced in the late 60’s; the hemostatic -forceps, for controlling hemorrhage by seizing the blood-vessels -and clamping them till we have time to tie them; -and other instruments intended to facilitate our operative -methods, it will be seen at once that the armamentarium -of the modern surgeon is very different from that -of his predecessor at the beginning, or even at the middle, -of the century.</p> - -<h3>THE RÖNTGEN RAY</h3> - -<p>One of those extraordinary discoveries which startle -the whole world came nearly at the end of the nineteenth -century, in the winter of 1895–96. At that time -a modest professor in the University of Würzburg announced -that he could readily see the skeleton inside -the body through the flesh! Naturally, the first announcement -was received with almost absolute incredulity; -but very soon his discovery was confirmed from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245">245</a></span> -all sides, and it has now taken its place among the recognized -phenomena of science. By means of certain rays, -which, being of unknown nature, were called “X”-rays, -after the well-known mathematical X, or unknown -quantity, Professor Röntgen has shown us that not only -can the bones be seen, but that almost every substance -in the body can be seen and reproduced in pictures. The -reason for this is because they are all obstacles to -the passage of these X-rays and so produce shadows -on a sensitized photographic plate. If the exposure is -sufficiently prolonged the rays penetrate even through -the bones and act upon the photographic plate, so that -no shadow remains. If the rays are allowed to penetrate -for a shorter time the bones show dense shadows, -and one can get a light shadow of the soft parts. If -the exposure is still shorter, then we can recognize the -dense shadow of the bone, the much less dense shadows -of the muscles, and the still lighter shadows of the layer -of fat immediately under the skin. The heart can be -seen beating, and its shadow is now a well-recognized -feature in skiagraphs of the chest. At first it was thought -impossible to discover anything inside the bony skull, -but there are now on record nearly a score of instances -in which bullets have been detected within the skull, -and after trephining have been found and removed exactly -at the location indicated. It is a very common -thing now to locate a piece of steel or other similar foreign -bodies within the eyeball by the method of Dr. Sweet, -or some similar method, within one or two millimetres -(a millimetre is one-twenty-fifth of an inch). It is now -well recognized that even stones in the kidney will throw -shadows sufficiently strong for them to be recognized, -and by noting their level in relation to the vertebræ we -can tell precisely in what part of the kidney to make -the incision in order to find and remove them. It has -happened to myself and many other surgeons in the past<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246">246</a></span> -to cut down upon a kidney, believing that there was -a stone in the kidney, only to find that we had been -misled by the apparently clear symptoms of such a foreign -body. In future no such mistake should be made by -any surgeon within reach of a skilful skiagrapher. Unfortunately, -gall stones and numerous other foreign -bodies, vegetable substances such as beans, corn, wood, -etc., being as transparent to the X-rays as are the soft -parts, are not revealed by means of this new method -of investigation; but cavities in the lung, abscesses -in bone, and similar diseases which produce thinning of -the lung, bone, and other such organs, and so lighten -instead of deepen the shadows, can now be recognized -by means of light spots in the pictures as well as others -by means of a shadow.</p> - -<p>I spoke a moment ago of the need of a “skilful” skiagrapher, -for it must be remembered that there may be -the same difference in the personal skill, and, therefore, -in the reliability of the results in skiagraphy as there -is in photography. A poor photographer will get very -different results from a skilful one, even if he uses precisely -the same quality of plates and precisely the same -camera. Personal skill and experience in the skiagrapher -is, therefore, one of the most important elements -in success. It must be remembered also that the X-rays -in not a few cases may mislead us. I have, personally, -fractured a bone on account of deformity, taken an X-ray -picture immediately after the operation, the picture -showing not the slightest evidence of a fracture, which -I absolutely knew existed. Moreover, foreign bodies -found on the outside of the person may mislead us, as, -for example, the metal part of suspenders, a coin in -one’s pocket, and such like. They look in the picture -as if they were inside rather than outside the body, and -any article the shape or size of which would not reveal -its nature might easily be mistaken for a foreign body<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247">247</a></span> -within the patient. Therefore, in many cases only -an expert can determine precisely what the skiagraph -means. I especially mention this, because there is a -tendency at present to utilize skiagraphs in court in -order to convince the jury that such a picture is an evidence -of malpractice. Such pictures always need an interpreter -in order to judge correctly of their meaning. -It is precisely as if the jury were asked to look through -a microscope. I have been myself accustomed to use -the microscope for thirty years, but there are many instances -even yet in which I am obliged to ask a pathologist -or bacteriologist what I really am looking at in -the microscope. While one may make a mistake of small -moment in some cases, yet if a man’s life or liberty or -purse is at the mercy of a jury which does not know -how to interpret a skiagraph, and, may, therefore, give a -verdict which is “precisely wrong,” as Professor Lincoln, -my old teacher of Latin, used to call many of our translations, -it will be a very serious matter and lead to gross -injustice.</p> - -<h3>CITY AND VILLAGE HOSPITALS</h3> - -<p>Another great improvement in our means of caring -for our surgical patients is the establishment of hospitals -all over the land. These, happily, are not limited to our -great cities, but in every country town and not a few -large villages small but well-equipped and well-managed -hospitals have been established which have done incalculable -good. It is not too much to say that every -city or town establishing such a hospital is repaid a -hundredfold.</p> - -<h3>TRAINED NURSES</h3> - -<p>The trained nurse has fortunately come to stay. In -fact, our antiseptic methods as above described have -made the trained nurse indispensable. The old nurse,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248">248</a></span> -who, by many clumsy experiments on her patients, -had obtained a certain rule-of-thumb knowledge of the -care of the sick, can no longer assist in a surgical operation -or properly care for any surgical patient. The -modern nurse must of necessity be a well-educated, -well-trained woman, knowing thoroughly modern antiseptic -methods, and on the alert to observe every symptom -of improvement and every signal of danger.</p> - -<p>Without a well-trained nurse it is impossible at the -present day properly to care for any serious surgical -case, and I gladly bear witness to the intelligence, fidelity, -and skill of scores of nurses who have assisted me, and -without whom I should have felt as one blade of a scissors -without its fellow.</p> - -<h3>SPECIAL OPERATIONS</h3> - -<p><dfn>Amputations and Compound Fractures.</dfn>—Having -now traced the different modes of thought which have -aided surgical progress in the nineteenth century and -the improved means of investigation, let us turn finally -to the progress in individual operations. As to amputations -and compound fractures, I have already indicated -the immense improvements which have followed -the introduction of anæsthesia, and especially -of antisepsis, which have brought the mortality of amputations -down from fifty or sixty per cent. to ten or -fifteen per cent., and in compound fractures, once so -dreaded, since the mortality was not infrequently as high -as two out of three, to a relatively insignificant danger.</p> - -<p><dfn>Tumors.</dfn>—In no department, perhaps, has the introduction -of antisepsis, and the use of catgut and silk -ligatures after the antiseptic method, brought about a -greater improvement than in operations for tumors. -The startling reluctance of Sir Astley Cooper to operate -on King George IV. for so simple and small a tumor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249">249</a></span> -as a wen, lest erysipelas might follow and even destroy -his life, is in marked contrast with the success and -therefore the boldness of modern surgeons. Tumors -in all parts of the body, whether they be external or -internal, whether they involve the wall of the chest -or are inside the abdomen, are now removed with -almost perfect safety. Anæsthesia has made it possible -to dissect out tumors in so dangerous a region -as the neck, where the surgeon is confronted with adhesions -to the jugular vein, the carotid artery, and the -nerves of the neck and of the arm, with the greatest -impunity. Such an operation not uncommonly lasts -from three-quarters of an hour to an hour and a half, -and involves often the removal of two or three inches -of the jugular vein and many of the large nerves, the removal -of which a few years ago would have been deemed -an impossibility.</p> - -<p><dfn>Goitre.</dfn>—One of the most striking instances of progress -is operations on goitre. Writing in 1876, the late Professor -Samuel D. Gross noted it as something remarkable -that Dr. Green, of Portland, Maine, had removed seven -goitres with two deaths, and the late Dr. Maury, of Philadelphia, -had extirpated two goitres with one death. In -marked contrast to this Professor Kocher, of Berne, -in 1895, reported one thousand cases, of which eight -hundred and seventy were non-cancerous, and he lost -of these last but eleven cases, or a little over one per -cent. In 1898 he reported six hundred additional cases, -with only one death in the five hundred and fifty-six -non-cancerous cases, or a mortality of only 0.1 per cent. -It will be seen, therefore, that an operation which a few -years ago was excessively fatal has become almost, one -might say, a perfectly safe operation.</p> - -<p><dfn>Surgery of the Bones.</dfn>—Operations on bones, apart -from amputations, show also a similar improvement. -In cases of deformity following fracture we now do not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250">250</a></span> -hesitate to cut down upon the bone and refracture it -or remove the deformed portion, join the ends together, -dress the part in plaster of Paris to secure fixation, and -have the patient recover with little or no fever and no suppuration. -Above the elbow a large nerve runs in a furrow -in the arm bone, and in case of fracture this is liable to -be torn and a portion of it destroyed. The result of -it is paralysis of all the muscles on the back of the -forearm from the elbow down and consequent inability -to extend either wrist or fingers, making the hand almost -useless. In a number of cases the nerve has been -sought for and found, but the ends have been too far -apart for successful union and sewing them together. -In such cases we do not hesitate now, in order to bring -the two ends of the nerve together, to remove one or two -inches of the arm bone, wire the shortened bone, sew the -now approximated ends of the nerve together, put the -arm in plaster, and as soon as the wound is healed, with -appropriate later treatment to the muscles we can obtain -in a reasonable number of cases a perfect, or almost -perfect, union of the nerves with a re-establishment of -the usefulness of the hand.</p> - -<p>In very many cases the bones are deformed as a result -of rickets, and in some cases in consequence of hip-joint -disease. In such cases the leg is crooked or flexed, -and cannot be used for walking. Such cases of stiff -joints and crooked legs are now operated on, one might -say, wholesale. At the International Medical Congress, -held in Copenhagen in 1884, Professor Macewen, of Glasgow, -reported 1800 operations on 1267 limbs in 704 patients, -in which he had sawn or chiselled through the bones -so as to fracture them, placed them in a straight position, -and after a few weeks the bone has become consolidated -and the leg or arm made straight. Every one of these -operations was successful, excepting five cases, and -even these deaths were not due to the operation, but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251">251</a></span> -to some other disorder, such as an unexpected attack -of pneumonia, diphtheria, or scarlet fever.</p> - -<p><dfn>Surgery of the Head and Brain.</dfn>—In the surgery of -the head we find one of the most remarkable illustrations -of the modern progress of surgery. Fractures of -the skull have been the most dangerous and fatal of -accidents until within a short time. Of course, many -of them must necessarily, even now, be fatal, from the -widespread injury to the bones and the brain. But our -modern methods, by which we can disinfect the cavities -of the ear, the nose, and the mouth, with which these -fractures often communicate, and through these avenues -become infected, are so successful that such cases, instead -of being looked upon as hopeless, are in a majority -of instances followed by recovery. Even gun-shot -wounds, in which the ball may remain inside the -cavity of the head, are successfully dealt with, unless -the injury produced by the ball has been necessarily -fatal from the start. Fluhrer, of New York, has reported -a very remarkable case of gun-shot wound, in -which the ball entered at the forehead, traversed the -entire brain, was deflected at the back of the skull, and -then pursued its course farther downward in the brain. -By trephining the skull at the back he found the ball, -passed a rubber drainage tube through the entire brain -from front to back, and had the satisfaction of seeing -the patient recover.</p> - -<p>Until 1884 it was excessively difficult to locate with -any degree of accuracy a tumor within the brain, but -in that year Dr. Bennett, of London, for the first time -accurately located a tumor within the skull without -there being the slightest evidence on the exterior of its -existence, much less of its location. Mr. Godlee (surgeons -in England are not called “Dr.,” but “Mr.”) trephined -the skull at the point indicated, found the tumor, -and removed it. True, this patient died, but the possibility<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252">252</a></span> -of accurately locating a tumor of the brain, -reaching it and removing it, was now demonstrated, -which is far more important to humanity at large than -whether this individual patient survived or not. Since -then there have been a very large number of tumors -successfully removed. The latest statistics are those of -Von Bergmann, of Berlin, in 1898. He collected 273 -operations for brain tumors, of which 169 (61.9 per cent.) -recovered, and 104 (38.1 per cent.) died. This is by far -the best percentage of results so far reported, but there -is reason to believe that with the constant improvement -in our ability to locate such tumors and in our methods -of removing them, the mortality rate will be still further -lessened.</p> - -<p>Even more successful than the surgery of brain tumors -has been the surgery of abscess of the brain. I have no -available statistics of the exact numbers, but it is certain -that several hundred have been operated on, and with -even better success than in the case of brain tumors. -The most frequent cause for such abscesses is old and -neglected disease of the ear. No child suffering from -a “running from the ear,” which is especially apt to -follow scarlet fever and other similar disorders, should be -allowed to pass from under the most skilled treatment -until a cure is effected. This is the commonest cause -of abscess of the brain. The inflammation in the ear, -which begins in the soft lining of the cavities of the ear, -finally extends to the bone, and after years of intermittent -discharge, will suddenly develop an abscess of -the brain, which, if not relieved, will certainly be fatal. -Prompt surgical interference alone can save life, and, -happily, though we cannot promise recovery in all, a -very large percentage of success is assured.</p> - -<p>In epilepsy, as a result of injuries of the head, in a -moderate number of cases, we can obtain a cure of the -disease by operation, but in the great majority of cases,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253">253</a></span> -and, one may say, practically in all of the cases in which -the epilepsy originates “of itself,” that is to say, without -any known cause, it is useless to operate, certainly -at least after the epileptic habit has been formed. Possibly -were operation done at the very beginning we -might obtain better results than experience thus far -has shown us is possible.</p> - -<p>Very many cases of idiocy are constantly brought -to surgeons in the hope that something can be done for -these lamentable children. Unfortunately, at present -surgery holds out but little hope in such cases. In a few -exceptional instances it may be best to operate, but -a prudent surgeon will decline to do any operation in -the vast majority of cases.</p> - -<p><dfn>Surgery of the Chest and Heart.</dfn>—The chest is the -region of the body which has shown the least progress -of all, and yet even here the progress is very marked. -When, as a result of pleurisy, fluid accumulates on one -side of the chest, even displacing the heart, we now do -not hesitate to remove an inch or two of one or -more ribs and thoroughly drain the cavity, with not -only a reasonable, but in a majority of cases, one may -almost say, a certain, prospect of cure. We have -also entered upon the road which will lead us in time -to a secure surgery of the lung itself. A few cases of -abscess, of serious gun-shot wound, attended by otherwise -fatal hemorrhage, and even of tubercular cavities -in the lungs have been successfully dealt with, but the -twentieth century will see, I have no doubt, brilliant -results in thoracic surgery.</p> - -<p>One of the most striking injuries of the chest has recently -assumed a new importance, viz., wounds of the -heart itself. In several instances an opening has been -made in the bony and muscular walls of the chest, and -a wound of the heart itself has been sewed up. The -number is as yet small, but there have been several recoveries,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254">254</a></span> -which lead us to believe that here, too, the -limits of surgery have by no means been reached.</p> - -<p><dfn>Surgery of the Abdomen.</dfn>—Of the abdomen and the -pelvis a very different story can be told. These cavities -might almost be called the playground of the surgeon, -and the remarkable results which have been obtained -warrant us in believing that even greater results are -in store for us in the future.</p> - -<p>In the earlier part of this article I spoke of the advantages -of the study of the pathological anatomy or -the diseased condition of individual organs. Perhaps -no better illustration of the value of this can be given -than in the studies of appendicitis. This operation -has been one of the contributions to the surgery of the -world in which America has been foremost. While -there were one or two earlier papers, Willard Parker, -of New York, in 1867, first made the profession listen -to him when he urged that abscesses appearing above -the right groin should be operated on and the patient’s -life saved. But it was not until Fitz, of Boston, in 1888, -published his paper, in which he pointed out, as a result -of a study of a series of post-mortem examinations of -persons dying from such an abscess above the right -groin, that the appendix was the seat of the trouble, -that this so frequent disease was rightly understood -and rightly treated.</p> - -<p>As a result of the facts gathered in his paper, the -treatment was perfectly clear, not only that we ought -to operate in cases of abscess, but that in the case of -patients suffering from two or more attacks, and often -from even one attack of appendicitis, the appendix -should be removed to prevent such abscess.</p> - -<p>The mortality in cases in which such an abscess has -formed is, perhaps, quite twenty or twenty-five per cent., -whereas, if patients are operated on “in the interval,” -that is to say, between attacks, when the abdominal<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255">255</a></span> -cavity is free from pus, the mortality is scarcely more than -two or three per cent., and may be even less than that.</p> - -<p>Surgeons are often asked whether appendicitis is not -a fad, and whether our grandfathers ever had appendicitis, -etc. As a matter of fact, in my early professional -days, appendicitis was well known. It was called -“localized peritonitis” or localized “abscess,” but while -the disease was very frequent, its relation to the appendix -was not recognized until from his study of its pathology -an American pointed it out. Even now European surgeons, -with a few exceptions, are not alive to the need -for operation in such cases.</p> - -<p>There is little doubt that the great prevalence of grippe -during the last few years has increased the number of -cases of appendicitis, both of them being catarrhal conditions -of the lining membrane of the same continuous -tract of the lungs, the mouth, the stomach, and the intestines.</p> - -<p>One of the most fatal accidents that can befall a patient -is to have an ulcer of the stomach perforate so that the -contents of the stomach escape into the general abdominal -cavity. Until 1885 no one ventured to operate -in such a case. In an inaugural dissertation by Tinker, -of Philadelphia, two hundred and thirty-two cases of -such perforating ulcers of the stomach were reported, of -which one hundred and twenty-three recovered, a mortality -of 48.81 per cent. In not a few of them, if prompt -instead of late surgical help had been invoked, a very -different result would have been reported. If no operation -had been done, the mortality would have been one -hundred per cent.</p> - -<p>In cancer of the stomach itself we are able, as a rule, -to make a positive diagnosis only when a perceptible -tumor is found. By that time so many adhesions have -formed, and the infection has involved the neighboring -glands to such an extent, that it is impossible to remove<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256">256</a></span> -the tumor, but the statistics even here are not without -encouragement, at least for comfort if not for life. In -many cases the tumor has been removed and the stomach -and intestine joined together by various devices, and -the mortality, which is necessarily great, has been reduced -by Czerny to twelve per cent. and by Carle to -seven per cent. Even the entire stomach has been removed -in several cases, and recovery has followed in -about one-half. Most of these patients, however, have -died from a return of the disease.</p> - -<p>When, as a result of swallowing caustic lye or other -similar substances, the gullet (the œsophagus) becomes -contracted to such an extent that no food can be swallowed, -we now establish an opening into the stomach -through which a tube is inserted at meal-time, and the -patient has his breakfast, dinner, and supper poured -into his stomach through the tube. If the stricture -of the œsophagus is from malignant disease, of course -this only prolongs life by preventing a horrible death -by starvation, but in cases in which it is non-malignant -life is indefinitely prolonged. The mortality of such -an operation is very small.</p> - -<p>By a freak of nature or by disease the stomach sometimes -is narrowed in the middle, forming what is called -an “hour-glass stomach.” In such a case we open the -abdomen, make an opening into the two parts of the -stomach and unite the two so that we re-establish the -single cavity of the stomach. The mortality of the operation -is very slight, eight per cent. Again, sometimes -the stomach becomes unduly dilated, thus interfering -seriously with its function. A number of surgeons in -such cases have simply folded over the wall of the -stomach upon itself and have sewed the two layers together, -taking a plait or “tuck” in the stomach wall, -and have restored it to its normal capacity and function.</p> - -<p>One of the most important advances has been made<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257">257</a></span> -in the treatment of gall stones. The bile in the gall -bladder is in a state of quiescence, which is favorable -to a deposit of crystals from the bile. These crystals -become agglutinated together into larger or smaller -solid masses called gall stones. Sometimes the number -of these is very small, from one to four or five; sometimes -they accumulate in enormous numbers, several -hundreds having been reported in a number of instances. -When they are small they can escape through the duct -of the gall bladder into the bowel and create no disturbance, -but when they are large, so that they cannot make -their escape, they not uncommonly are causes not only -of serious discomfort and prolonged ill-health, but often -prove fatal. Nowadays one of the safest operations -of surgery is to open the abdomen and the gall bladder -and remove this menace to life, and the great majority -of such patients recover without any untoward symptoms. -Even large abscesses of the liver, and, what is -still more extraordinary, large tumors of the liver, are now -removed successfully. A year ago all of the reported -cases of tumor of the liver were collected which had been -operated from 1888 to 1898, seventy-six in all. The -termination in two cases was unknown, but of the other -seventy-four, sixty-three recovered and eleven died, a -mortality of only 14.9 per cent.</p> - -<p>The surgery of the intestines by itself is a subject -which could well occupy the entire space allowed to this -article. I can only, in a very superficial way, outline -what has been done. Hernia or rupture is a condition -in which through an opening in the abdominal -wall a loop of the bowel escapes. If it can be replaced -and kept within the abdomen by a suitable truss -this was the best we could do till within the last -ten or fifteen years. The safety and the painlessness -of modern surgery which have resulted from the introduction -of anæsthesia and antisepsis are such that now<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258">258</a></span> -no person suffering from such a hernia, unless for some -special personal reason, should be allowed to rely upon -a truss, which is always a more or less treacherous means -of retaining the hernia. We operate on all such cases -now with impunity. Coley has recently reported a series -of six hundred and thirty-nine cases, all of which -recovered with the exception of one patient. Even in -children, if a truss worn for a reasonable time, a year or -so, does not cure the rupture, operation affords an admirable -prospect of cure.</p> - -<p>Every now and then a band forms inside the abdomen, -stretching like a string across the cavity. If -a loop of bowel slips under such a band, it can be easily -understood that total arrest of the intestinal contents -ensues, a condition incompatible with life. There are -other causes for such “intestinal obstruction,” which -are too technical to be described in detail, but this may -be taken as a type of all. It is impossible, of course, to -tell before opening the abdomen precisely the cause of -the obstruction, but the fact is quickly determined in -most cases. If we open the abdomen promptly, we can -cut such a band or remove the other causes of obstruction -in the majority of cases, and if the operation has -not been too long delayed, the prospect of entire recovery -is good. The mortality which has followed such -operations has been considerable, and by that I mean, -say, over twenty per cent., but a very large number of the -fatal cases have been lost because the operation has been -delayed. In fact, it may be stated very positively that -the mere opening of the abdomen to find out precisely -the nature of any disease or injury is attended with but -little danger. If further surgical interference is required, -the danger will be increased proportionately to the extent -and gravity of such interference. But “exploratory -operations,” as we call them, are now undertaken -constantly with almost uniform success.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259">259</a></span> -Even in cancer of the bowel, we can prolong life, if we -cannot save it. Cancer of the bowel sooner or later produces -“obstruction” and so destroys life, but in such -cases we can either make a permanent opening in the -bowel above the cancer, and so relieve the constant pain -and distress which is caused by the obstruction, or, in a -great many cases, we make an opening in the bowel -above the cancer, and another below it, and, by uniting -the two openings, if I may so express it, “side-track” -the contents of the bowel. If the cancer has no adhesions -and the patient’s condition allows of it, we can cut out -the entire portion of the bowel containing the cancer, -unite the two ends, and thus re-establish the continuity -of the intestinal canal. As much as eight feet, nearly -one-third of the entire length of the bowel, have been removed -by Shepherd, of Montreal, and yet the patient recovered -and lived a healthy life.</p> - -<p>Similarly in gun-shot wounds, stab wounds, etc., involving -the intestine, the modern surgeon does not simply -stand by with folded hands and give opium and -morphine to make the patient’s last few hours or days -relatively comfortable, but he opens the abdomen, finds -the various perforations, closes them, and recovery has -followed even in cases in which as many as seventeen -wounds of the intestine have been produced by a gun-shot -wound.</p> - -<p>The kidney, until thirty years ago, was deemed almost -beyond our reach, but now entire volumes have been -written on the surgery of the kidney, and it is, one might -say, a frequent occurrence to see the kidney exposed, -sewed fast if it is loose, opened to remove a stone in its -interior, drained if there be an abscess, or, if it be hopelessly -diseased, it is removed in its entirety. The other -kidney, if not diseased, becomes equal to the work of -both.</p> - -<p>Of the pelvic organs, it would not be becoming to speak<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260">260</a></span> -in detail, but one operation I can scarcely omit: namely, -ovariotomy. One of my old teachers was Washington -L. Atlee, who, with his brother, was among the first -ovariotomists in this country who placed the operation -on a firm foundation. I heard a very distinguished -physician in 1862, in a lecture to his medical class, denounce -such men as “murderers”; but to-day how differently -does the entire profession look upon the operation! -Instead of condemning the surgeon because he did remove -such a tumor, the profession would condemn him -because he did not remove it. The operation had its -rise in America. Ephraim McDowell, of Kentucky, in -1809, first did the operation which now reflects so much -credit upon modern surgery. The mortality of the -Atlees was about one in three. Now, owing to the immense -improvement introduced by the antiseptic methods, -the deaths, in competent hands, are not over five per -cent., or even three per cent.</p> - -<p>The limits of this article compel me to stop with the -story very imperfectly told, but yet, perhaps, it has been -sufficient in detail to show somewhat of the astonishing -progress of surgery within the century, but especially -within the last quarter of the century.</p> - -<p>About two decades ago one of the foremost surgeons -of London, Mr. Erichsen, said, in a public address, that -“surgery had reached its limits.” How short was his -vision is shown by the fact that surgery at that time was -just at the beginning of its most brilliant modern chapter.</p> - -<p>We have reached, in many respects, apparently, the -limits of our success, but just as anæsthesia and antisepsis -and the Röntgen rays have opened new fields -wholly unsuspected until they were proclaimed, so I -have no doubt that the twentieth century will see means -and methods devised which will put to shame the surgery -of to-day as much as the surgery of to-day puts to shame -that of thirty years ago, and still more of a century ago.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261">261</a></span> -The methods by which this will be attained will be by the -more thorough and systematic study of disease and injury, -so as to better our means of diagnosis, and so prepare us -for immediate surgical interference, instead of delaying -it, as we now do in many cases, for want of certain knowledge; -by the use of new chemical and pharmaceutical -means to perfect our antisepsis and possibly to introduce -other methods of treatment; but, above all, we shall -obtain progress by the exact experimental methods of -the laboratory. We can never make progress except by -trying new methods. New methods must be tried either -on man or on animals, and as the former is not allowable, -the only way remaining to us is to test all new methods, -drugs, and applications first upon animals. He who restricts, -and, still more, he who would abolish our present -experiments upon animals, is, in my opinion, the -worst foe to the human race, and to animals, as well, for -they, as well as human beings, obtain the benefit derived -from the method. He may prate of his humanity, but -he is the most cruel man alive.</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">W. W. Keen.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265">265</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="ELECTRICITY"></a>ELECTRICITY</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> great importance which electricity has attained -in many departments of human activity is so constantly -evident that we have difficulty in realizing how -short is the time which has been occupied in its development. -The latter half of the nineteenth century must -ever remain memorable, not only for the great advances -in nearly all the useful arts, but for the peculiarly rapid -electric progress, and the profound effect which it has -had upon the lives and business of the people. In the -preceding century we find no evidences of the application -of electricity to any useful purpose. Few of the more -important principles of the science were then known. -Franklin’s invention of the lightning-rod was not intended -to utilize electric force, but to guard life and property -from the perils of the thunder-storm. The numerous -instructive experiments in frictional electricity, -the first-known form of electric manifestation except -lightning, made clear certain principles, such as conduction -and insulation, and served to distinguish the -two opposite electric conditions known as positive and -negative. Franklin’s kite experiment confirmed the -long-suspected identity of lightning and electric sparks. -It was not, however, until the discovery by Alexander -Volta, in 1799, of his pile, or battery, that electricity -could take its place as an agent of practical value. Volta, -when he made this great discovery, was following the -work of Galvani, begun in 1786. But Galvani in his -experiments mistook the effect for the cause, and so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266">266</a></span> -missed making the unique demonstration that two different -metals immersed in a solution could set up an -electric current. Volta, a professor in the University -of Pavia and a foreign member of the Royal Society -of England, communicated his discovery to the president -of the society in March, 1800, and brought to the -notice of the world the first means for obtaining a steady -flow of electricity. Before this event electric energy -had been known to the experimenter in pretty effects -of attraction and repulsion of light objects, in fitful -flashes of insignificant power, or, as it appeared in nature, -in the fearful bursts of energy during a thunders-torm, -uncontrolled and erratic. The analogous and -closely related phenomena of magnetism had already -found an important application in the navigator’s compass.</p> - -<p>The simplest facts of electro-magnetism, upon which -much of the later electrical developments depend, remained -entirely unknown until near the close of the -first quarter of the nineteenth century. Magnetism -itself, as exemplified in loadstone or in magnetized iron -or steel, had long before been consistently studied by -Dr. Gilbert, of Colchester, England, and in 1600 his -great work, <cite>De Magnete</cite>, was published. It is a first -example, and an excellent one, too, of the application -of the inductive method, so fruitful in after-years. The -restraints which a superstitious age had imposed upon -nature study were gradually removed, and at the beginning -of the century just past occasional decided -encouragement began to be given to physical research. -It was this condition which put into the hands of Humphry -Davy, of the Royal Institution, in London, at -the opening of the century, a voltaic battery of some -250 pairs of plates. With this a remarkably fruitful -era of electric discovery began. In 1802 Davy first -showed the electric arc or “arch” on a small scale between<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267">267</a></span> -pieces of carbon. He also laid the foundation -for future electro-chemical work by decomposing by -the battery current potash and soda, and thus isolating -the alkali metals, potassium and sodium, for the first -time. This was in 1807, and the result was not only -to greatly advance the youthful science of chemistry, -but to attract the attention of the world to a new power -in the hands of the scientific worker, electric current. -A fund was soon subscribed by “a few zealous cultivators -and patrons of science,” interested in the discovery -of Davy, and he had at his service in 1801 no less than -2000 cells of voltaic battery. With the intense currents -obtained from it he again demonstrated the wonderful -and brilliant phenomenon of the electric arc, by first -closing the circuit of the battery through terminals of -hardwood charcoal and then separating them for a short -distance. A magnificent arch of flame was maintained -between the separated ends, and the light from the charcoal -pieces was of dazzling splendor. Thus was born -into the world the electric arc light, of which there are -now many hundreds of thousands burning nightly in -our own country alone.</p> - -<p>Davy probably never imagined that his brilliant experiment -would soon play so important a part in the -future lighting of the world. He may never have regarded -it as of any practical value. In fact, many -years elapsed before any further attempt was made to -utilize the light of the electric arc. The reason for this -is not difficult to discover. The batteries in existence -were crude and gave only their full power for a very -short time after the circuit was closed. They were -subject to the very serious defect of rapid polarization, -whereby the activity was at once reduced. A long -period elapsed before this defect was removed. Davy -in his experiments had also noted the very intense heat -of the electric arc, and found that but few substances<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268">268</a></span> -escaped fusion or volatilization when placed in the heated -stream between the carbon electrodes. Here again he -was pioneer in very important and quite recent electric -work, employing the electric furnace, which has already -given rise to several new and valuable industries.</p> - -<p>The conduction of electricity along wires naturally -led to efforts to employ it in signalling. As early as -1774 attempts were made by Le Sage, of Geneva, to -apply frictional electricity to telegraphy. His work -was followed before the close of the century by other -similar proposals. Volta’s discovery soon gave a renewed -impetus to these efforts. It was easy enough -to stop and start a current in a line of wire connecting -two points, but something more than that was requisite. -A good receiver, or means for recognizing the presence -or absence of current in the wire or circuit, did not exist. -The art had to wait for the discovery of the effects of -electric current upon magnets and the production of -magnetism by such currents. Curiously, even in 1802 -the fact that a wire conveying a current would deflect -a compass needle was observed by Romagnosi, of Trente, -but it was afterwards forgotten, and not until 1819 was -any real advance made.</p> - -<p>It was then that Oersted, of Copenhagen, showed -that a magnet tends to set itself at right angles to the -wire conveying current and that the direction of turning -depends on the direction of the current. The study -of the magnetic effects of electric currents by Arago, -Ampère, and the production of the electro-magnet by -Sturgeon, together with the very valuable work of Henry -and others, made possible the completion of the electric -telegraph. This was done by Morse and Vail in America, -and almost simultaneously by workers abroad, but, before -Morse had entered the field, Professor Joseph Henry -had exemplified by experiments the working of electric -signalling by electro-magnets over a short line. It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269">269</a></span> -was Henry, in fact, who first made a practically useful -electro-magnet of soft iron. The history of the electric -telegraph teaches us that to no single individual is the -invention due. The Morse system had been demonstrated -in 1837, but not until 1844 was the first telegraph line -built. It connected Baltimore and Washington, and the -funds for defraying its cost were only obtained from -Congress after a severe struggle. This can easily be -understood, for electricity had not up to that time ever -been shown to have any practical usefulness. The -success of the Morse telegraph was soon followed by -the establishment of telegraph lines as a means of communication -between all the large cities and populous -districts. Scarcely ten years elapsed before the possibility -of a transatlantic telegraph was mooted. The -cable laid in 1858 was a failure. A few words passed, -and then the cable broke down completely. This was -found to be due to defects in construction. A renewed -effort to lay a cable was made in 1866, but disappointment -again followed: the cable broke in mid-ocean -and the work again ceased. The great task was successfully -accomplished in the following year, and the -pluck and pertinacity of those who were staking their -capital, if not their reputations for business sagacity, -were amply rewarded. Even the lost cable of 1866 was -found, spliced to a new cable, and completed soon after -as a second working line. The delicate instruments -for the working of these long cables were due to the -genius of Sir William Thomson, now Lord Kelvin, -whose other instruments for electrical measurement -have for years been a great factor in securing precision -both in scientific and practical testing. The number -of cables joining the Eastern and Western hemispheres -has been increased from time to time, and the opening of -a new cable is now an ordinary occurrence, calling for -little or no especial note.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270">270</a></span> -The introduction of the electric telegraph was followed -by the invention of various signalling systems, the -most important being the fire-alarm telegraph, as suggested -by Channing and worked out by Farmer. We -now, also, have automatic clock systems, in which a -master clock controls or gives movement to the hands -of distant clock dials by electric currents sent out over -the connecting or circuit wires. Automatic electric -signals are made when fire breaks out in a building, -and alarms are similarly rung when a burglar breaks -in. Not only do we have telegraphs which print words -and characters, as in the stock “ticker,” but in the form -known as the telautograph, invented by Dr. Elisha -Gray, the sender writes his message, which writing is -at the same time being reproduced at the receiving end -of the line. Even pictures for drawings are “wired” -by special instruments. The desirability of making one -wire connecting two points do a large amount of work, -and thus avoiding the addition of new lines, has led -to two remarkable developments of telegraphy. In -the duplex, quadruplex, and multiplex systems several -messages may at the same time be traversing a single -wire line without interference one with the other. In -the rapid automatic systems the working capacity of -the line is increased by special automatic transmitting -machines and rapid recorders, and the electric impulses -in the line itself follow each other with great speed.</p> - -<p>Improvement in this field has by no means ceased, -and new systems for rapid transmission are yet being -worked out. The object is to enlarge the carrying capacity -of existing lines connecting large centres of population. -The names of Wheatstone, Stearns, Edison, and -Delaney are prominent in connection with this work. -For use in telegraphy the originally crude forms of -voltaic battery, such as Davy used, were replaced by -the more perfect types such as the constant battery of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271">271</a></span> -Daniell, the nitric-acid battery of Grove, dating from -1836, and the carbon battery of Bunsen, first brought -out in 1842. Such was the power of the Grove and -Bunsen batteries that attention was again called to the -electric arc and to the possibility of its use for electric -illumination. Accordingly, we find that suggestions -were soon made for electric-arc lamps, to be operated -by these more powerful and constant sources of electric -current. The first example of a working type of an -arc lamp was that brought to notice by W. E. Staite, -in 1847, and his description of the lamp and the conditions -under which it could be worked is a remarkably -exact and full statement, considering the time of its -appearance. Staite even anticipated the most recent -phase of development in arc lighting, namely, the enclosure -of the light in a partially air-tight globe, to prevent -too rapid waste of the carbons by combustion in -the air. In a public address at Newcastle-on-Tyne, -in 1847, he advocated the use of the arc, so enclosed, -in mines, as obviating the danger of fire. But it was -a long time before the electric arc acquired any importance -as a practical illuminant. There was, indeed, -no hope of its success so long as the current had to be -obtained from batteries consuming chemicals and zinc. -The expense was too great, and the batteries soon became -exhausted. In spite of this fact, occasional exhibitions -of arc lighting were made, notably in 1856, -by Lacassagne and Thiers, in the streets of Paris.</p> - -<p>For this service they had invented an arc lamp involving -what is known as the differential principle, -afterwards applied so extensively to arc lamps. The -length of the arc or the distance between the carbons -of the lamp was controlled with great nicety, and the -light thus rendered very steady. Even as late as 1875 -batteries were occasionally used to work single electric -arc lamps for public exhibitions, or for demonstration<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272">272</a></span> -purposes in the scientific departments of schools. The -discovery of the means of efficiently generating electricity -from mechanical power constitutes, however, -the key-note of all the wonderful electrical work of the -closing years of the nineteenth century. It made electrical -energy available at low cost. Michael Faraday, -a most worthy successor of Davy at the Royal Institution, -in studying the relations between electric currents -and magnets, made the exceedingly important -observation that a wire, if moved in the field of a magnet, -would yield a current of electricity. Simple as the discovery -was, its effect has been stupendous. Following -his science for its own sake, he unwittingly opened -up possibilities of the greatest practical moment. The -fundamental principle of the future dynamo electric -machine was discovered by him. This was in 1831. -Faraday’s investigations were so complete and his -deductions so masterly, that little was left to be done -by others. Electro-magnetism was supplemented by -magneto-electricity. Both the electric motor and the -dynamo generator were now potentially present with us. -Faraday contented himself with pointing the way, leaving -the technical engineer to follow. In one of Faraday’s -experiments a copper disk mounted on an axis -passing through its centre was revolved between the -poles of a large steel magnet. A wire touched the periphery -of the disk at a selected position with respect to -the magnet, and another was in connection with the -axis. These wires were united through a galvanometer -or instrument for detecting electric current. A current -was noted as present in the circuit so long as -the disk was turned. Here, then, was the embryo dynamo. -The century closed with single dynamo machines -of over 5000 horse-power capacity, and with single -power stations in which the total electric generation -by such machines is 75,000 to 100,000 horse-power.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273">273</a></span> -So perfect is the modern dynamo that out of 1000 horse-power -expended in driving it, 950 or more may be delivered -to the electric line as electric energy. The electric -motor, now so common, is a machine like the dynamo, -in which the principle of action is simply reversed; -electric energy delivered from the lines becomes again -mechanical motion or power.</p> - -<p>Soon after Faraday’s discoveries in magneto-electricity -attempts were made to construct generators of electricity -from power. But the machines were small, crude, -and imperfect, and the results necessarily meagre.</p> - -<p>Pixii, in Paris, one year after Faraday’s discovery -was announced, made a machine which embodied in -its construction a simple commutator for giving the -currents a single direction of flow. This is the prototype -of the commutators now found on what are called continuous-current -dynamos. After Pixii followed Saxton, -Clarke, Wheatstone and Cooke, Estohrer, and others, -but not until 1854 was any very notable improvement -made or suggested. In that year Soren Hjorth, of Copenhagen, -described in a patent specification the principle -of causing the electric currents generated to traverse -coils of wire so disposed as to reinforce the magnetic -field of the machine itself. A year subsequently the -same idea was again more clearly set out by Hjorth. -This is the principle of the modern self-exciting dynamo, -the field magnets of which, very weak at the start, are -built up or strengthened by the currents from the armature -or revolving part of the machine in which power -is consumed to produce electricity.</p> - -<p>In 1856 Dr. Werner Siemens, of Berlin, well known -as a great pioneer in the electric arts, brought out the -Siemens armature, an innovation more valuable than -any other made up to that time. This was subsequently -used in the powerful machines of Wilde and Ladd. It -still survives in magneto call-bell apparatus for such work<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274">274</a></span> -as telephone signalling, in exploders for mines and blasting, -and in the simpler types of electroplating dynamos.</p> - -<p>The decade between 1860 and 1870 opened a new era -in the construction and working of dynamo machines -and motors. It is notable for two advances of very great -value and importance. Dr. Paccinotti, of Florence, in -1860, described a machine by which true continuous -currents resembling battery currents could be obtained. -Up to that time machines gave either rapidly alternating -or fluctuating currents, not steady currents in one direction. -The Paccinotti construction, in modified forms, -is now almost universally employed in dynamo machines, -and even where the form is now quite different -the Paccinotti type has been at least the forerunner, -and has undergone modifications to suit special ends -in view. Briefly, Paccinotti made his armature of a -ring of iron with iron projections between which the -coils of insulated wire were wound. Although full -descriptions of Paccinotti’s ring armature and commutator -were given out in 1864, his work attracted but -little attention until Gramme, in Paris, about 1870, -brought out the relatively perfect Gramme machine. -In the mean time the other great development of the -decade took place.</p> - -<p>Although Hjorth had, as stated before, put forward -the idea that a dynamo generator might itself furnish -currents for magnetizing its own magnets, this valuable -suggestion was not apparently worked out until 1866, -when a machine was constructed for Sir Charles Wheatstone. -This appears to have been the first self-exciting -machine in existence. Wheatstone read a paper before -the Royal Society in February, 1867, “On the Augmentation -of the Power of a Magnet by the Reaction thereon -of Currents Induced by the Magnet Itself.” This action -later became known as the reaction principle in dynamo -machines.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275">275</a></span> -As often happens, the idea occurred to other workers -in science almost simultaneously, and Dr. Werner Siemens -also read a paper in Berlin about a month earlier -than that of Wheatstone, clearly describing the reaction -principle. Furthermore, a patent specification had been -filed in the British Patent Office by S. A. Varley, December -24, 1866, clearly showing the same principle of -action, and he was, therefore, the first to put the matter -on record. The time was ripe for the appearance of machines -closely resembling the types now in such extended -use. Gramme, in 1870, adopting a modified -form of the Paccinotti ring and commutator, and employing -the reaction principle, first succeeded in producing -a highly efficient, compact, and durable continuous-current -dynamo. The Gramme machine was immediately -recognized as a great technical triumph. It was in -a sense the culmination of many years of development, -beginning with the early attempts immediately following -Faraday’s discovery, already referred to. Gramme -constructed his revolving armature of a soft iron wire -ring, upon which ring a series of small coils of insulated -wire were wound in successive radial planes. These -coils were all connected with a continuous wire and -from the junctions of the coils one with another connections -were taken to a range of copper bars insulated -from each other, constituting the commutator. In 1872 -Von Hefner Alteneck, in Berlin, modified the ring winding -of Gramme and produced the “drum winding,” -which avoided the necessity for threading wire through -the centre of the iron ring as in the Gramme construction. -The several coils of the drum were still connected, -as in Gramme’s machine, to the successive strips of the -commutator.</p> - -<p>In modern dynamos and motors the armature, usually -constructed of sheet-iron punchings, is a ring with projections -as in Paccinotti’s machine, and the coils of wire<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276">276</a></span> -are in most cases wound separately and then placed -in the spaces between the projections, constituting in -fact a form of drum winding. In the early 70’s a few -Gramme ring and Siemens drum machines had been -applied to the running of arc lights, one machine for -each light. There were also some Gramme machines -in use for electroplating.</p> - -<p>At the Centennial Exhibition, held at Philadelphia -in 1876, but two exhibits of electric-lighting apparatus -were to be found. Of these one was the Gramme and -the other the Wallace-Farmer exhibit. The Wallace-Farmer -dynamo machine is a type now obsolete. It -was not a good design, but the Wallace exhibit contained -other examples reflecting great credit on this -American pioneer in dynamo work. Some of these -machines were very similar in construction to later -forms which went into very extensive use. The large -search-lights occasionally used in night illumination -during the exhibitions were operated by the current -from Wallace-Farmer machines. The Gramme exhibit -was a remarkable exhibit for its time. Though not -extensive, it was most instructive. There were found in -it a dynamo running an arc lamp; a large machine -for electrolytic work, such as electroplating or electrotyping, -and, most novel and interesting of all, -one Gramme machine driven by power was connected -to another by a pair of wires and the second run as -a motor. This in turn drove a centrifugal-pump, and -raised water which flowed in a small fall or cataract. -A year or two previously the Gramme machine had -been accidentally found to be as excellent an electric -motor as it was a generating dynamo. The crude -motors of Jacobi, Froment, Davenport, Page, Vergnes, -Gaume, and many others, were thus rendered obsolete -at a stroke. The first public demonstration of -the working of one Gramme machine by another<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277">277</a></span> -was made by Fontaine at the Vienna Exhibition of -1873.</p> - -<p>Here, then, was a foreshadowing of the great electric-power -transmission plants of to-day; the suggestion of -the electric station furnishing power as well as light, and, -to a less degree, the promise of future railways using -electric power. Replace the centrifugal pump of this -modest exhibit by a turbine wheel, reverse the flow of -water so as to cause it to drive the electric motor so that -the machine becomes a dynamo, and, in like manner, -make of the dynamo a motor, and we exemplify in a simple -way recent great enterprises using water-power for -the generation of current to be transmitted over lines to -distant electric motors or lights.</p> - -<p>The Centennial Exhibition also marks the beginning—the -very birth, it may be said—of an electric invention -destined to become, before the close of the century, a -most potent factor in human affairs. The speaking telephone -of Alexander Graham Bell was there exhibited -for the first time to the savants, among whom was -the distinguished electrician and scientist Sir William -Thomson. For the first time in the history of the world -a structure of copper wire and iron spoke to a listening -ear. Nay, more, it both listened to the voice of the speaker -and repeated the voice at a far-distant point. The -instruments were, moreover, the acme of simplicity. -Within a year many a boy had constructed a pair of telephones -at an expenditure for material of only a few pennies. -In its first form the transmitting telephone was -the counterpart of the receiver, and they were reversible -in function. The transmitter was in reality a minute -dynamo driven by the aërial voice waves; the receiver, -a vibratory motor worked by the vibratory currents -from the transmitter and reproducing the aërial motions. -This arrangement, most beautiful in theory, was only -suited for use on short lines, and was soon afterwards<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278">278</a></span> -replaced by various forms of carbon microphone transmitter, -to the production of which many inventors had -turned their attention, notably Edison, Hughes, Blake, -and Hunnings. In modern transmitters the voice wave -does not furnish the power to generate the telephone current, -but only controls the flow of an already existing -current from a battery. In this way the effects obtainable -may be made sufficiently powerful for transmission -to listeners 1500 miles away.</p> - -<p>There is no need to dwell here upon the enormous -saving of time secured by the telephone and the profound -effect its introduction has had upon business and social -life. The situation is too palpable. Nevertheless, few -users of this wonderful invention realize how much -thought and skill have been employed in working out -the details of exchange switchboards, of signalling devices, -of underground cables and overhead wires, and -of the speaking instruments themselves. Few of those -who talk between Boston and Chicago know that in doing -so they have for the exclusive use of their voices a -total of over 1,000,000 pounds of copper wire in the single -line. There probably now exist in the United States -alone between 75,000 and 100,000 miles of hard-drawn -copper wire for long-distance telephone service, and over -150,000 miles of wire in underground conduits. There -are upward of three-quarters of a million telephones in -the United States, and, including both overhead and -underground lines, a total of more than half a million -miles of wire. Approximately one thousand million -conversations are annually conveyed.</p> - -<p>The possibility of sub-oceanic telephoning is frequently -discussed, but the problem thus far is not solved. It -involves grave difficulties, and we may hope that its -solution is to be one of the advances which will mark the -twentieth century’s progress.</p> - -<p>The advent of the telephone in 1876 seemed to stimulate<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279">279</a></span> -invention in the electric field to a remarkable degree. -Its immediate commercial success probably acted also -to inspire confidence in other proposed electric enterprises. -Greater attention than ever before began to be -given to the problem of electric lighting. An electric -arc lamp, probably the only one in regular use, had been -installed at Dungeness Light-house in 1862, after a long -set of trials and tests. It was fed by a Holmes magneto-electric -machine of the old type, very large and cumbrous -for the work. Numerous changes and improvements -had before 1878 been made in arc lamps by Serrin, Duboscq, -and many others. But the display of electric -light during the Paris Exposition of 1878 was the first -memorable use of the electric light on a large scale. The -splendid illumination of the Avenue de l’Opéra was a -grand object-lesson. The source of light was the “electric -candle” of Paul Jablochkoff, a Russian engineer. -It was a strikingly original and simple arc lamp. Instead -of placing the two carbons point to point, as had -been done in nearly all previous lamps, he placed them -side by side, with a strip of baked kaolin between them. -The candle so formed was supported in a suitable holder, -whereby, at the lower end, the two parallel carbons were -connected with the circuit terminals. By a suitable device -the arc was started at the top and burned down. -The electric candle seemed to solve the problem of allowing -complicated mechanism for feeding the carbons -to be discarded; but it survived only a short time. Owing -to unforeseen difficulties it was gradually abandoned, -after having served a great purpose in directing the attention -of the world to the possibilities of the electric arc -in lighting.</p> - -<p>Inventors in America were not idle. By the close of -1878, Brush, of Cleveland, had brought out his series -system of arc lights, including special dynamos, lamps, -etc., and by the middle of 1879 had in operation machines<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280">280</a></span> -each capable of maintaining sixteen arc lamps on one -wire. This was, indeed, a great achievement for that -time. Weston, of Newark, had also in operation circuits -of arc lamps, and the Thomson-Houston system had -just started in commercial work with eight arc lamps in -series from a single dynamo. Maxim and Fuller, in New -York, were working arc lamps from their machines, and -capital was being rapidly invested in new enterprises -for electric lighting. Some of the great electric manufacturing -concerns of to-day had their beginning at that -time. Central lighting stations began to be established -in cities, and the use of arc lights in street illumination -and in stores grew rapidly. More perfect forms of arc -lamps were invented, better generating dynamos and -regulating apparatus brought out. Factories for arc-light -carbon making were built. The first special electrical -exhibition was held in Paris in 1881. In the early -80’s, also, the business of arc lighting had become firmly -established, and soon the bulk of the work was done -under two of the leading systems. These were afterwards -brought together under one control, thus securing in the -apparatus manufactured a combination of the good -features of both. Until about 1892 nearly all the arc -lamps in use were worked under the series system, in -which the lights are connected one after another on a -circuit and traversed by the same current. This current -has a standard value, or is a constant current. Sometimes -as many as a hundred lamps were on one wire. As -the mains for the supply of incandescent lamps at constant -pressure, or potential, were extended, attention -was more strongly turned to the possibility of working -arc lights therefrom.</p> - -<p>Within a few years of the close of the century this -placing of arc lamps in branches from the same mains -which supply incandescent lamps became common, and -the enclosure of the arc in a partially air-tight globe, a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281">281</a></span> -procedure advocated by Staite, in 1847, was revived by -Howard, Marks, and others for saving carbons and attention -to the lamp. The enclosed arc lamp was also -found to be especially adapted to use in branches of the -incandescent lamp circuits, which had in cities become -greatly extended. The increasing employment of alternating -currents in the distribution of electric energy -has led also to the use of alternating current arc lamps, -and special current-regulating apparatus is now being -applied on a large scale to extended circuits of these -lamps. It can be seen from these facts that the art is -still rapidly progressing and the field ever widening. A -little over twenty years ago practically no arc lamps were -used. At the close of the century, they were numbered -by hundreds of thousands. The annual consumption -of carbons in this country has reached two -hundred millions.</p> - -<p>Almost simultaneously with the beginning of the commercial -work of arc lighting, Edison, in a successful -effort to provide a small electric lamp for general distribution -in place of gas, brought to public notice his carbon -filament incandescent lamp.</p> - -<p>A considerable amount of progress had previously -been made by various workers in attempting to reduce -the volume of light in each lamp and increase the number -of lights for a given power expended. Forms of incandescent -arc lamps, or semi-incandescent lamps, were -tried on a considerable scale abroad, but none have survived. -So, also, many attempts to produce a lamp giving -light by pure incandescence of solid conductors -proved for the most part abortive. Edison himself -worked for nearly two years on a lamp based upon the -old idea of incandescent platinum strips or wires, but -without success. The announcement of this lamp -caused a heavy drop in gas shares, long before the problem -was really solved by a masterly stroke in his carbon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282">282</a></span> -filament lamp. Curiously, the nearest approach to the -carbon filament lamp had been made in 1845, by Starr, -an American, who described in a British patent specification -a lamp in which electric current passed through -a thin strip of carbon kept it heated while surrounded by -a glass bulb in which a vacuum was maintained. Starr -had exhibited his lamps to Faraday, in England, and -was preparing to construct dynamos to furnish electric -current for them in place of batteries, but sudden death -put an end to his labors. The specification describing -his lamp is perhaps the earliest description of an incandescent -lamp of any promise, and the subsequently recorded -ideas of inventors up to the work of Edison seem -now to be almost in the nature of retrograde movements. -None of them were successful commercially. Starr, -who was only twenty-five years of age, is reported to -have died of overwork and worry in his efforts to perfect -his invention. His ideas were evidently far in advance -of his time.</p> - -<p>The Edison lamp differed from those which preceded -it in the extremely small section of the carbon strip rendered -hot by the current, and in the perfection of the vacuum -in which it was mounted. The filament was first -made of carbonized paper, and afterwards of bamboo carbon. -The modern incandescent lamp has for years past -been provided with a filament made by a chemical process. -The carbon formed is exceedingly homogeneous and of -uniform electric resistance. Edison first exhibited his -lamp in his laboratory at Menlo Park, New Jersey, in -December, 1879; but before it could be properly utilized -an enormous amount of work had to be done. His task -was not merely the improvement of an art already existing; -it was the creation of a new art. Special dynamo -machines had to be invented and constructed for -working the lamps; switches were needed for connecting -and disconnecting lamps and groups of lamps; meters<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283">283</a></span> -for measuring the consumption of electric energy were -wanted; safety fuses and cut-offs had to be provided; -electroliers or fixtures to support the lamp were required; -and, lastly, a complete system of underground mains -with appurtenances was a requisite for city plants.</p> - -<p>Even the steam-engines for driving the dynamos -had to be remodelled and improved for electric work, -and ten years of electric lighting development did more -towards the refinement and perfection of steam-engines -than fifty years preceding. Steadiness of lights meant -the preservation of steady speed in the driving machinery. -The Pearl Street station in New York City was the first -installation for the supply of current for incandescent -lighting in a city district. The constant pressure dynamos -were gradually improved and enlarged. The details -of all parts of the system were made more perfect, -and in the hands of Edison and others the incandescent -lamps, originally of high cost, were much cheapened -and the quality of the production was greatly improved. -Lamps originally cost one dollar each. The best lamps -that are made can be had at present for about one-fifth -that price. Millions of incandescent lamps are annually -manufactured. Great lighting stations furnish the current -for the working of these lamps, some stations containing -machinery aggregating many thousands of horse-power -capacity. Not only do these stations furnish -electric energy for the working of arc lamps and incandescent -lamps, but, in addition, for innumerable motors -ranging in size from the small desk fan of one-tenth -horse-power up to those of hundreds of horse-power. -The larger sizes replace steam or hydraulic power for -elevators, and many are used in shops and factories -for driving machinery such as printing-presses, machinery -tools, and the like.</p> - -<p>In spite of the fact that it was well known that a good -dynamo when reversed could be made a source of power,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284">284</a></span> -few electric motors were in use until a considerable time -after the establishment of the first lighting stations. -Even in 1884, at the Philadelphia Electrical Exhibition, -only a few electric motors were shown. Not until -1886 or thereafter did the “motor load” of an electric -station begin to be a factor in its business success. The -motors supplied are an advantageous adjunct, inasmuch -as they provide a day load, increasing the output of the -station at a time when the lighting load is small and -when the machinery in consequence would, without -them, have remained idle. The growth of the application -of electric motors in the closing years of the century -has been phenomenal, even leaving out of consideration -their use in electric railways.</p> - -<p>Twenty years ago an electric motor was a curiosity; -fifty years ago crude examples run by batteries were -only to be occasionally found in cabinets of scientific -apparatus. Machinery Hall, at the Centennial Exhibition -of 1876, typified the mill of the past, never again -to be reproduced, with its huge engine and lines of heavy -shafting and belts conveying power to the different -tools or machines in operation. The modern mill or -factory has its engines and dynamos located wherever -convenient, its electric lines and numerous motors connected -thereto, and each of them either driving comparatively -short lines of shafting or attached to drive single -pieces of machinery. The wilderness of belts and pulleys -which used to characterize a factory is gradually -being cleared away, and electric distribution of power -substituted. Moreover, the lighting of the modern mill -or factory is done from the same electric plant which -distributes power.</p> - -<p>The electric motor has already partly revolutionized -the distribution of power for stationary machinery, but -as applied to railways in place of animal power the revolution -is complete. The period which has elapsed since<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285">285</a></span> -the first introduction of electric railways is barely a dozen -years. It is true that a few tentative experiments in -electric traction were made some time in advance of 1888, -notably by Siemens, in Berlin, in 1879 and 1880, by -Stephen D. Field, by T. A. Edison, at Menlo Park, by -J. C. Henry, by Charles A. Van Depoele, and others. -If we look farther back we find efforts such as that of -Farmer, in 1847, to propel railway cars by electric motors -driven by currents from batteries carried on the -cars. These efforts were, of course, doomed to failure, -for economical reasons. Electric energy from primary -batteries was too costly, and if it had been cheaper, the -types of electric motor used yielded so small a return -of power for the electric energy spent in driving them -that commercial success was out of the question. These -early efforts were, however, instructive, and may now -be regarded as highly suggestive of later work. Traction -by the use of storage batteries carried on an electric -car has been tried repeatedly, but appears not to be able -to compete with systems of direct supply from electric -lines. The plan survives, however, in the electric automobile, -many of which have been put into service within -a year or two. The electric automobile is not well fitted -for country touring; it is best adapted to cities, where -facilities for charging and caring for the batteries can -be had. Moreover, the electric carriage is of all automobile -carriages the most easily controlled, most ready; -it emits no smell or hot gases and is nearly noiseless.</p> - -<p>About 1850, Hall, a well-known instrument maker -of Boston, catalogued a small toy electric locomotive -dragging a car upon rails which were insulated and -connected with a stationary battery of two Grove cells. -This arrangement was sold as a piece of scientific apparatus, -and appears to be the first example of an electrically -driven vehicle connected by rolling contacts to an -immovable energy source. Other early experimenters,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286">286</a></span> -such as Siemens, Field, and Daft, subsequently to Hall, -used in actual railway work the supply by insulated -tracks. This was supplanted later by overhead insulated -wires or by the insulated third rail. Siemens & -Halske, of Berlin, used a special form of overhead supply -in 1881, and during the electrical exhibition in Paris -in that year, a street tramway line was run by them. -Later, Edison experimented with a third-rail-supply line -at Menlo Park; and at Portrush, in Ireland, an actual -railway was put in operation by Siemens & Halske, using -the third-rail system. This was about 1883. The power -of the Portrush railway was that of a water-wheel driving -the generating dynamo.</p> - -<p>The modern overhead trolley, or under-running trolley, -as it is called, seems to have been first invented by -Van Depoele, and used by him in practical electric railway -work about 1886 and thereafter. The universality -of this invention for overhead supply marks the device -as a really important advance in the art of electric -traction. Van Depoele was also a pioneer in the use -of an underground conduit, which he employed successfully -in Toronto in 1884. The names of Edward -M. Bentley and Walter H. Knight stand out prominently -in connection with the first use of an underground conduit, -tried under their plans in August, 1884, at Cleveland, -on the tracks of the horse-railway company.</p> - -<p>We have barely outlined the history of the electric-motor -railway up to the beginning of a period of wonderful -development, resulting in the almost complete replacement -by electric traction of horse traction or tramway -lines, all within an interval of scarcely more than ten -years.</p> - -<p>The year 1888 may be said to mark the beginning -of this work, and in that year the Sprague Company, -with Frank J. Sprague at its head, put into operation -the electric line at Richmond, Virginia, using the under-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287">287</a></span>running -trolley. Mr. Sprague had been associated with -Edison in early traction work, and was well known in -connection with electric-motor work in general. The -Richmond line was the first large undertaking. It had -about thirteen miles of track, numerous curves, and -grades of from three to ten per cent. The enterprise -was one of great hardihood, and but for ample financial -backing and determination to spare no effort or expenditure -conducive to success, must certainly have failed. -The motors were too small for the work, and there had -not been found any proper substitute for the metal commutator -brushes on the motors—a source of endless -trouble and of an enormous expense for repairs. Nevertheless, -the Richmond installation, kept in operation -as it was in spite of all difficulties, served as an object-lesson, -and had the effect of convincing Mr. Henry M. -Whitney and the directors of the West End Street Railway, -of Boston, of the feasibility of equipping the entire -railway system of Boston electrically. Meanwhile the -merging of the Van Depoele and Bentley-Knight interests -into the Thomson-Houston Electric Light Company -brought a new factor into the field, the Sprague -interests being likewise merged with the Edison General -Electric Company.</p> - -<p>The West End Company, with two hundred miles of -track in and around Boston, began to equip its lines in -1888 with the Thomson-Houston plant. The success of -this great undertaking left no doubt of the future of electric -traction. The difficulties which had seriously threatened -future success were gradually removed.</p> - -<p>The electric railway progress was so great in the -United States that about January 1, 1891, there were -more than two hundred and forty lines in operation. -About thirty thousand horses and mules were replaced -by electric power in the single year of 1891. In 1892 -the Thomson-Houston interests and those of the Edison<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288">288</a></span> -General Electric Company were merged in the General -Electric Company, an event of unusual importance, as -it brought together the two great competitors in electric -traction at that date. Other electric manufacturers, chief -among which was the Westinghouse Company, also entered -the field and became prominent factors in railway -extension. In a few years horse traction in the -United States on tramway lines virtually disappeared. -Many cable lines were converted to electric lines, and -projects such as the Boston Subway began to be -planned. Not the least of the advantages of electric -traction is the higher speed attainable with safety. The -comfort and cleanliness of the cars, lighted brilliantly -at night, and heated in winter by the same source of energy -which is used to propel them, are important factors.</p> - -<p>All these things, together with the great extension of -the lines into suburban and country districts, and the -interconnection of the lines of one district with those -of another, cannot fail to have a decidedly beneficial -effect upon the life, habits, and health of the people. -While the United States and Canada have been and -still are the theatre of the enormous advance in electric -traction, as in other electric work, many electric car -lines have in recent years been established in Great -Britain and on the continent of Europe. Countries -like Japan, Australia, South Africa, and South America -have also in operation many electric trolley lines, -and the work is rapidly extending. Most of this work, -even in Europe, has been carried out either by importation -of equipment from America, or by apparatus -manufactured there, but following American practice -closely. The bulk of the work has been done with -the overhead wire and under-running trolley, but there -are notable instances of the use of electric conductors in -underground slotted conduits, chief of which are the -great systems of street railway in New York City.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289">289</a></span> -In Chicago the application of motor-cars in trains upon -the elevated railway followed directly upon the practical -demonstration at the World’s Fair of the capabilities of -third-rail electric traction on the Intramural Elevated -Railway, and the system is rapidly extending so as to -include all elevated city roads. A few years will doubtless -see the great change accomplished.</p> - -<p>The motor-car, or car propelled by its own motors, has -also been introduced upon standard steam roads to a -limited extent as a supplement to steam traction. The -earliest of these installations are the one at Nantasket, -Massachusetts, and that between Hartford and New -Britain, in Connecticut. A number of special high-speed -lines, using similar plans, have gone into operation in -recent years. The problem of constructing electric motors -of sufficient robustness for heavy work and controlling -them effectively was not an easy one, and the difficulties -were increased greatly because of the placing of -the motors under the car body, exposed to wet, to dust -and dirt of road. The advantage of the motor-car, or -motor-car train, is that the traction or hold upon the track -increases with the increase of the weight or load carried. -It is thus able to be accelerated rapidly after a stop, and -also climb steep grades without slipping its wheels. -Nevertheless, there are circumstances which favor the -employment of a locomotive at the head of a train, as in -steam practice. This is the case in lines where a train -of coal or ore cars is drawn by electric mining locomotives. -Many such plants are in operation, and, at the -same time the electric power is used to drive fans for ventilating, -pumps for drainage, electric hoists, etc., besides -being used for lighting the mines. The trains in the -tunnels of the Metropolitan Underground Railway of -London have for many years been operated by steam -locomotives with the inevitable escape of steam, foul, -suffocating gases, and more or less soot.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290">290</a></span> -A number of years ago the tunnel of the City and -South London Railway was put into successful operation -with electric locomotives drawing the trains of cars, -and the nuisance caused by steam avoided. This work -recalls the early efforts of Field, of Daft, and Bentley -and Knight in providing an electric locomotive for replacing -the steam plant of the elevated roads in New -York City. Well-conceived as many of these plans -were, electric traction had not reached a sufficient development, -and the efforts were abandoned after several -more or less successful trials. It is now seen that the -motor-car train may advantageously replace the locomotive-drawn -train in such instances as these elevated -railways.</p> - -<p>The three largest and most powerful electric locomotives -ever put into service are those which are employed -to take trains through the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad -tunnel at Baltimore. They have been in service about -seven or eight years, and are fully equal in power to the -large steam locomotives used on steam roads. Frequently -trains of cars, including the steam locomotive -itself, are drawn through the tunnel by these huge electric -engines, the fires on the steam machines being for -the time checked so as to prevent fouling the air of the -tunnel. There was opened, in London, in 1900, a new -railway called the Central Underground, equipped with -twenty-six electric locomotives for drawing its trains. -The electric and power equipment, which embodied in -itself the latest results of American practice, was also -manufactured in America to suit the needs of the road. -Other similar railways are in contemplation in London -and in other cities of Europe. As on the elevated roads -in New York City, the replacement of underground -steam traction, where it exists, by electric traction is -evidently only a question of a few years.</p> - -<p>An electric railway may exemplify a power-transmission<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291">291</a></span> -system in which power is delivered to moving -vehicles. But the distances so covered are not generally -more than a few miles from the generating station. Where, -however, abundant water-power exists, as at Niagara, -or where fuel is very expensive and power is to be had -only at great distances from the place at which it is to be -used, electricity furnishes the most effective means for -transmission and distribution. Between the years 1880 -and 1890 the device called alternating current transformer -was developed to a considerable degree of perfection. -It is, in reality, a modified induction coil, consisting -of copper wire and iron, whereby a current sent -through one of its coils will induce similar currents in -the other coils of apparatus. It has the great advantage -of having no moving parts. Faraday, in 1831, -discovered the fundamental principle of the modern -transformer. Not only, however, will the current in one -coil of the apparatus generate by induction a new current -in an entirely separate coil or circuit, but by suitably -proportioning the windings we may exchange, as -it were, a large low-pressure current for a small but high-pressure -current, or <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">vice versa</i>. This exchange may be -made with a very small percentage of loss of energy. -These valuable properties of the transformer have rendered -it of supreme importance in recent electrical extension. -The first use made of it, in 1885–86, was to -transform a high-pressure current into one of low pressure -in electric lighting, enabling a small wire to be used -to convey electric energy at high pressure, and without -much loss, to a long distance from the station. This -energy at high pressure reaches the transformer placed -within or close to the building to be lighted. A low-pressure -safe current is conveyed from the transformer -to the wires connected to the lamps. In this way a current -of two thousand volts, an unsafe and unsuitable -pressure for incandescent lighting, is exchanged for one<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292">292</a></span> -of about one hundred volts, which is quite safe. In -this way, also, the supply station is enabled to reach -a customer too far away to be supplied directly with -current at one hundred volts, without enormous expense -for copper conductors.</p> - -<p>The alternating current transformer not only greatly -extended the radius of supply from a single station, but -also enabled the station to be conveniently located where -water and coal could be had without difficulty. It also -permitted the distant water-powers to become sources -of electric energy for lighting, power, or for other service. -For example, a water-power located at a distance of fifty -to one hundred miles or more from a city, or from a large -manufacturing centre where cost of fuel is high, may -be utilized as follows: A power-station will be located -upon the site of the water-power, and the dynamos therein -will generate electricity at, say, two thousand volts -pressure. By means of step-up transformers this will -be exchanged for a current of thirty thousand volts for -transmission over a line of copper or aluminum wire to -the distant consumption area. Here there will be a set of -step-down transformers which will exchange the thirty-thousand-volt -line current for one of so low a pressure as -to be safe for local distribution to lamps, to motors, etc., -either stationary or upon a railway. The same transmission -plant may simultaneously supply energy for -lighting, for power, for heat, and for charging storage -batteries. It may, therefore, be employed both day and -night.</p> - -<p>These long-distance power transmission plants are -generally spoken of as “two-phase,” “three-phase,” or -“polyphase” systems. Before 1890 no such plants existed. -A large number of such installations are now -working over distances of a few miles up to one hundred -miles. They differ from what are known as single-phase -alternating systems in employing, instead of a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293">293</a></span> -single alternating current, two, three, or more, which -are sent over separate lines, and in which the electric -impulses are not simultaneous, but follow each other in -regular succession, overlapping each other’s dead points, -so to speak. Early suggestions of such a plan, about -1880, and thereafter, by Bailey, Deprez, and others, bore -no fruit, and not until Tesla’s announcement of his polyphase -system, in 1888, was much attention given to the -subject. A widespread interest in Tesla’s work was invoked, -but several years elapsed before engineering difficulties -were overcome. This work was done mainly -by the technical staffs of the large manufacturing companies, -and it was necessary to be done before any notable -power transmissions on the polyphase system could be established. -After 1892 the growth became very rapid.</p> - -<p>The falls of Niagara early attracted the attention of -engineers to the possibility of utilizing at least a fraction -of the power. It was seen that several hundred thousand -horse-power might be drawn from it without materially -affecting the fall, itself equivalent to several millions of -horse-power. A gigantic power-station has lately been established -at Niagara, taking water from a distance above -the falls and delivering it below the falls through a long -tunnel which forms the tail race. Ten water-wheels, located -in an immense wheel-pit about two hundred feet deep, -each wheel of a capacity of five thousand horse-power, -drive large vertical shafts, at the upper end of which are -located the large two-phase dynamos, each of five thousand -horse-power. The electric energy from these machines -is in part raised in pressure by huge transformers -for transmission to distant points, such as the city of -Buffalo, and a large portion is delivered to the numerous -manufacturing plants located at moderate distances -from the power-station. Besides the supply of energy -for lighting, and for motors, including railways, other -recent uses of electricity to which we have not yet alluded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294">294</a></span> -are splendidly exemplified at Niagara. Davy’s brilliant -discovery of the alkali metals, sodium and potassium, -at the opening of the century, showed the great chemical -energy of the electric current. Its actions were afterwards -carefully studied, notably by the illustrious Faraday, -whose discoveries in connection with magnetism -and magneto-electricity have been briefly described. -The electric current was found to act as a most potent -chemical force, decomposing and recomposing many -chemical compounds, dissolving and depositing metals. -Hence, early in the century arose the art of electroplating -of metals, such as electro-gilding, silver-plating, -nickel-plating, and copper deposition as in electrotyping. -These arts are now practised on a very large scale, and -naturally have affected the whole course of manufacturing -methods during the century. Moreover, since -the introduction of dynamo current, electrolysis has -come to be employed in huge plants, not only for separating -metals from each other, as in refining them, but in -addition for separating them from their ores, for the -manufacture of chemical compounds before unknown, -and for the cheap production of numerous substances -of use in the various arts on a large scale. Vast quantities -of copper are refined, and silver and gold often -obtained from residues in sufficient amount to pay well -for the process.</p> - -<p>At Niagara also are works for the production of the -metal aluminum from its ores. Similar works exist -at other places here and abroad where power is cheap. -This metal, which competes in price with brass, bulk -for bulk, was only obtainable before its electric reduction -at $25 to $30 per pound. The metal sodium is also -extracted from soda. A large plant at Niagara also uses -the electric current for the manufacture of chlorine for -bleach, and caustic soda, both from common salt. Chlorate -of potassium is also made at Niagara by electrolysis.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295">295</a></span> -The field of electro-chemistry is, indeed, full of great -future possibilities. Large furnaces heated by electricity, -a single one of which will consume more than -a thousand horse-power, exist at Niagara. In these -furnaces is manufactured from coke and sand, by the -Acheson process, an abrasive material called carborundum, -which is almost as hard as diamond, but quite -low in cost. It is made into slabs and into wheels for -grinding hard substances. The electric furnace furnishes -also the means for producing artificial plumbago, -or graphite, almost perfectly pure, the raw material being -coke powder.</p> - -<p>A large amount of power from Niagara is also consumed -for the production in special electric arc furnaces -of carbide of calcium from coke and lime. This is the -source of acetylene gas, the new illuminant, which is -generated when water is brought into contact with the -carbide. The high temperature of the electric furnace -thus renders possible chemical actions which under -ordinary furnace heat would not take place. Henri -Moissan, a French scientist, well known for his brilliant -researches in electric furnace work, has even shown -that real diamonds can be made under special conditions -in the electric furnace. He has, in fact, probably practised -in a small way what has occurred on a grand scale -in nature, resulting in diamond fields such as those -at Kimberley. One problem less is thus left to be solved. -The electro-chemical and kindred arts are practised -not alone at Niagara, but at many other places where -power is cheap. Extensive plants have grown up, -mostly within the five years before the close of the century. -All of the great developments in this field have -come about within the last decade.</p> - -<p>The use of electricity for heating is not confined to -electric furnaces, in which the exceedingly high temperature -obtainable is the factor giving rise to success. While<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296">296</a></span> -it is not likely that electricity will soon be used for general -heating, special instances, such as the warming of electric -cars in winter by electric heaters, the operation of -cooking appliances by electric current, the heating of -sad-irons and the like, give evidence of the possibilities -should there ever be found means for the generation of -electric energy from fuel with such high efficiency as eighty -per cent. or more. Present methods give, under most -favorable conditions, barely ten per cent., ninety per cent. -of the energy value of the fuel being unavoidably wasted.</p> - -<p>Another application of the heating power of electric -currents is found in the Thomson electric welding process, -the development of which has practically taken place -in the past ten years. In this process an exceedingly -large current, at very low electric pressure, traverses -a joint between two pieces of metal to be united. It -heats the joint to fusion or softening; the pieces are -pushed together and welded. Here the heat is generated -in the solid metal, for at no time during the operation -are the pieces separated. The current is usually obtained -from a welding transformer, an example of an -extreme type of step-down transformer. Current at -several hundred volts passed into the primary winding -is exchanged for an enormous current at only two or -three volts in the welding circuit in which the work -is done. The present uses of this electric welding process -are numerous and varied. Pieces of most of the -metals and alloys, before regarded as unweldable, are -capable of being joined not only to pieces of the same -metal, but also to different metals. Electric welding -is applied on the large scale, making joints in wires -or rods, for welding wagon and carriage wheel tires, -for making barrel-hoops and bands for pails, for axles -of vehicles, and for carriage framing. It has given rise -to special manufactures, such as electrically welded -steel pipe or tube, wire fencing, etc. It is used for welding<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297">297</a></span> -together the joints of steel car-rails, for welding -teeth in saws, for making many parts of bicycles, and in -tool making. An instance of its peculiar adaptability -to unusual conditions is the welding of the iron bands -embedded within the body of a rubber vehicle tire for -holding the tire in place. For this purpose the electric -weld has been found almost essential.</p> - -<p>Another branch of electric development concerns the -storage of electricity. The storage battery is based -upon principles discovered by Gaston Planté, and applied, -since 1881, by Brush, by Faure, and others. Some -of the larger lighting stations employ as reservoirs of -electric energy large batteries charged by surplus dynamo -current. This is afterwards drawn upon when the -consumer’s load is heavy, as during the evening. The -storage battery is, however, a heavy, cumbrous apparatus, -of limited life, easily destroyed unless guarded -with skill. If a form not possessing these faults be ever -found, the field of possible application is almost limitless.</p> - -<p>The above by no means complete account of the progress -in electric applications during the century just closed -should properly be supplemented by an account of the -accompanying great advances regarded from the purely -scientific aspect. It is, however, only possible to make -a brief reference thereto within the limits of this article. -The scientific study of electricity and the application of -mathematical methods in its treatment has kept busy a -host of workers and drawn upon the resources of the -ablest minds the age has produced. Gauss, Weber, -Ampère, Faraday, Maxwell, Helmholtz, are no longer -with us. Of the early founders of the science we have -yet such men as Lord Kelvin, formerly Sir William -Thomson, Mascart, and others, still zealous in scientific -work. Following them are a large number, notable -for valuable contributions to the progress of electrical -science, in discoveries, in research, and in mathematical<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_298">298</a></span> -treatment of the various problems presented. Modern -magnetism took form in the hands of Rowland, Hopkinson, -Ewing, and many other able workers. Maxwell’s -electro-magnetic theory of light is confirmed by -the brilliant researches of the late Dr. Hertz, too early -lost to science. Hertz proved that all luminous phenomena -are in essence electrical. The wireless telegraphy -of to-day is a direct outcome of Hertz’s experiments -on electric waves. It is but little more than ten -years since Hertz announced his results to the world. -His work, supplemented by that of Branly, Lodge, Marconi, -and others, made wireless telegraphy a possibility.</p> - -<p>The wonderful X-ray, and the rich scientific harvest -which has followed the discovery by Röntgen of -invisible radiation from a vacuum tube, was preceded -by much investigation of the effects of electric discharges -in vacuum tubes, and Hittorf, followed by Crookes, -had given special study to these effects in very high -or nearly perfect vacua. Crookes, though especially enriching -science by his work, missed the peculiar X-ray, -which, nevertheless, must have been emitted from many -of his vacuum tubes, not only in his hands, but in those -of subsequent students. It was as late as 1896 that -Röntgen announced his discovery. Since that time -several other sources of invisible radiation have been -discovered, more or less similar in effect to the radiations -from a vacuum tube, but emitted, singular as the -fact is, from rare substances extracted from certain -minerals. Leaving out of consideration the great value -of the X-ray to physicians and surgeons, its effect in -stimulating scientific inquiry has almost been incalculable. -The renewed study of effects of electric discharge -in vacuum tubes has already, in the work of -such investigators as Lenard, J. J. Thomson, and others, -apparently carried the subdivision of matter far beyond -the time-honored chemical atom, and has gone far towards<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_299">299</a></span> -showing the essential unity of all the chemical elements. -It is as unlikely that the mystery of the material -universe will ever be completely solved as it is that we can -gain an adequate conception of infinite space or time. -But we can at least extend the range of our mental vision -of the processes of nature as we do our real vision into -space depths by the telescope and spectroscope. There -can now be no question that electric conditions and actions -are more fundamental than many hitherto so regarded.</p> - -<p>The nineteenth century closed with many important -problems in electrical science unsolved. What great -or far-reaching discoveries are yet in store, who can -tell? What valuable practical developments are to -come, who can predict? The electrical progress has -been great—very great—but after all only a part of -that grander advance in so many other fields. The -hands of man are strengthened by the control of mighty -forces. His electric lines traverse the mountain passes -as well as the plains. His electric railway scales the -Jungfrau. But he still spends his best effort, and has -always done so, in the construction and equipment of -his engines of destruction, and now exhausts the mines -of the world of valuable metals, for ships of war, whose -ultimate goal is the bottom of the sea. In this also -electricity is made to play an increasingly important -part. It trains the guns, loads them, fires them. It -works the signals and the search-lights. It ventilates -the ship, blows the fires, and lights the dark spaces. -Perhaps all this is necessary now, and, if so, well. But -if a fraction of the vast expenditure entailed were turned -to the encouragement of advance in the arts and employments -of peace in the twentieth century, can it be -doubted that, at the close, the nineteenth century might -come to be regarded, in spite of its achievements, as a -rather wasteful, semi-barbarous transition period?</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">Elihu Thomson.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_303">303</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="PHYSICS"></a>PHYSICS</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap b"><span class="smcap1">On</span> January 7, 1610, Galileo, turning his telescope -towards Jupiter, was the first to see the beautiful -system of that planet in which the universe is epitomized. -He had already studied the variegated surface of the moon, -and he had seen the spots upon the sun. A little later, -in spite of the feeble power of his instrument, he had discovered -that the sun rotates upon an axis, and something -of the wonderful nature of the planet Saturn had been -revealed to him. The overwhelming evidence thus afforded -of the truth of the hypothesis of Copernicus made -him its chief exponent. The time had come for man to -know, as he had never known or even dreamed before, -his true relation to the universe of which he was so insignificant -a part. In a single year nearly all of these -capital discoveries were made. It was truly an era of -intellectual expansion; never before and never since has -man’s intellectual horizon enlarged with such enormous -rapidity. One needs little imagination to share with -this ardent philosopher the enthusiasm of the moment -when, because some, fearing the evidence of their senses, -refused to look through the slender tube, he wrote to Kepler: -“Oh, my dear Kepler, how I wish we could have -one hearty laugh together!... Why are you not here? -What shouts of laughter we should have at this glorious -folly!”</p> - -<p>Galileo died in 1642, and in the same year Newton -was born. When twenty-four years old he “began to -think of gravity extending to the orb of the moon,” and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_304">304</a></span> -before the end of the century he had discovered and established -the great law of universal gravitation. Thus, -at the end of the seventeenth century, the foundations of -modern physics were in place. During the eighteenth -century they were much built upon, but it was the nineteenth -that witnessed not only the greatest advance in -detail, but the most important generalizations made since -the time of Galileo and Newton.</p> - -<p>In endeavoring to present to the intelligent but perhaps -unscientific reader a brief review of the accomplishments -of that “wonderful century” in the domain -of physics, one must not attempt more than an outline -of greater events, and it will be convenient to arrange -them under the several principal subdivisions of the -science, according to the usually accepted classification.</p> - -<h3>HEAT</h3> - -<p>Although more than one philosopher of the seventeenth -and eighteenth centuries suggested the identity -of heat and molecular motion, the impression made was -not lasting, and up to very near the beginning of the -nineteenth century the <em>caloric</em> theory was accepted almost -without dispute. This theory implied that heat -was a subtle fluid, definite quantities of which were added -to or subtracted from material substances when they became -hot or cold. As carefully conducted experiments -seemed to show that a body weighed no more or no less -when hot than when cold, it was necessary to attribute to -this fluid called caloric the mysterious property of imponderability, -that is, unlike all forms of ordinary matter, -it possessed no weight. To avoid calling it matter, it -was by many classed with light, electricity, and magnetism, -as one of the <em>imponderable agents</em>. Various other -properties were attributed to caloric, necessary to the -reasonable explanation of a steadily increasing array<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_305">305</a></span> -of experimental facts. It was declared to be elastic, its -particles being mutually self-repellent. It was thought -to attract ordinary matter, and an ingenious theory of -caloric was constructed, modelled upon Newton’s famous -but erroneous corpuscular theory of light. During -the latter part of the eighteenth century Joseph -Black, professor in the Universities of Glasgow and -Edinburgh, developed his theory of <em>latent heat</em>, which, -although founded upon a false notion of the nature of -heat, was a most important contribution to science. The -downfall of the caloric theory must be largely credited -to the work of a famous American who published the -results of his experiments just at the close of the eighteenth -century. Benjamin Thompson, generally known -as Count Rumford, was born in the town of Woburn, Massachusetts, -in 1753. His inclination towards physical experimentation -was strong in his early youth, and he received -much instruction and inspiration from the lectures -of Professor John Winthrop, of Harvard College, some -of which he was enabled to attend under trying conditions. -Having received special official consideration -by appointment to office under one of the colonial governors, -he was accused at the breaking out of the Revolutionary -War of a leaning towards Toryism, and was -thus prevented from making his career among his own -people. At the age of twenty-two years he fled to England, -returning to America only for a brief period in -command of a British regiment. In England he soon -became eminent as an experimental philosopher, and in -1778 became a Fellow of the Royal Society. He afterwards -entered the service of the Elector of Bavaria, by -whom he was made a Count of the Holy Roman Empire. -In 1799 he returned to London and founded the “Royal -Institution,” which was destined during the next hundred -years to surpass all other foundations in the richness -and importance of its contributions to physical science.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_306">306</a></span> -It was while at Munich that Rumford made his -famous experiments on the nature of heat, to which he -had been led by observing the great amount of heat generated -in the boring of cannon. Finding that he was -able to make a considerable quantity of water actually -boil by the heat generated by a blunt boring tool, he -concluded that the supply of heat from such a source -was practically inexhaustible and that it could be generated -continuously if only the motion of the tool under -friction was kept up. He declared that anything which -could thus be produced without limitation by an insulated -body or system of bodies could not possibly be a -material substance, and that under the circumstances of -the experiment, the only thing that was or could be thus -continuously communicated was <em>motion</em>.</p> - -<p>Count Rumford’s conclusions were not for a long time -accepted. Davy, the brilliant professor and eloquent -lecturer at the newly established Royal Institution, espoused -the mechanical theory of heat and made the striking -experiment of melting two pieces of ice by rubbing -them together remote from any source of heat. His -contemporary, Thomas Young, who overturned Newton’s -corpuscular theory of light and showed that it was -a wave phenomenon, also advocated Rumford’s notion -of the nature of heat, but even among physicists of high -rank it had made little headway as late as the middle -of the nineteenth century. In the eighth edition of the -Encyclopædia Britannica, published in 1856, the immediate -predecessor of the current issue, heat is defined -as “a material agent of a peculiar nature, highly attenuated.” -And this, in spite of the fact that previous -to that date the mechanical theory had been completely -proved by the labors of Mayer, Joule, Helmholtz, and -William Thomson (Lord Kelvin). By these men a solid -foundation for the theory had been found in a great physical -law of such importance that it is justly considered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_307">307</a></span> -to be the most far-reaching generalization in natural -philosophy since the time of Newton. Some account of -this law and its discovery will be given later in this paper.</p> - -<p>Among the most important of the century’s contributions -to our knowledge of heat must be included the -work of Fourier, as embodied in his <cite>Theorie Analytique -de la Chaleur</cite>, published in 1822. Joseph Fourier was -born in 1768, and died in 1830. He belonged to that -splendid group of philosophers of which the French -nation may always be proud, whose work constitutes -a large part of the lustre of intellectual France during -her most brilliant period, the later years of the eighteenth -and the earlier years of the nineteenth century. -His contemporaries included such men as Laplace, Arago, -Lagrange, Fresnel, and Carnot. Fourier wrote especially -of the movement of heat in solids, and as his thesis -depended in no way on the nature of heat it will always -be regarded as a classic. His assumption that conductivity -was independent of temperature was shortly proved -to be erroneous, but his general argument and conclusions -were not greatly affected by this discovery. His -work is one of the most beautiful examples yet produced -of the application of mathematics to physical research, -and mathematical and physical science were equally enriched -by it. In its broader aspects his law of conduction -includes the transfer of electricity in good conductors, -and is the real basis of Ohm’s law.</p> - -<p>One of the most skillful and successful experimenters -in heat was also a Frenchman, Henri Victor Regnault -(1810–78). He greatly improved the construction and -use of the thermometer, and was the first to discover that -the indications of an air thermometer and one of mercury -did not exactly agree, because they did not expand -in the same degree for equal increases of temperature. -His most important work was on the expansion of gases, -vapor pressure, specific heat of water, etc., and for careful,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_308">308</a></span> -patient measuring he had a positive genius. Until -he proved the contrary it had been assumed that all gases -had the same coefficient of expansion, and Boyle’s law -that the volume of a gas was inversely proportional to -its pressure had not been questioned. His tables of the -elastic force of steam have been of immense practical -value, but his studies of the expansion of gases are of -greater interest because they have pointed the way to -one of the most important accomplishments of the century, -the liquefaction of all known gases.</p> - -<p>During the earlier years of this century it was the -custom to consider vapors and gases as quite distinct -forms of matter. Vapors always came, by evaporation, -from liquids, and could always be “condensed” or reduced -to the liquid form without difficulty, but it was -not thought possible to liquefy the so-called “permanent” -gases. The first man to attack the problem systematically -was Michael Faraday, who, before the end of the -first third of the century, had liquefied several gases, -mostly by producing them by chemical reactions under -pressure. Several of the more easily reducible gases or -vapors, such as ammonia, sulphurous acid, and probably -chlorine, had been previously liquefied by cold, -but a quarter of a century elapsed after Faraday’s researches -before the true relation of the liquid and gaseous -states of matter was understood, and it was found that -both increase of pressure and lowering of temperature -were, in general, essential to the liquefaction of a gas. -It was Thomas Andrews, of Belfast, who first showed, in -a paper published in 1863, that there was a continuity -in the liquid and gaseous states of matter, that for each -substance there was a critical temperature at which -it became a homogeneous fluid, neither a liquid nor a -gas: that above this temperature great pressure would -not liquefy, while below it the substance might exist as -partly liquid and partly gas. He pointed out the fact<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_309">309</a></span> -that for the so-called permanent gases this critical temperature -must be exceedingly low, and if such temperature -could be reached liquefaction would follow.</p> - -<p>Subsequent progress in the liquefaction of gases came -about by following this suggestion. Very low temperatures -were produced by subjecting the gas to great -reduction in volume by pressure, removing the heat of -compression by conduction and radiation, and then by -sudden expansion its temperature was greatly lowered. -As early as 1877 two Frenchmen, Pictet and Cailletet, -had succeeded in liquefying oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, -and air. During the past twenty years great improvements -have been made in the methods of accomplishing -these transformations, so that to-day it is easy to produce -considerable quantities of all of the principal gases -in a liquid form, and by carrying the reduction in temperature -still further portions of the liquid may be changed -to the solid state. The most important work along -this line has been done by Wroblewski and Olszewski, -of the University of Cracow, and Professor Dewar, of -the Royal Institution in London. Temperatures as low -as about two hundred and fifty degrees C. below the -freezing-point of water have been produced, the “absolute -zero” being only two hundred and seventy-three -degrees C. below that point. These experiments promise -to throw much light on the nature of matter, and -they are especially interesting as revealing its extraordinary -properties at extremely low temperatures. Among -the most curious and suggestive is the fact that the electrical -resistance of pure metals diminishes at a rate which -indicates that at the absolute zero it would vanish, and -these metals would become perfect conductors of electricity.</p> - -<p>The dynamics of heat, or “thermo-dynamics,” was an -important field of research in the early part of the century, -on account of its practical application to the improvement<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_310">310</a></span> -of the steam-engine. The science was created -by Carnot, who, in spite of the fact that his views regarding -the nature of heat were erroneous, discovered some -of the most interesting relations among the quantities -involved, and discussed their applications to the heat -engines with great skill. Subsequent contributors to the -theory and practice of thermo-dynamics were Clausius, -Rankine, Lord Kelvin, and Professor Tait.</p> - -<p>The mechanical theory of heat naturally led up to -what has already been referred to as the most important -generalization in physical science since the time of -Newton, the doctrine of</p> - -<h3>THE CONSERVATION OF ENERGY</h3> - -<p>This principle puts physics in its relation to energy -where chemistry has long been in its relation to matter. -If matter were not conservative, if it could be created or -destroyed at will, chemistry would be an impossible -science. Physics is put upon a solid foundation by the -assumption of a like conservatism in energy; it can -neither be created nor destroyed, although it may appear -in many different forms which are, in general, mutually -interconvertible.</p> - -<p>Many men have contributed to the establishment of -this great principle, but it was actually discovered and -proved by the labors of three or four. Although it was -practically all done before the middle of the nineteenth -century, its general popular recognition did not come -until a quarter of a century later. The doctrine was -first distinctly formulated by Robert Mayer, a German -physician, who published in 1842 a suggestive paper on -“The Forces of Inorganic Nature,” which, however, -attracted little or no attention. Mayer had not approached -the problem from an experimental stand-point, -but at about the same time it was attacked most successfully<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_311">311</a></span> -from this side by a young Englishman, James -Prescott Joule, son of a wealthy brewer of Manchester, -England. Joule made the first really accurate determination -of the mechanical equivalent of a given quantity -of heat, a physical constant which Rumford had -tried to measure, reaching only a rough approximation. -Substantially Joule’s result was that the heat energy -necessary to raise the temperature of any given mass of -water one degree Fahr. is the equivalent of the mechanical -energy required to lift that mass through a height of -seven hundred and seventy-two feet against the force -of the earth’s attraction; and, conversely, if a mass of -water be allowed to fall through a distance of seven -hundred and seventy-two feet under the action of gravity, -and at the end of its motion be instantly arrested, the heat -generated will suffice to raise its temperature one degree -Fahr. Of such vast importance is this numerical coefficient -that it has been called the golden number of the nineteenth -century. Since Joule’s time it has been redetermined -by several physicists, notably by Professor Rowland, -of Baltimore, the general conclusion being that -Joule’s number was somewhat, but not greatly, too small.</p> - -<p>The first clear and full exposition of the doctrine of -the conservation of energy was given by Joule in a -popular lecture in Manchester in 1847, but it attracted -little attention until a few months later, when the author -presented his theory at a meeting of the British Association -for the Advancement of Science. Even among -scientific men it would have passed without comment or -consideration had it not been for the presence of another -young Englishman, then as little known as Joule himself, -who began a series of remarks, appreciative and -critical, which resulted in making Joule’s paper the sensation -of the meeting. This was William Thomson, -who had been, only a year before, at the age of twenty-two -years, appointed professor of natural philosophy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_312">312</a></span> -at the University of Glasgow, now known as Lord Kelvin, -the most versatile, brilliant, and profound student of -physical science which the century has produced. From -that day to the death of Joule (1889) these two men were -closely associated in the demonstration and exploitation -of a great principle of which they were at first almost -the sole exponents among English-speaking people.</p> - -<p>By an interesting coincidence, in the same year in -which Joule announced the result of his experiments, -the Physical Society of Berlin listened to a paper almost -identical with Joule’s in character and conclusions, -but prepared quite independently, by a young German -physician, Herman von Helmholtz, destined to rank -at the time of his death, in 1893, as one of the very first -mathematicians of the age, doubtless the first physiologist -of his time, and as a physicist with whom not -more than one other of the nineteenth century may be -compared. Helmholtz’s paper was rejected by the editor -of the leading scientific journal of Germany, but -his work was so important that he must always share -with Joule and Kelvin in the glory of this epoch-making -generalization.</p> - -<p>Even a brief sketch of the history of the doctrine of -the conservation of energy would be incomplete if mention -were not made of the work of Tyndall. Although -by original research he contributed in no small degree -to the demonstration of the theory, it is mainly through -his wonderful skill in popular presentation of the principles -of physical science that he becomes related to the -great movement of the middle of the century. His -masterful exposition of the new theory in a course of -lectures at the Royal Institution, given in 1862 and -published in 1863 under the title <cite>Heat as a Mode of -Motion</cite>, was the means of making the intelligent public -acquainted with its beauty and profound significance, -and the history of science affords no more admirable<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_313">313</a></span> -example of the possibilities and wisdom of popular -scientific writing than this book. As for the principle -of the conservation of energy itself it is not too much -to say that during the last half of the century it has been -the guiding and controlling spirit of all scientific discovery -or of invention through the application of scientific -principles.</p> - -<h3>LIGHT</h3> - -<p>The revival and final establishment of the undulatory -or wave theory of light is one of the glories of the nineteenth -century, and the credit for it is due to Thomas -Young, an Englishman, and Fresnel, a Frenchman. -Newton had conceived, espoused, and, owing to the great -authority of his name, almost fixed upon the learned -world the corpuscular or emission theory, which assumes -that all luminous bodies emit streams of minute corpuscles, -which are reflected, refracted, and produce vision. -Many ordinary optical phenomena were explained by -this hypothesis only with great difficulty, and some were -quite unexplainable. The transmission of a disturbance -or vibratory motion by means of waves, as in the case -of sound, was a well-recognized principle, and Young -and Fresnel applied it most successfully to the phenomena -of light. Wave motion, in a general way, is only -possible in a sensibly continuous medium, such as water, -air, etc., and the theory that light was a vibratory disturbance -transmitted by means of waves necessitated the -assumption of the existence of such a medium throughout -all space in which light travelled. What is known -as the ethereal medium, at first a purely imaginary -substance, but whose real existence is practically established, -satisfies this demand, and the hypothesis that -light is transmitted by waves in such a medium, originating -in a vibratory disturbance at the source, has -been of inestimable value to physical science.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_314">314</a></span> -The work of Thomas Young was done in the very -first years of the nineteenth century. He was for two -years professor of Natural Philosophy in the Royal -Institution just founded by Count Rumford, and he was -the first to fill that chair. In 1801, in a paper presented -to the Royal Society, he argued in favor of the undulatory -theory, showing how the interference of waves -would explain the color of thin plates. His papers -were not, for several years, received favorably, and they -were severely criticised by Lord Brougham. Augustus -Fresnel followed Young, but quite independently, about -ten years later, and by him the undulatory theory received -elaborate experimental and mathematical treatment.</p> - -<p>In the mean time another Frenchman had made a -capital discovery in optics, which seemed at first to be -quite incompatible with the wave theory. This was the -discovery of what is known as <em>polarization of light</em> by -Malus, a French engineer, who hit upon it while investigating -double refraction of crystals, for a study of which -the French Institute had offered a prize in 1808. Malus -found that when light fell upon a surface of glass at a -certain angle a portion of the reflected light appeared to -have acquired entirely new properties in regard to further -reflection, and the same was true of that part of the -beam which was transmitted through the glass. The -light thus affected was incapable of further reflection -under certain conditions, and as the beam seemed to behave -differently according to how it was presented to -the reflecting surface, the term polarization was applied -to the phenomenon. It was found that the two rays -into which a single beam of light was split by a doubly -refracting crystal (a phenomenon which had long been -known) were affected in this way, and that light was polarized -by refraction as well as by reflection. Malus -was a believer in the corpuscular theory of light, but it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_315">315</a></span> -was shortly proved, first by Thomas Young, that the -phenomenon of polarization was not only not opposed -to the wave theory, but that that theory furnished a rational -explanation of it. This explanation, in brief, -assumes that ordinary light is a wave produced by a -vibratory motion confined to no particular plane, the -direction of vibration being at right angles to the direction -of the wave, and in any, or, in rapid succession, -in <em>all</em> azimuths. When light is polarized the vibratory -motion in the ether is restricted to one particular form, -a line if plane polarized, a circle or an ellipse if circularly -or elliptically polarized. This simple hypothesis -has been found quite adequate, and through its application -to the various phenomena of polarization, together -with the application of Young’s theory of the -interference of waves to the production of color, the undulatory -theory of light was firmly established before -the middle of the century. There were many noted -philosophers, however, who stood out long against it, -notably Brewster, the most famous English student of -optics of the early part of the century, who declared that -his “chief objection to the undulatory theory was that -he could not think the Creator guilty of so clumsy a -contrivance as the filling of space with ether in order to -produce light.” In studying the nature of light it became -very important to know how fast a light wave travelled. -A tolerably good measure of the velocity of light -had been made long before by means of the eclipses of -Jupiter’s moons and by observations upon the positions -of the stars as influenced by the motion of the earth in -its orbit. It was found to be approximately one hundred -and eighty thousand miles per second, a speed so great -that it seemed impossible that it should ever be measured -by using only terrestrial distances.</p> - -<p>This extremely difficult problem has been solved, -however, in a most satisfactory manner by nineteenth-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_316">316</a></span>century -physicists. Everybody knows that in a uniform -motion velocity is equal to space or distance divided by -time. If, then, the time occupied in passing through a -given distance can be measured, the velocity is at once -known. As the velocity of light is very large, unless -the distance is enormously great, the time will be extremely -small, and if moderate distances are to be used -the problem is to measure very small intervals of time -very accurately. Light will travel one mile in about -the one hundred and eighty-sixth thousandth part of a -second, and if by using a mile as the distance the velocity -of light is to be determined within one per cent., it is -necessary to be able to detect differences of time as small -as about one twenty-millionth of a second. This has -been made possible by the use of two distinct methods. -Foucault, on the suggestion of Arago, used a rapidly -revolving mirror, a method introduced by Wheatstone, -the English electrician, who used it in finding the duration -of an electric spark. The essential principle is that -a mirror may be made to revolve so rapidly that it will -change its position by a measurable angle, while light -which has been reflected from it passes to a somewhat -distant fixed mirror and returns to the moving reflector. -In the other method a toothed wheel is revolved so rapidly -that a beam of light passing between two consecutive -teeth to a distant fixed mirror is cut off on its return -to the wheel by the tooth, which has moved forward -while the light has made its journey. This method was -first used by Fizeau. In either method, if the speed of -rotation is known, the time is readily found. In point -of time, Fizeau was the first to attack the problem, which -he did about 1849. Foucault was perhaps a year later -in getting results, but his method is generally considered -the best. Both methods have been used by other -experimenters, and very important improvements in -Foucault’s method were made in the United States by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_317">317</a></span> -Michelson about 1878. Michelson’s method increased -enormously the precision of the measurements, and it -has been applied by him and by Newcomb, not only for -the better determination of the velocity of light in air, but -for the solution of many other related problems of first -importance. Michelson’s final determination of the absolute -velocity of light (in the ether) is everywhere accepted -as authoritative.</p> - -<p>Another discovery in optics entirely accomplished -during the nineteenth century and of the very first importance -is generally known as “Spectrum Analysis.” -This discovery has not yet ceased to excite admiration -and even amazement, and especially among those who -best understand it. By its use hitherto unknown substances -have become known; to the physicist it is an -instrument of research of the greatest power, and perhaps -more than anything else it promises to throw light -on the ultimate nature of matter; to the astronomer it -has revealed the composition, physical condition, and -even the motions of the most distant heavenly bodies, -all of which the philosophy of a hundred years ago would -have pronounced absolutely impossible.</p> - -<p>The beginning of spectrum analysis was in 1802, -when an Englishman, Dr. Wollaston, observed dark -lines interrupting the solar spectrum when produced by -a good prism upon which the sunlight fell after passing -through a narrow slit. About ten years later, Fraunhofer, -at Munich, a skilful worker in glass and a keen -observer, discovered in the spectrum of light from a -lamp two yellow bands, now known as the sodium, or -“D” lines. Combining the three essential elements of -the modern spectroscope, the slit, the prism, and the -observing telescope, he saw in the spectrum of sunlight -“an almost countless number of dark lines.” He was -the first to use a grating for the production of the spectrum, -using at first fine wire gratings and afterwards<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_318">318</a></span> -ruling fine lines upon glass, and with these he made -the first accurate measures of the length of light waves. -He did not, however, comprehend the full import of the -problem which he thus brought to the attention of physicists. -About twenty years later Sir John Herschell -studied the bright line spectra of different substances -and found that they might be used to detect the presence -of minute quantities of a substance whose spectrum was -known. Wheatstone studied the spectrum of the electric -arc passing between metals, and in 1874 Dr. J. W. -Draper published a very important paper on the spectra -of solids with increasing temperature. Although quite -in the dark as to the real nature of the phenomena with -which they were dealing, these observers paved the way -for the splendid work of the two Germans, Kirchoff and -Bunsen, who, about 1860, found the key to this wonderful -problem and made the science of spectrum analysis -substantially what it is to-day. Its fundamental principles -may be considered as few and comparatively -simple.</p> - -<p>Waves of light and radiant heat originate in ether -disturbances produced by molecular vibration, and have -impressed upon them all of the important qualities of -that vibration. Molecules of different substances differ -in their modes of vibration, each producing a wave peculiar -to and characteristic of itself. A useful analogy -may be found in the fact that when one listens to the -music of an orchestra without seeing it it is easy to recognize -the tones that come from each of the several instruments, -the characteristic vibrations of each being impressed -upon the waves in air which carry the sound to -the ear. So delicate and so sure is this impression of -vibration peculiarities that it is even possible to know -the maker of a violin, for instance, by a characteristic -<em>timbre</em> which must have its physical expression in the -sound wave. The ear, more perfect than the eye, analyzes<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_319">319</a></span> -the resultant disturbance into its component parts -so that each element may be attributed to its proper -source. Unaided, the eye cannot do this with light, -but the spectroscope separates the various modes of vibration -which make up the confused whole, so that varieties -of molecular activity are recognizable. The speed -at which a source of sound is approaching or receding -from the ear can be ascertained by noting the rise or -fall in pitch due to the crowding together or stretching -out of the sound waves, and in the same way the motion -of a luminous body is known from the increase or decrease -of the refrangibility of the elements of its spectrum.</p> - -<p>Indeed, had nineteenth-century science accomplished -nothing else than the discovery of spectrum analysis, -it would have marked the beginning of a new epoch. -By this device man is put in communication with every -considerable body in the universe, including even the -invisible. The “goings on” of Sirius and Algol, of -Orion and the Pleiads are reported to him across enormous -stretches of millions of millions of miles of space, -empty save of the ethereal medium itself, by this most -wonderful “wireless telegraphy.” And it is by the vibratory -motion of the invisibly small that all of this is -revealed; the infinitely little has enabled us to conquer -the inconceivably big.</p> - -<p>Many important contributions to the theory and practice -of spectrum analysis have been made since the time -of Kirchoff and Bunsen, only two or three of which can -be referred to here. Instrumental methods by which -spectra are produced and examined have been greatly -perfected, and this is especially true of what is known -as the “diffraction grating” first used by Fraunhofer. -A quarter of a century ago Rutherford, of New York, -constructed a ruling engine by means of which gratings -on glass and spectrum metal were ruled with a precision<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_320">320</a></span> -greatly exceeding what had before been possible. A -few years later Rowland, of Baltimore, made a notable -advance in the construction of a screw far more perfect -than any before made, producing gratings of a fineness -and regularity of spacing far ahead of any others, and -especially by the capital discovery of the concave grating, -by means of which the most beautiful results have been -obtained. Very recently Michelson, of Chicago, has invented -the echelon spectroscope, which, although greatly -restricted in range, exceeds all others in power of analysis -of spectral lines. In his hands this instrument has been -most effective in the study of the influence of a strong -magnetic field upon the character of the spectrum from -light produced therein, a most interesting phenomenon -first observed by Zeeman and one which promises to -reveal much concerning the relation of molecular activity -to light and to magnetic force.</p> - -<p>The development of spectrum analysis was necessarily -accompanied by a recognition of the identity of radiant -heat and light. The study of radiant heat, which was -carried on during the earlier years of the century by -Leslie, and later by Melloni and Tyndall, by what might -be called thermal methods, has been industriously pursued -during the last two decades by processes similar -to those adopted for visual radiation. The most notable -contribution to this work is the invention of the <em>bolometer</em>, -by Langley, who, at Allegheny, and later at Washington, -has made exhaustive studies of solar radiation -in invisible regions of the spectrum, especially among -the waves of greater length than those of red light, where -he has found absorption lines and bands similar in character -to those observed in the visible spectrum. He has -also studied the absorption of the earth’s atmosphere, -the relation of energy to visual effect, and many other -interesting problems, the solution of which was made -possible by the use of the bolometer.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_321">321</a></span> -Mention must also be made of the invention by Michelson -of an interference comparator, by means of which -linear measurements by optical methods can be accomplished -with a degree of accuracy hitherto unheard -of. With this instrument Michelson has determined the -length of the international prototype metre in terms of -the wave length of the light of a particular spectral -line, thus furnishing for the first time a satisfactory -<em>natural</em> unit of length.</p> - -<p>By far the most important contribution to the theory -of light made during the last half of the century is that -of Maxwell, who, in 1873, announced the proposition -that electro-magnetic phenomena and light phenomena -have their origin in the same medium, and that they are -identical in nature. This far-reaching conclusion has -been generally accepted and formed the basis of much -of the most important work in physical research in process -of elaboration as the century closed. To some of this -reference will presently be made.</p> - -<h3>ELECTRICITY AND MAGNETISM</h3> - -<p>In no other department of physical science have such -remarkable developments occurred during the past century -as in electricity and magnetism, for in no other -department have the practical applications of scientific -discovery been so numerous and so far reaching in their -effect upon social conditions. In a brief review of the -contributions of the nineteenth century to the evolution -of the telegraph, telephone, trolley-car, electric lighting, -and other means of utilizing electricity, it will be possible -to consider only a very few of the fundamental discoveries -upon which the enormous and rather complex superstructure -of to-day rests. Happily these are few in -number, and their presentation is all the more important -because of the fact that in the popular mind they are<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_322">322</a></span> -not accorded that significance to which they are entitled, -if, indeed, they are remembered at all.</p> - -<p>The first great step in advance of the electricity of -Franklin and his contemporaries (and his predecessors -for two thousand years) was taken very near the end of -the eighteenth century, but it must be regarded as the beginning -of nineteenth-century electricity. Two Italian -philosophers, Galvani and Volta, contributed to the -invention of what is known as the galvanic or voltaic -battery, the output of which was not at first distinctly -recognized as the electricity of the older schools. By -this beautiful discovery electricity was for the first time -enslaved to man, who was now able to generate and -control it at times and in such quantities as he desired. -Although the voltaic battery is now nearly obsolete -as a source of electricity, its invention must always be -regarded as one of the three epoch-making events in the -history of the science during the past one hundred and -twenty years. For three-quarters of a century it was -practically the only source of electricity, and during this -time and by its use nearly all of the most important discoveries -were made. Even in the first decade of the -century many brilliant results were reached. Among -the most notable were the researches of Sir Humphry -Davy, who, by the use of the most powerful battery then -constructed, resolved the hitherto unyielding alkalies, -discovering sodium and potassium, and at the same -time exhibited in his lectures in the Royal Institution in -London the first electric arc light, the ancestor of the -millions that now turn night into day.</p> - -<p>The cost of generating electricity by means of a voltaic -battery is relatively very great, and this fact stood in -the way of the early development of its applications, -although their feasibility was perfectly well understood. -Without any other important invention or discovery -than that of the voltaic battery much would have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_323">323</a></span> -been possible, including both electric lighting and the -electric telegraph. Indeed, electric telegraphy had long -been a <em>possibility</em>, even before the time of Galvani and -Volta, but its actual construction and use was almost -necessarily postponed until a second capital discovery -came to remove most of the difficulties.</p> - -<p>This was the discovery of a relation between electricity -and magnetism, the existence of which had long been -suspected and earnestly sought. A Danish professor, -Hans Christian Oersted, was fortunate in hitting upon -an experiment which demonstrated this relation and -opened up an entirely new field of investigation and -invention. What Oersted found was that when a conductor, -as a copper wire, carrying an electric current, -was brought near a freely suspended magnet, like a -compass needle, the latter would take up a definite position -with reference to the current. Thus an electric -current moved a magnet, acted like a magnet in producing -a “magnetic field.” The subject was quickly -taken up by almost every physicist in Europe and America. -Arago found that iron filings would cling to a wire -through which a current was passing, and he was able -to magnetize steel needles by means of the current. -Ampère, another French physicist, studied Oersted’s -wonderful discovery both experimentally and mathematically, -and in an incredibly short time so developed it -as to deserve the title of creator of the science of electro-dynamics.</p> - -<p>The first to make what is known as an electro-magnet -was an Englishman named Sturgeon, who used a bar -of soft iron bent in a horseshoe form (as had long been -common in making permanent steel magnets), and, -after varnishing the iron for insulation, a single coil of -copper wire was wrapped about it, through which the -current from a battery was passed. There were thus -two ways of producing visible motion by means of an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_324">324</a></span> -electric current: that of Oersted’s simple experiment, in -which a suspended magnetic needle was deflected by a -current, and that made possible by the production, at -will, of an electro-magnet. The application of both of -these ideas to the construction of an electric telegraph -was quickly attempted, and two different systems of -telegraphy grew out of them. One, depending on Oersted’s -experiment, was developed in England first and -afterwards in Europe; the other, that involving the use -of signals produced by an electric magnet, was developed -in America, and was generally known as the American -method. It has long ago superseded the first method -in actual practice. Its possibility depended on perfecting -the electro-magnet and especially on an understanding -of the principles on which that perfecting depended. -For the complete and satisfactory solution of -this problem we are indebted to the most famous student -of electricity America has produced during the century, -Joseph Henry. In 1829, while a teacher in the academy -at Albany, New York, Henry exhibited an electro-magnet -of enormously greater power than any before made, -involving all of the essential features of the magnet of -to-day. The wire was insulated by silk wrapping, and -many coils were placed upon the iron core, the intensity -of magnetization being thus multiplied. Henry studied, -also, the best form and arrangement of the battery under -varying conditions of the conductor. An electro-magnetic -telegraph had been declared impossible in 1825, -by Barlow, an Englishman, who pointed out the apparently -fatal fact that the resistance offered to the -current was proportional to the length of the conducting -wire and that the strength of the current would be thus -so much reduced for even short distances as to become -too feeble to be detected. Henry showed that what is -known as an “intensity battery” would overcome this -difficulty, discovering experimentally and independently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_325">325</a></span> -the beautifully simple law showing the relation of current -to electro-motive force which Ohm had announced in -1827. He also invented the principle of the relay, by -which the action of a very feeble current controls the -operation of a more powerful local system. It will thus -be seen that the essential features of the so-called American -system of telegraphy are to be credited to Henry, -who had a working line in his laboratory as early as -1832.</p> - -<p>Morse made use of the scientific discoveries and inventions -of Henry, and by his indefatigable labors and -persistent faith the commercial value of the enterprise -was really established. In the mean time considerable -progress was made in Europe. Baron Schilling, a -Russian Councillor of State, devised and exhibited a -needle telegraph. The two illustrious German physicists, -Gauss and Weber, established a successfully working -line two or three miles long in 1833, and this system -was commercially developed by Steinheil in 1837. In -England, Sir Charles Wheatstone made many important -contributions, although using the needle system, -which was afterwards abandoned. Before the middle of -the century the commercial success of the electro-magnetic -telegraph was assured, and in the matter of the -transmission of messages distance was practically annihilated.</p> - -<p>Oersted, Arago, Ampère, Sturgeon, and Henry had -made it possible to convert electricity into mechanical -energy. Motors of various types had been invented, -and the possibility of using the new source of power for -running machinery, cars, boats, etc., was fully recognized. -Several attempts had been made to do these -things, but the great cost of producing the current by -means of a battery stood in the way of success. Another -epoch-making discovery was necessary, namely, a method -of reversing the process and converting mechanical<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_326">326</a></span> -energy into electricity. This was supplied by the genius -of Michael Faraday, who had succeeded Davy in -the Royal Institution at London. In 1831 Faraday discovered -<em>induction</em>, the key to the modern development -of electricity. He showed that while Oersted had proved -that a current of electricity would generate a magnetic -field and set a magnet in motion, this process was reversible. -A magnet set in motion in a magnetic field -by a steam-engine or any other source of power would -produce, in a conductor properly arranged, a current of -electricity, and thus the dynamo came into existence. -In this brilliant investigation he was almost anticipated -by Henry, who was working at Albany along the same -lines, but under much less favorable conditions. Indeed, -in several of the most important points, the American -actually did anticipate the Englishman. Nearly -half a century elapsed before this most important discovery -was sufficiently developed to become commercially -valuable, and it is impossible in this place to trace the -steps by which, during the last quarter of a century, -the production and utilization of electricity as existing -to-day was accomplished, as a result of which the century -closed, as one might say, in a blaze of light; and -it is unnecessary, because most people have witnessed -the spread of the fire which Faraday and Henry kindled.</p> - -<p>Faraday’s discovery of induction furnished the basis of -that marvellous improvement upon the telegraph by -which actual speech is transmitted over hundreds and -even thousands of miles. In connection with the invention -of the telephone the names of Philip Reiss, Graham -Bell, Elisha Gray, and Dolbear will always be -mentioned, each of whom, doubtless independently, hit -upon a way of accomplishing the result with more or less -success. To Bell, however, belongs the honor of having -first practically solved the problem and of devising a -system which, with numerous modifications and improvements,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_327">327</a></span> -has come into extensive use in all parts of -the world. No other application of electricity has come -into such universal use, and none has contributed more -to the comfort of life.</p> - -<p>While it is doubtless true that since Faraday’s time -no discovery comparable with his in real importance -has been made, the past twenty-five years have not lacked -in results of scientific research, some of which may, in the -not distant future, eclipse even that in the value of their -practical applications. Among these must be ranked -Clerk Maxwell’s theory of electric waves and its beautiful -verification in 1888 by the young German physicist, -Hertz. This brilliant student of electricity succeeded -in actually producing, detecting, and controlling these -waves, and out of this discovery has come the “wireless -telegraphy” which has been so rapidly developed within -the last few years. Many other discoveries in electricity -of great scientific interest and practical promise have -been recorded in the closing years of the century, but -the necessary limits of this article forbid their consideration.</p> - -<p>No account of the progress of physical science during -the nineteenth century would be even approximately -complete without mention of other investigations of profound -significance. For instance, the study of the phenomena -of sound has yielded results of great scientific -and some practical value. The application of the theory -of interference by Thomas Young; the publication -of Helmholtz’s great work, the <cite>Tonempfindungen</cite>, in -which his theory of harmony was first fully presented; -the publication of Lord Rayleigh’s treatise; the invention -and construction by König of acoustic apparatus, the -best example yet furnished of scientific handicraft; all -of these mark important advances, not only in acoustics -but in general physics as well. The phonautograph of -Scott and König, by which a graphic record of the vibrations<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_328">328</a></span> -of the vocal chords was made possible, was -ingeniously converted by Edison into a speech recording -and reproducing machine, the phonograph, by which -the most marvellous results are accomplished in the simplest -possible manner.</p> - -<p>The century is also to be credited with the discovery -and development of the art of photography, which, although -not of the first importance, has contributed much -to the pleasure of life, and as an aid to scientific investigation -has become quite indispensable.</p> - -<p>The wonderfully beautiful experiments of Sir William -Crookes, on the passage of an electric discharge through -a high vacuum, and other phenomena connected with -what has been called “radiant matter,” begun about a -quarter of a century ago and continued by him and -others up to the present time, laid the foundation for the -brilliant work of Röntgen in the discovery and study -of the so-called “X”-rays, the real nature of which is -not yet understood. Their further investigation by -J. J. Thomson, Becquerel, and others, seems to have -revealed new forms and phases of radiation, a fuller -knowledge of which is likely to throw much light on obscure -problems relating to the nature of matter.</p> - -<p>Concerning the “Nature of Matter,” the ablest physicists -of the century have thought and written much, and -doubtless our present knowledge of the subject is much -more nearly the truth than that of a hundred years ago. -The molecular theory of gases has met with such complete -experimental verification, and is so in accord with -all observed phenomena, that it must be accepted as essentially -correct. As to the ultimate nature of what -is called matter, as distinguished from the ethereal medium, -what is known as the “vortex theory of atoms” -has received the most consideration. This theory was -developed by Lord Kelvin out of Helmholtz’s mathematical -demonstration of the indestructibility of a vortex<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_329">329</a></span> -ring when once formed in a medium possessing the -properties which are generally attributed to the ether.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the most remarkable as well as the most promising -fact relating to physical science at the close of the -nineteenth century is the great and rapidly increasing -number of well-organized and splendidly equipped laboratories -in which original research is systematically -planned and carried out. When one reflects that for -the most part during the century just ended the advance -of science was more or less of the nature of a guerrilla -warfare against ignorance, it seems safe to predict -for that just beginning victories more glorious than any -yet won.</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">T. C. Mendenhall.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_333">333</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="WAR"></a>WAR</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">It</span> is doubtful how far, even if as civilians we get over -our natural dislike of talking of military change as -“progress,” there has been any considerable advance in -the larger aspects of military science within the century. -The genius of Bonaparte, working upon the foundations -laid by Frederick the Great, established a century ago -principles which are essentially applicable to the military -matters of the present day; and although the scientific -developments of artillery and musketry have affected the -dispositions of battle-fields, the essential principles of the -art of preparation for war and of strategy stand where -they stood before.</p> - -<p>Scharnhorst was the Prussian officer who began to -reduce the Napoleonic military system to rules applicable -to the use of German armies. Under Bonaparte the -whole management of the army was too often concentrated -in the hands of the man of genius, and the actual -method of Napoleon had the defect that, failing the man -of genius at the head of the army, it broke down. The -main change made by the Germans, who followed Scharnhorst, -in the course of the century has been to codify -the Napoleonic system so that it was possible to more -generally decentralize in practice without impairing its -essence. They have also established a division of its -supply department (under a Minister of War) from the -“brain of the army,” as Mr. Spenser Wilkinson has well -called it, which manages the preparation for the strategy -of war and the strategy itself. These so-called Prussian<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_334">334</a></span> -principles of decentralization and “initiative” are, however, -not new and not Prussian, and may be discovered -in the conversations of Napoleon Bonaparte. The -French in 1870 had forgotten his teaching, and the Germans -had retained it. It is, nevertheless, the case that -the number of men placed in the field by the military -powers having increased, the intelligent initiative of -corps commanders and even of generals commanding -divisions has become the more essential. It is impossible -that the great general staff can give orders in advance -which will cover the responsibility of all the inferior -generals, and brains have to be added in all ranks -to obedience. The commander-in-chief in the field cannot -with advantage drown himself in details, and he can -only provide in his orders an outline sketch which his -subordinates in various parts of the field of operations -have to fill in. The “initiative of subordinates” is but -the natural division of labor.</p> - -<p>If I, a civilian student of military politics, rather than -a military expert, have been called upon to write upon -the military progress of the century, it must be because -of a desire to bring largely into the account the changes -in military organization which on the continent of Europe -have made it permanently national, and which in -the United States made it temporarily national during -the Civil War, and would make it so again in the event -of any fresh struggle on a great scale in which the -North American continent might become involved.</p> - -<p>Although the “armed nation” has replaced in France, -Germany, Switzerland, Austria-Hungary, Italy, Roumania, -and Bulgaria the smaller professional armies -of the eighteenth century, the popular belief that the numerical -strength of field armies has enormously increased -is not so completely well founded as at first sight might -be supposed. It is true that each nation can put into -the entire field of warfare larger numbers than that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_335">335</a></span> -nation could put into the field a century ago. But it is -still not beyond the bounds of possibility that in certain -cases small armies may produce results as remarkable -as those which attended British operations in the Peninsula -in the early part of the nineteenth century, and, -on the other hand, although there will, upon the whole, -in future continental wars, be larger armies in the field, -no one general is likely personally to handle or to -place upon a field of battle a larger army than that with -which Napoleon traversed Europe before he invaded -Russia.</p> - -<p>The principles of pure military science as set forth in -books have not been greatly changed during the nineteenth -century. The Prussian Clausewitz only explained -for us the doctrines of Bonaparte; and the latest -writers—such as the Frenchmen Derrécagaix and Lewal—only -continue Clausewitz. The theory of the -armed nation has received extension, but, after all, the -Prussian system in its essentials dates from Jena, -and the steps by which it has produced the admirable -existing armies of France, Austria, and Roumania have -been but slow.</p> - -<p>The United States stand apart. Their resources are -so fabulously great that they and they alone are able -to wait for war before making war preparations. No -power will attack the United States. All powers will -submit to many things and yield many strong points -rather than fight the United States. The only territorial -neighbors of the republic are not only not in a -position to enter into military rivalry with her on the -American continent, but are not advancing their military -establishments with the growth of their or of her -population. They are of themselves not only unable -to attack, but equally unable in the long run effectively -to resist her.</p> - -<p>The whole question, then, unfortunately for us Europeans,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_336">336</a></span> -is a European question, and I need make but little -reference to happier lands across the greater seas.</p> - -<p>In Europe the United Kingdom stands absolutely -apart. The existence of the British Empire depends -less upon our armies than on our fleets. India is -garrisoned by a small but costly army, sufficient for -present needs, but insufficient to meet their probable -growth. The home army, kept mainly in England and -Ireland (and in Ireland now only because life is cheap -in Ireland and the country healthy and well fitted for -the drill and discipline of troops), has been chiefly a -nursery for the white army in India, and will be for that -in South Africa and in India. The expeditions which -the country is obliged to send from time to time across the -seas have but a domestic interest, and are unimportant -when viewed from a world-wide military stand-point. In -the event of war the attention of the country would be -concentrated upon her fleets, with a view to retain that -command of the sea without which her old-fashioned -army would be useless.</p> - -<p>Belgium has an old-fashioned army of another type. -A small force of conscripts is “drawn” and the men are -allowed to find substitutes for money. But Belgium -and the other smaller Powers, except Switzerland, Roumania, -and Bulgaria, may be neglected in our survey. -Switzerland has developed an excellent army of a special -local type, a cheap but highly efficient militia, the most -interesting point about which is that, while field artillery -is supposed to be difficult of creation and only to be obtained -upon a costly and regular system, Switzerland -produces an excellent field artillery upon a militia footing. -The garrison artillery militia of Great Britain have -longer training than the field artillery of the Swiss Federation, -but the results of the training are very different. -Similarly, while cavalry is supposed to be in the same -position as artillery in these matters, Hungary produces<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_337">337</a></span> -a good cavalry upon a militia system. It is, however, -to the native army in India that we have to turn if we -want to see what long service cavalry in past centuries -used to be, for in these days of shorter service cavalry -at least has suffered a decline, and, so far from cavalry, -on the whole, presenting us with a picture of military -progress in the century, the cavalry of the present day -is not to be compared with the cavalry of the past. Roumania -and Bulgaria, although small countries, have -remarkable armies of the most modern type, of great -strength when considered proportionately to their populations; -but these need not come under our examination, -because substantially they are on the Prussian -plan.</p> - -<p>Russia differs from Germany, France, and Austria in -having an immense peace army. Her peace army is -indeed as large as that of the whole of the Triple Alliance, -and the enormous distances of Russia and the difficulties -of mobilization and concentration force her into the -retention and development of a system which is now -peculiar to herself. The armies of Russia resemble -more closely (although on a far larger scale) the old -armies of the time before the changes which followed -1866 than the French, German, and Austrian armies of -to-day. Italy is decreasing her army, and has been -driven by her financial straits to completely spoil a system -which was never good except on paper. It is doubtful -whether now in a sudden war the Italians could put -into the field any thoroughly good troops, except their -Alpine battalions, which are equal to those of the French. -The Austrian system does not differ sufficiently from -those of Germany and of France to be worthy special -note, although it may be said in passing that the -Austrian army is now considered by competent observers -to be excellent. We may take as our type of -the armies of to-day those of Germany and of France.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_338">338</a></span> -These armies are also normal as regards their cost. -Great Britain having no conscription, and being in the -habit of paying dearly for all services, is extravagant in -her military expenditure for the results obtained. Switzerland -and Russia, with their different systems, and for -different reasons, obtain their armies very cheaply; and -if we wish to know the cost of the modern military -system it is to Germany and to France that we should -turn.</p> - -<p>Those who would study the French or German army -for themselves will find a large literature on the subject. -The principles which govern the establishment of an -armed nation upon the modern Prussian scale, improved -after the experiences of 1866 and again after those of -1870, are explained in the work of Von der Goltz, <cite>The -Nation in Arms</cite>. Those who would follow these principles -into their detailed application, and see how the -armies are divided between, and nourished and supplied -from the military districts of one of the great countries, -will find the facts set forth in such publications as the -illustrated <cite>Annual of the French Army</cite>, published -each year by Plon, Nourrit, et Cie., or in the official -handbooks published by the Librairie Militaire Baudoin.</p> - -<p>In the time of Bonaparte and even in the time of the -Second Empire in France army corps were of varying -strength, and there was no certain knowledge on the -part of administrators less admirable than the first -Napoleon himself of the exact numbers of men who -could be placed in the field. In 1870 Louis Napoleon -was wholly misinformed as to his own strength and as -to that of his opponents, which were, however, accurately -known to Von Moltke. In these days such confusions -and difficulties are impossible. The army corps of the -great military powers are of equal strength and would -be equally reinforced in the extraordinarily rapid mobilization -which would immediately precede and immediately<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_339">339</a></span> -follow a declaration of war. The chief changes in the -century have been a greater exactitude in these respects, -a general increase of numbers (especially a great increase -in the strength of field artillery), and in these last years -a grouping of the army corps into armies, which exist -in Germany, France, and Russia even in time of peace, -with all their generals and staffs named ready for war. -In each of the great military countries the army is guided -by the counsel of a general staff. Around the chief of -the staff and the Minister of War are the “generals of -armies,” and in France a potential generalissimo (who -on the outbreak of war would often be superseded by -another general in the actual command). In the case -of Germany the command would now be exercised by -the young Emperor. In the case of France it would -be exercised by the generalissimo, with the chief of the -staff as his “Berthier” or major-general. Enormously -important duties in the case of armies so unwieldy as -the entire forces of the first line and of the second line in -Germany or France and of the first line in Russia would -be exercised by the “generals of armies.” These generals -in time of peace are called “inspectors of armies” -in France, Germany, and Austria, and they inspect -groups of army corps which would be united in war to -form the armies which these generals would actually -command. These generals also form the council of -war or principal promotion board and committee of -advice for the generalissimo and chief of the staff. In -Germany and in Austria-Hungary the German Emperor -and the Emperor-King respectively are virtual -general inspectors-in-chief of the whole army, but in -France and in Russia there is less unity of command. -The Minister of War in Russia, in Germany, and in -France is intended to be at the head of the supplies of -the army in time of war, directing the administration -from the capital, and not taking his place in the field.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_340">340</a></span> -The Prussian system, as far as the men are concerned, -was adopted after the disasters of Prussia early in the -century, in order to pass great numbers of men through -the ranks without attracting attention by keeping up -a large peace army. The system is now maintained -by Germany, Austria, and France for a different reason. -Such powers desire to have an enormous force for war, -but, for budgetary reasons, to keep with the flag in time -of peace the smallest force which is consistent with training -the men sufficiently to enable them upon mobilization -to be brought back to their regiments as real soldiers. -It is these considerations which have induced the younger -and more thoughtful of the Prussian generals to force -on Germany a reduction of the period of infantry service -to two years. The army in time of peace becomes a -mere training-school for war, and the service is made -as short as possible, given the necessity of turning out -a man who for some years will continue to have the -traditions of a soldier. It is a question whether something -has not been sacrificed, in France, at all events, -to uniformity. A longer period of training is undoubtedly -necessary to make an efficient cavalry soldier than -is necessary to make an efficient infantry private; and -a man who has served about two and a half years only -in a cavalry regiment cannot in the majority of cases be -brought back into the cavalry after he has returned to -civil life. Cavalry, in the modern armies, is likely to be -a diminishing force as war goes on. The armies will -enter upon war with a number of infantry which can be -kept up, the losses of war being supplied by reserve -men as good as the men of the first line; but each army -will enter upon war with a force of cavalry which will be -rapidly destroyed if it is much used, and which will not -be replaced in the same manner. The reserve cavalry -of which the French press boasts is a paper force, and the -pretended mobilization of two of its regiments a farce.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_341">341</a></span> -The French would take the field with the cavalry of the -first line only, seventy-nine regiments of five hundred -horses (all over six years old), or less than half the eighty-four -thousand cavalry with which Napoleon marched -in 1812. The same thing might possibly be said of artillery -as is said of cavalry but for the fact that Switzerland -tells a different story as to the possibility of rapidly -training artillerymen with a considerable measure of -success. The French improvised artillery of the latter -part of the war of 1870 were also a creditable force, while -it was discovered to be impossible to create a cavalry.</p> - -<p>The efficiency of the reserves in France, Germany, -and Austria is tested by the calling out of large portions -of them every year for training, and they are found, as -far as the infantry go, thoroughly competent for the -work of war. The difficulties as regards cavalry are -so obvious that it is becoming more and more recognized -by Germany and by France that the cavalry will have -to take the field as they stand in peace, and that their -reserve men will have to be kept back with a view to -the selection among them of those who are fit to serve -as cavalry, and the relegation of the greater number -to the train and other services where ability to ride and -manage horses is more necessary than the smartness of -a good cavalryman. France and Germany nominally -look forward to the creation of two kinds of armies in -time of war, one of the first line to take the field at once, -and the other to guard the communications and garrison -and support the fortresses, but in fact it is the intention -of these powers to divide their armies into three—a -field army of the first line, a field army of the second -line, out of which fresh army corps will at once be created -on the outbreak of war, and, thirdly, a territorial army -for communications and for fortress purposes and as a -last reserve. It is a portion of the French and German -system that each army corps of the first line—and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_342">342</a></span> -same would be the case in war with the second line corps—has -its separate organization of ammunition train -and baggage train, and draws as largely as possible its -supplies from its own territorial district.</p> - -<p>The peace strength of the great modern armies is for -France and Germany about five hundred thousand men -each, and the war strength between four million and five -million men each. The peace strength of Russia is now -over nine hundred thousand men. Of the war armies -the training is not uniformly complete, but there are in -Germany, France, Austria, and Roumania sufficient reserves -of clothing and rifles to equip the war armies of -those powers for the field.</p> - -<p>The cost of the system of a modern army is very much -less than that of the old-fashioned armies. The United -Kingdom spent till lately (including loan money) about -eighteen million pounds sterling upon her army, India -rarely less than fourteen million pounds sterling and an -average of fifteen million pounds, and the British Empire, -outside the United Kingdom and India, two million -pounds, or an average of thirty-five million pounds -sterling in all upon land forces. The expenditure of -the United Kingdom upon land forces has been permanently -increased to an enormous extent by the South -African war and cannot now be estimated. The expenditure -of France and Germany upon land forces is -greatly less; and of Russia, large as is her peace army, -less again. But France and Germany in the event of -war can immediately each of them place millions of armed -men in the field in proper army formation and with -adequate command, whereas the United Kingdom can -place a doubtful three corps in the field in India with -great difficulty, and, in the true sense of the word, no -organized force at all at home without an incredible -amount of reorganization and waste of time after the -declaration of war. It is contended by the authorities<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_343">343</a></span> -responsible for the British army that two army corps -could be placed in the field at home, and elaborate paper -arrangements exist for this purpose; but the facts are as -I state them, and not as they are professed to be. It is -pretended that three corps of regulars were despatched -to South Africa. But the cavalry and artillery were, in -fact, created by lavish expenditure a long time after -the war had begun and after disasters caused by their -non-existence.</p> - -<p>Centralized as is the administrative system of France -and Germany in everything except war, the necessities -of modern warfare have forced upon the governments -of those countries a large amount of decentralization -as concerns military matters, and the less efficient military -machines of the United Kingdom and of Russia are far -more centralized than are the more efficient machines -of Germany and of France. The army corps districts -have in the latter countries so much autonomy as to -recall to the political student the federal organization -of the United States rather than the government of a -highly centralized modern power. As soon, however, as -war breaks out, the military states of time of peace would -be grouped, and the four or five groups known as “armies,” -also, of course, theoretically, brought together under -the directing eye of the generalissimo. In the case, -at all events, of Germany, unity of direction is perfectly -combined with decentralization and individual initiative.</p> - -<p>The mode in which a modern army on the anticipation -of war prepares itself for the field is extraordinarily rapid -in point of time as compared with the mode found necessary -in the time of Napoleon Bonaparte; and it is this -rapidity of mobilization and concentration which strikes -the observer as the greatest change or progress of the -century in connection with armies. But it is a mere -consequence of railroads and telegraphs, and is only -the application to military purposes of those increased<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_344">344</a></span> -facilities of locomotion which have played so great a -part in the progress of the century. Mobilization is, -of course, the union at points fixed beforehand of the men -of the reserves who bring the army up to its war footing, -and the clothing and equipment of these men, and the -distribution to the mobilized regiments of their full -materials of war. The cavalry and horse artillery kept -upon the frontier are now in a condition of permanent -readiness in the principal military countries, as they -would be used to cover the mobilization of the remainder -of the army. The moment mobilization is accomplished -concentration takes place—on the frontier in the case of -the principal powers. Near the line of concentration -are forts, which play a greater part in the French scheme -of defence than they do in the German. The French -in the days of their weakness after 1870 both constructed -a line of intrenched camps and built a kind of wall of -China along the most exposed portion of their eastern -frontier; whereas the Germans are prepared to rely upon -their field armies, supported by a few immense fortresses, -such as those (on their western frontier) of Metz and -Strasburg. The French keep in front of their fortresses -at Nancy a strong division, which is virtually always -on a war footing, and both in France and Germany -the frontier corps are at a higher peace strength than -those of the interior, and are meant to take the field at -once so as to help the cavalry and horse artillery to protect -the mobilization and concentration of the remainder, -and, if possible, to disturb the mobilization and concentration -of the foe. Those who would study modern -armies for themselves should visit Nancy and Metz, -but should not neglect the Swiss annual manœuvres.</p> - -<p>The work of the recruit of Germany and of France, -during his two years’ or nearly three years’ training as -the case may be, is as hard as any human work; and the -populations of the continental countries submit, not on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_345">345</a></span> -the whole unwillingly, from patriotic motives, to a slavery -of which the more fortunate inhabitants of the United -Kingdom and of the United States have no conception. -The British or the Belgian paid recruit would mutiny -if forced to work as works the virtually unpaid and ill-fed -recruit of Russia, Germany, Austria, and France. -The enormous loss to many industries which is caused -by the withdrawal of the men at the age of twenty, just -when they are most apt to become skilled workmen, -is in the opinion of some Germans compensated for by -the habit of discipline and the moral tone of stiffness -and endurance which is communicated to the soldier for -the rest of his life. This is perhaps more true of the -German character than it is of the inhabitants of the -other countries; and in France, at least, the soldier training -of the entire population is a heavy drawback to industrial -and to intellectual life. There are, however, -as will be seen in the concluding passage of this article, -other considerations to be taken into account, some -of which tell the other way.</p> - -<p>The one successful exception to the prevailing military -system of the day is to be found in Switzerland, -which has a very cheap army of the militia type, but -one which is, nevertheless, pronounced efficient by the -best judges. The mobilization of Switzerland in 1870 -was more rapid than that of either Germany or France, -and, great as are the strides that both France and Germany -have made in rapidity of organization and as regards -numbers since 1870, the Swiss also have reorganized -their mobilization system since that time, and are -still able, at a much less proportional cost, to place in -the field at least as large a proportional force as Germany, -and this force believed to be efficient, although -not largely provided with cavalry.</p> - -<p>The greatest change in the battle-fields of the future, -as compared with those of a few years ago, will be found<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_346">346</a></span> -in the development and increased strength of the artillery. -A modern army, when it takes up a position, has -miles of front almost entirely occupied with guns, and -the guns have to fire over the infantry, because there is -no room for such numbers of guns to be used in any other -way. The attacking side (if both, indeed, in one form -or another, do not attempt attack) will be chiefly occupied -in obtaining positions on which to place its guns, -and the repeating-rifle itself, deadly as is its fire, cannot -contend at ranges over a thousand yards, unless the -riflemen are heavily intrenched, with the improved -shrapnel fire of modern guns. The early engagements -of a war will, indeed, be engagements of cavalry massed -upon the frontier on the second day of mobilization, so -rapid will the opening of war in the future be. This -cavalry will be accompanied by horse artillery and followed -by light infantry, constantly practised in rapid -marching in time of peace, or by mounted infantry. But -the great battle-fields of the later weeks will be battle-fields, -above all, of artillery. The numbers engaged -will be so great that the heaviest of all the responsibilities -of the generals will be the feeding of their troops -during the battles prolonged during several days, which -will probably occur, and it is doubtful how far the old -generals (often grown unwieldy in time of peace) will be -able to stand the daily and nightly strain of war. Jomini -has said that when both sides are equally strong -in numbers, in courage, and in many other elements of -force, the great tragedy of Borodino is the typical battle. -Lewal has pointed out that in the battles of the future -such equality must be expected: “The battle will begin -on the outbreak of war in the operations of the frontier -regiments. The great masses as they come to the field -will pour into a fight already raging. The battle will -be immense and prolonged.” Promotion will probably -be rapid among the generals, owing to incompetence and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_347">347</a></span> -retirement, and certainly among other officers owing to -their exposure in these days of smokeless powder, when -good shots can pick off officers in a manner unknown -in wars which have hitherto occurred. Whether it will -be possible to get armies to advance under heavy fire -after the officers have been killed is doubtful, when we -remember that modern armies consist of the whole population, -cowards and brave men alike, and that regimental -cohesion is weakened by the sudden infusion of an -overwhelming proportion of reserve men at the last moment. -On the other hand, in the German army the reserve -men will be fewer in the first line than in the French, -and the regimental system more available in the field, -while on the French side the greater military aptitude -of the French race may perhaps be counted upon to remedy -the comparative defect. The Prussians make up -for the inferior military aptitude of the German people -by patriotism, discipline, and the conferring of honor -and of civil employment, in after life, on all who do their -duty in war. They also provide more effectively than -do the French against incapacity in high place. Above -all, however, we should attach importance to the wisdom -of successive Kings of Prussia in treating the Prussian -army as an almost sacred institution, and in constantly -working in time of peace to make it and keep it a perfect -instrument of war.</p> - -<p>The weakest point, relatively speaking, in the French -organization, and the strongest point, relatively speaking, -in the German, is the officering of the second and -third line. The one-year-volunteer system gives the -Germans excellent “territorial” officers, while the French -have been forced virtually to abolish it as impossible of -successful application in a country so jealous of privilege -as is modern France. The territorial infantry regiments -of France would be excellent for the defence of fortresses, -but would for field purposes be inferior to that part of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_348">348</a></span> -Prussian landwehr which would remain over after the -completion of the reserve corps. The reserve cavalry -regiments of France have been created in order to provide -promotion and sinecure appointments, and would -not produce a cavalry fit for true cavalry service in the -field. It would carry us beyond the proper limits of this -article to explain how it is that the French could create -a field artillery of the second line in time of war which -would probably be superior to that of Germany. This -forms a set-off against some other inferiority of the French.</p> - -<p>The newest point in the development of modern armies -is the recent separation in the German army of the cavalry -intended for patrol duties from the cavalry intended -for fighting in the field. We have had to face the same -problem in South Africa, but this condition of our war -was peculiar.</p> - -<p>It has been said that the history of warfare is the history -of the struggle among weapons, and that each change -in tactics and even in strategy has come from scientific -change affecting weapons. In the century we have seen -the change from the smooth-bore to the rifle and from -the ordinary to the repeating rifle. We have seen the -modifications of artillery, which are beginning to give an -application of the quick-firing principle to field artillery, -and the use of high explosive shells, likely to affect by -their explosion even those who are near the bursting shell -and who are not struck by its fragments. Smokeless -powder has altered the look of battles and has reduced -their noise. It provides excuse for the incompetent. It -would be easy, however, to exaggerate the importance -of these changes as regards tactics, and still more with -regard to strategy, while with tactics we are not here -concerned. The great continental military nations have -hitherto not allowed themselves to be much affected by -the changes in the weapons, and many of the modern -fads which are adopted in small armies are condemned<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_349">349</a></span> -by the leaders of these great forces. The British machine -guns, for example, like British mounted infantry, -are generally regarded on the continent as a fancy of -our own. All nations have their military fads, except, -perhaps, the severely practical Germans. Russia has -its dragoon organization, from which it is receding; -America has her dynamite gun; the French have their -submarine torpedo-boats. Our machine guns are not -thought much more of by most Prussians than the steam-gun -of 1844, ridiculed by Dickens in <cite>Martin Chuzzlewit</cite>. -If great change was to have been made in the art of war -by modern weapons, one would have thought that the -first things to disappear would be all vestige of protective -armor and the use of cavalry in the field. Yet protective -armor has been recently restored to as large a proportion -of many armies as used it in the wars of the beginning of -the century, and the use of cavalry in the field is defended -as still possible by all the highest authorities on the continent. -My own opinion on such matters is that of a -layman and should be worthless, but it agrees with that -of several distinguished military writers. I confess that -I doubt whether in future wars between good armies, -such as those of France and Germany, it will be possible -to employ cavalry on the field of battle, and I go so far as -to think that the direct offensive, still believed in by the -Prussians, will be found to have become too costly to be -possible. Our South African experience is not, however, -regarded by continental authorities as conclusive.</p> - -<p>The author of <cite>Ironclads in Action</cite>, Mr. Wilson, who -has made a very thorough study of the future of naval -war, has pointed out with great force the most striking -difficulties of war in the future as caused by the -enormous concentration of forces in a particular tract -of country. The result of that concentration must be -great difficulties about supply, prolonged battles of an -indecisive kind leading to exposure, absence of sleep,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_350">350</a></span> -and to conditions which would form the severest strain -for professional men of war, while those who will now be -subject to them will be the ordinary population, not very -specially warriors, except so far as patriotism may in -some cases make up as regards courage and endurance -for absence of military tradition. The vast number of -wounded will be exposed for longer periods than was the -case in many of the earlier wars; but when we remember -Leipsic, and Dresden, and the retreat from Moscow, it is -again easy to see that the change is rather in the direction -of generalization of conditions, which were formerly -exceptional, than a change to conditions wholly without -precedent.</p> - -<p>I have all through this article written of Germany and -France as the modern military countries to be taken as a -standard in all comparisons. The French have imitated -the Germans very closely since the war of 1870. But, -although imitation is generally feeble, it must always -be borne in mind that the French people have greater -military aptitude than the German, and that unless -beaten at the beginning of a war they are always in the -highest degree formidable. The perfection of system -is to be found in Germany, and the peculiarities of the -German system are the combination of enlightened -patriotism in all its individuality with iron discipline. -The system is so strong that unless well managed it -would crush out individual responsibility; but the system -itself encourages this individual responsibility all down -the gradations of the army to the humblest non-commissioned -officer and even to the detached private. The -universality of promotion by a certain high standard of -merit and the absence of jobbery are more thoroughly -obtained in Germany than in any other army, and Lord -Wolseley’s criticisms on the 1898 manœuvres of our -own army, criticisms renewed in 1900, in which he told -us that no one had done well in the field, and that this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_351">351</a></span> -proved that no one could have done his duty during the -past year, would be impossible in Germany, and must -have shocked military opinion throughout that country.</p> - -<p>It is not unusual to assume that the enormous military -establishments of the continent of Europe are an almost -unmixed evil. But this may perhaps be disputed on -two grounds. In some cases, such as that of Italy, the -army acts as a kind of rough national university in which -the varied life of districts often discordant is fused into -a patriotic whole, dialects are forgotten, and a common -language learned. In the case of France the new military -system is a powerful engine of democracy. There is a -French prince (not of the blood) serving at this moment -in a squad of which the corporal is a young peasant from -the same department. A few years ago I found the -Duc de Luynes, who is also Duc de Chaulnes and Duc -de Chevreuse, the owner of Dampierre, the personal -friend of kings, serving, by his own wish, for, as the eldest -son of a widow, he was exempt, as a private of dragoons, -and respectfully saluting young officers, some of whom -were his own tenants. The modern military system of -the continent, in the case of France and Germany at -least, may also, I think, be shown to have told in favor -of peace. It is possible for us to occasionally demand -a war with the greater freedom, because we do not as a -rule know what war means. Those of us who have seen -something of it with our own eyes are a very small -minority. But every inhabitant of France and Germany -has the reality of war brought home to him with the -knowledge that those of his own kin would have to furnish -their tribute of “cannon flesh” (as the French and -Germans call it) at the outbreak of any war; and the -influence of the whole of the women of both countries is -powerfully exerted in consequence upon the side of -peace.</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">Charles W. Dilke.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_355">355</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="NAVAL_SHIPS"></a>NAVAL SHIPS</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">In</span> the conditions of naval warfare the century now -closed has seen a revolution unparalleled in the rapidity -of the transition and equalled in degree only by -the changes which followed the general introduction of -cannon and the abandonment of oars in favor of sails -for the propulsion of ships of war. The latter step was -consequent, ultimately, upon the discovery of the New -World and of the sea-passage to India by the Cape of -Good Hope. The voyage to those distant regions was -too long and the remoteness from ports of refuge too -great for rowing galleys, a class of vessels whose construction -unfitted them for developing great size and for -contending with heavy weather. The change of motive -power made possible and entailed a different disposition -of the fighting power, the main battery weight of ships -being transferred from the bows and sterns—end-on fire—to -the broadsides. The combination of these two new -factors caused ships and fleets necessarily to be fought -in a different manner from formerly—entailed, to use the -technical word, new tactics.</p> - -<p>The innovations thus briefly mentioned, though equally -radical, were much more gradual in their progress -than those witnessed by our generation. The latter -have occurred not merely within the lifetime but within -the memory of many who are still among us. They -are embraced, easily and entirely, within the reign of -Queen Victoria. It has been said, plausibly, that if a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_356">356</a></span> -naval officer who died half a century ago could revisit -the earth he would find himself more at home in the -ships of Elizabeth than in those of her present successor. -No such sudden and sharp contrast troubled -the seamen of the earlier era. It is true and interesting -to note that the battle of Lepanto in 1573, although a -few vessels of broadside type therein exercised a decisive -influence, was fought chiefly by galleys, while in the -contest with the Spanish Armada in the English Channel -fifteen years later sailing ships played the leading part; -but while the fact gives a valuable assistance to precision -of memory by fixing an approximate date when the one -type was definitely supplanted by the other, it remains -that the turning-point thus indicated was reached long -after cannon and sails first were used afloat, and that -another century elapsed before the galley was definitively -abandoned.</p> - -<h3>BIRD’S-EYE VIEW OF THE TRANSITION</h3> - -<p>A few dates will illustrate the swiftness of our recent -transformations. In 1838, when the French navy reduced -San Juan de Ulloa, the principal defence of Vera -Cruz, and in 1840, in the British attack upon Acre, the -fighting power was wholly in sailing ships such as -had fought at Trafalgar thirty-five years before. Two -small paddle steamers towed the French frigate into -position, while the four British vessels of the same type -contributed only a desultory addition to the broadsides -of seven sailing ships of the line, which compelled the -surrender of the fortress. The first screw ship of the -line in the British navy was launched in 1852; the last -sailing ship of that class went out of commission in -1860. All alike, the ships of Vera Cruz and of Acre, -and their short-reigning successors, the steam frigates -and ships of the line, are now as much things of the past,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_357">357</a></span> -in sails, in engines, and in guns, as are the galleys of -Lepanto and the ships of the Armada. By 1870 it had -been recognized everywhere that a type of vessel corresponding -in essential features with the present armored -battle-ships had displaced all competitors. The span -of a single generation had seen the transition of the -ships of Drake and Nelson to those of our own day. -The career of Farragut was run in the intermediate period. -His success for the most part was achieved and his -renown won with vessels substantially of the older type, -but with auxiliary steam-power.</p> - -<p>It is almost needless to remark that this seemingly -abrupt transition is but one incident in the startling -progress made during the century in all the arts of peace -as of war. Like the others, it is due to an intellectual -activity, greater probably than that of our predecessors, -and directed since the peace of 1815 less upon -external political interests than upon scientific investigation, -and upon the application of the results to the -improvement of processes of every kind. The changes -in conception and in development of the instruments -of naval warfare result from the increased power of -dealing with refractory material which has been acquired -by scientific and practical men in the laboratory and the -workshop. Thus viewed, though so rapid in realization -as to amount to a revolution, not only is the change -seen to be the outcome of a long, though silent preparation, -but it is brought also into its due relation to -the general movement of the age, and found to share its -special characteristics. Our ancestors of the eighteenth -century had their own problems, noble and absorbing, -but chiefly political in character. While new worlds -were being gathered into the embrace of European civilization, -the leading powers struggling among themselves -for pre-eminence in the work, and while the harvest was -ripening for the French Revolution, science crept forward,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_358">358</a></span> -but slowly and silently, the pre-occupation of the few, -not the interest of the many.</p> - -<p>The object of the present article is to describe the type -of war vessel prevalent universally among civilized -nations when the nineteenth century opened, and to -trace historically the sequence of ideas and of facts -which have resulted in the type whose general acceptance -is seen now in the practice of the chief naval states.</p> - -<h3>SAILING SHIPS AND BROADSIDE BATTERIES</h3> - -<p>When the nineteenth century began, the ships that -contended for the control of the sea were, and for two -centuries had been, sailing ships with broadside batteries: -the guns, that is, were distributed along both -sides from the bow to the stern on one, two, three, or -four decks. From the largest down, all were of this -type until the very smallest class was reached. In the -latter, which could scarcely be considered fighting ships, -the gun power was at times concentrated into a single -piece, which swept from side to side round the horizon, -thus anticipating partially the modern turreted ironclad -with its concentrated revolving battery.</p> - -<p>The arrangement of guns in broadside involved anomalies -and inconveniences which seem most singular when -first noted. A ship in chase of another, for instance, -had no guns which threw straight ahead. If it were -wished to fire, in order to cripple the fleeing enemy, it -was necessary to deflect from the course; and in order -to bring most of the guns on one side into play the vessel -had to swing round nearly at right angles to the direction -of pursuit. This, of course, lost both time and ground. -Broadside fire—the distribution of guns in broadside—rests, -however, upon an unchangeable condition, which -controls now as it did a century ago. Ships then were -from three to four times as long as they were broad;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_359">359</a></span> -the proportion now is, length from four to six times the -breadth—or beam, as it is technically called. Therefore, -except in small vessels, where the concentration -of the whole weight that can be carried in battery gave -but one piece effective against a probable target, a full -development of fire required the utilization of the long -side of the ship rather than of its short cross-section. -This is precisely analogous to the necessity that an army -has of deploying into line, from any order of march, -in order to develop its full musketry fire. The mechanical -attainment of the last century did not permit the construction -of single guns that would contain the weight -of the whole battery of a big ship: but even had it, guns -are not wanted bigger than will penetrate their target -most effectively. When an ounce of lead will kill a man -it is useless to fire a pound. The limit of penetration -once reached, it is numbers, not size, that tell: and numbers -could be had only by utilizing the broadside. This -condition remains operative now; but as modern battle-ships -present two or more kinds of target—the heavy -armored and that which is light armored, or unprotected—the -application of the principle in practice becomes -more complicated. Batteries now are necessarily less -homogeneous than they once were, because targets vary -more.</p> - -<h3>DISAPPEARANCE OF BOW FIRE</h3> - -<p>The adoption of broadside batteries followed, therefore, -necessarily upon increase of size and consequent -length, but not upon that only. It is instructive to observe -that the sailing fighting ship was derived, in part, -at least, from the galley, and its resemblance in form -to the latter is traceable for at least a century after the -general disuse of the oar. As the galley, however, -was small, it could concentrate its fire advantageously -in one or two pieces, for which small number the cross-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_360">360</a></span>section -offered a sufficient line of emplacement: and as, -when it could move at all, it could move in any direction, -there was a further advantage in being able to fire in -the direction of its motion. Hence, bow fire prevailed -in galleys to the end, although the great galleasses of -Lepanto and the Armada had accepted broadside batteries -in great part, and whenever the galley type has -recurred, as on Lake Champlain during our Revolutionary -War, bow fire has predominated. The sailing ship, -on the contrary, was limited as to the direction in which -she could move. Taking her as the centre of a circle, -she could not steer directly for much more than half -the points on the circumference. Bow fire consequently -was much less beneficial to her, and, further, it was -found that, for reasons not necessary to particularize, -her sailing, steering, and manœuvring were greatly benefited -by the leverage of sails carried on the bowsprit -and its booms, projecting forward of the bow, where -they interfered decisively with right-ahead fire.</p> - -<p>For all these reasons, bow fire disappeared and broadside -fire prevailed; but the fundamental one to be remembered -is the greater development of fire conferred -by greater length. All ships—except the very small -ones known as schooners, cutters, and gunboats—were -broadside vessels, moved by canvas which was -carried commonly on two or three masts; but into the -particulars of the sails it is presumed readers will not -care to enter. Being thus homogeneous in general -characteristics, the ships of this era were divided commonly -into three principal classes, each of which had -subdivisions; but it was recognized then, as it is now -in theory though too little in practice, that such multiplication -of species is harmful, and our forerunners, -by a process of gradual elimination, had settled down -upon certain clearly defined medium types.</p> - -<p>The smallest of the three principal classes of fighting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_361">361</a></span> -ships were called sloops-of-war, or corvettes. These -had sometimes two masts, sometimes three; but the -particular feature that differentiated them was that they -had but one row of guns in broadside, on an uncovered -deck. The offices discharged by this class of vessel were -various, but in the apprehension of the writer they may -be considered rightly as being above all the protectors -or destroyers of commerce in transit. All ships of war, -of course, contributed to this end; but the direct preying -upon commerce, upon merchant ships, whose resisting -power was small, was done most economically by small -vessels of relatively small power. Having a given -amount of tonnage to devote to commerce destroying, -many small vessels are more effective than a few big -ones of unnecessary force. Such being the nature of -the attack, the resistance must be similar in kind. That -is, a flock of merchant ships being liable to attack by -many small adversaries, several small protectors would -be more efficient than one or two large ones. Sloops-of-war -served also as despatch vessels and lookouts of a -fleet, but were less well adapted to this service than -the frigate was.</p> - -<h3>THE FRIGATE AND HER GUNS</h3> - -<p>This latter celebrated and favorite class of ship stood -next in order of power above the corvette, with which it -might also be said to have blended; for although in -the frigate class there were two, or at the most three, -rates that predominated vastly in numbers over all the -rest, yet the name covered many differing degrees of -force. The distinguishing feature of the frigate was -that it carried one complete row of guns upon a covered -deck—upon a deck, that is, which had another deck -over it. On this upper or spar deck there were also -guns—more or fewer—but lighter in weight than those<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_362">362</a></span> -on the covered deck, usually styled the main deck. The -two principal classes of frigates at the beginning of this -century were the thirty-two-gun and the thirty-eight-gun. -That is, they carried nominally sixteen or nineteen -guns on each side; but the enumeration is misleading, -except as a matter of comparison, for guns of some -classes were not counted. Ships generally had a few -more cannon than their rate implied. The United States -thirty-two-gun frigate <i>Essex</i>, for example, carried at -first twenty-six long twelves on the main deck, with sixteen -carronades and two chase guns on the spar deck. -Above these two classes came the forty-four-gun frigate, -a very powerful rate, which was favored by the United -States navy and received a development of strength then -unprecedented.</p> - -<p>Being such as here described, the frigate was essentially, -though not exclusively, the appendage of a fleet -of line-of-battle ships. Wars are decided not by commerce -destroying nor by raids, however vexatious, but -by fleets and armies, by great organized masses—that -is, by crushing, not by harassment. But ships of the -line, to perform their function, must keep together, both -when cruising and when on the field of battle, in order -to put forth their strength in combination. The innumerable -detached services that must be discharged -for every great organized force need for a fleet to be done -by vessels of inferior strength, yet so strong that they -cannot be intercepted or driven off lightly by every whipper-snapper -of an armed ship that comes along. Moreover, -a fact not always realized, speed—speed to hasten -on a mission, to overtake a foe, or to escape pursuit—depends -upon size, masts that can carry sail and hold -way amid heavy seas. Hence the frigate, not the lighter -sloop, was indicated for the momentous duties upon -which depended the intelligence and the communications -of the fleet. Such leading considerations are needed to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_363">363</a></span> -be stated and to be kept in mind, for they affected the -warfare of the last decade of the century quite as really -as they did that of the first, and a paper would indeed -be incomplete which confined itself to indicating points -of difference of progress, so-called, and failed to recognize -those essential and permanent conditions which -time will never remove. Frigates and sloops have disappeared -in name and form, in motive power and in armament. -Their essential functions remain, and will -remain while war lasts.</p> - -<h3>DUTIES OF THE FRIGATE</h3> - -<p>The truth of this statement will be evident from a -brief mention of the duties frigates actually used to perform. -While attending the fleet, not merely a part of it, -the frigates were thrown out far in advance and on each -side, as cavalry on land scours the country towards or -through which the army advances. The distance to -which they would be thus detached would sometimes -amount to one hundred or two hundred miles, and the -absence to days, rejoining being assured by the assignment -of a rendezvous, or by an adequate knowledge of -the admiral’s intended movements. It will be recognized -that when thus alone frigates might meet equal or superior -forces, to resist or to escape from which both -strength and speed were needed. An extreme and particular -case of such service was the watching of an -enemy’s port by one or more frigates, when they had to -keep close to the entrance, although a fleet might be -within. Again, frigates were placed in certain central -positions, rendezvous known only to the superior officers, -where they cruised steadily, having information -as to the whereabouts of the fleet, or instructions for -expected vessels. They were there centres of intelligence, -round which the movements of the whole body revolved.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_364">364</a></span> -When the fleet was actually in touch with a hostile -fleet, in pursuit, or when expecting battle, the frigates -were placed between their own force and the enemy; -nearer, however, to the latter, as the essential point was -to keep knowledge of his whereabouts and probable -intentions. Such a position was at times extremely exposed. -The frigates had to avoid equally capture and -being driven and shaken off; they must keep close, yet -not be caught. When engagement ensued they passed -through to the off side of their own fleet, where they were -dispersed at intervals abreast the main line, like the -file closers of a military line ashore. Here they fulfilled -one special purpose, besides others. As the fleet fought -with broadsides only, its ships were ranged one ahead of -the other. Consequently signals made on the masts of -the admiral could not be seen always by those ahead or -astern of him; but the frigates in the other line made the -same signals, “repeated,” as it was said, where they -could be read more certainly. But frigates did also -more hazardous work. They went to crippled ships of -the line and towed them into other positions, into or out -of fire, and at times the admiral summoned a frigate -alongside to carry a message to some part of the battle. -“I noticed,” says Marryatt, in one of his novels, “the -look of pride on the faces of our officers when it appeared -that the loss on board our frigate was greater than that -of some of the ships in the line.”</p> - -<p>For such offices it is evident there were wanted a -strength and a weight which the corvette did not have. -A corvette would make poor work of towing a heavy -ship, and could not carry as surely the sail needed to -maintain a position. At the same time it should be observed -that excess of size above the requirements stated -should be exceptional. In the opinion of the writer the -forty-four-gun frigate in her day possessed a fighting -force and a weight of body in excess of that required<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_365">365</a></span> -by the ordinary functions of her nominal class. For -exceptional reasons, a few of the type were permissible -in a large navy. On the other hand, it may be inferred -from the long experience of the British navy, and the resultant -practice, that ships of twenty-eight, twenty-four, -and twenty guns, though often styled frigates, were not -found satisfactory as such. In the distribution of tonnage -between size and numbers, a mean must be found; -and it must be added that a just mean is a very different -thing from a compromise. These considerations also -apply to present-day problems.</p> - -<h3>EARLY SHIPS OF THE LINE</h3> - -<p>In the fleet-ship, likewise the ship of the line, as the -opening century styled the class of vessel known in the -closing days as the battle-ship, our predecessors had -reached a mean conclusion. The line-of-battle ship, or -the ship of the line, as more usually called, differed from -the frigate generically, in that it had two or more covered -decks. There were one or two cases of ships with four -decks, but, as a rule, three were the extreme; and ships -of the line were roughly classed as two or three deckers. -Under these heads two-deckers carried in their two centuries -of history from fifty to eighty-four guns; three-deckers -from ninety to one hundred and twenty. The -increase in number of guns, resulting, as it did, from -increase of size, was not the sole gain of ships of the line. -The bigger ships got, the heavier were their timbers, -the thicker their planking, the more impenetrable, therefore, -their sides. There was a gain, in short, of defensive -as well as offensive strength, analogous to the protection -given by armor. “As the enemy’s ships were -big,” wrote a renowned British admiral, “they took a -great deal of drubbing.”</p> - -<p>Between the great extremes of strength indicated by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_366">366</a></span> -fifty and one hundred and twenty guns—whose existence -at one and the same time was the evidence of blind -historical development, rather than of intelligent relative -processes—the navy of a century ago had settled upon a -mean, to appreciate which the main idea and purport of -the ship of the line must be grasped. The essential -function of the ship “of the line” was, as the name implies, -to act in combination with other ships in a line of -battle. To do this was needed not only fighting power, -but manœuvring ability—speed and handiness—and -in order that these qualities might approach homogeneousness -throughout the fleet, and so promote action in -concert, the acceptance of a mean type was essential. -To carry three decks of guns, a ship had to expose above -water a side disproportionately high relatively to her -length, her depth, and her hold upon the water. She -consequently drifted rapidly when her side was turned -to the wind; while, if her length was increased, and so -her hold on the water, she needed more time and room -to tack and to wear—that is, to turn around. Ships of -this class also were generally—though not necessarily—slow.</p> - -<h3>ADVANTAGES OF THE SEVENTY-FOURS</h3> - -<p>The two-decked ship was superior in speed and in -handiness, and for that reason, even when acting singly, -she could put forth such power as she possessed more -quickly and more certainly. But these qualities were -most conspicuously valuable when ship had to act with -ship. The great secret of military success, concerted -action in masses, was in the hands of the two-decked -ship, because in her were united to the highest point individual -power and facility for combined action. And -this was true not only of two-deckers in general, but of -the particular species known as the seventy-four-gun -ship. Ships below that rate lacked individual fighting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_367">367</a></span> -power. Ships above it, the eighty and eighty-four, lost -manœuvring power because of their greater length and -weight. Under the conditions of sail a fleet of seventy-fours -could get out the whole power of the force more -surely and more rapidly than the equivalent number of -guns in ships of any other kind. Thus offensive power -dictated its survival. To our own day it reads the -lesson that offensive power, the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">sine quâ non</i> of a military -organization, lies not merely in the greatest strength -of the single ships, but in the uniformity of their action -and rapidity of their movements, as conducive to the quick -putting forth of the strength of the whole body at once -and in mutual support.</p> - -<p>It may be asked naturally, why, then, were there any -ships bigger or smaller than this favored type? For -smaller, the answer is that short ships of lighter draught -are best suited for shoal or intricate navigation. The -shoals of Holland forbade heavy ships to the Dutch -navy, materially reducing its fighting strength. Before -France entered our Revolutionary struggle the -British sent only sixty-fours to operate upon our comparatively -shallow coasts and bars. As regards bigger -ships, they were useful exceptionally, as were forty-four-gun -frigates, and for the following reason: Every line of -battle has three particularly dangerous points—the centre, -because there the line, if pierced, divides into the two -smaller fragments; and the flanks, or ends, because -the extremities are supported less easily by the rest -of the force than the centre is, one extremity being farther -from the other than the centre is from either. Such -local weakness could not be remedied by the use of two -ships, for, if the line were properly closed, one of them -could fire at the enemy only through or over the other. -The sole way of giving the strength there required was -by concentrating it into individual ships, either by putting -on the additional battery, which gives a three-decker,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_368">368</a></span> -or by making the seventy-four heavier, resulting in -an eighty-gun ship on two decks. These stronger vessels -were, therefore, stationed in the centre or on the -flanks of a line of battle. The particular functions, the -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">raison d’être</i>, of the three leading classes of ships of -war—the sloop, the frigate, and the ship of the line—have -now been stated. It remains to give an account -of the chief features of the armament carried on their -broadsides, as described.</p> - -<h3>BATTERIES SEVENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO</h3> - -<p>When the nineteenth century began, batteries of ships -were composed of two principal classes of guns: the long -gun and the short gun, or carronade. The difference between -these lay in the way the weight of metal allowed for -each was utilized. The long gun, as its name implies, -was comparatively long and thick, and threw a small -ball with a heavy charge of powder. The ball, therefore, -flew swiftly, and had a long range. A carronade -of the same weight was short and comparatively thin, -could use only a small charge of powder, lest it burst, -and threw a large ball. Its shot, therefore, moved slowly -and had short range. Fired at a target—a ship’s side—within -range of both guns, the shot from the long gun -penetrated quickly, the wood had not time to splinter -badly, and a clean hole was the result. The carronade’s -shot, on the contrary, being both larger and slower, -penetrated with difficulty, all the surrounding wood felt -the strain and broke up into splinters, leaving a large -jagged hole, if the shot got through. These effects were -called respectively piercing and smashing, and are reproduced, -in measure, upon targets representing the -side of a modern ironclad. They have been likened familiarly -to the effect of a pistol-ball and of a stone upon a window -pane: the one goes through clean, the other crashes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_369">369</a></span> -The smashing of the carronades, when fully realized, -was worse than penetration, and was greatly dreaded; -but, on the other hand, a ship which feared them in an -opponent might keep out of their range. This expedient -was so effective that carronades, which did great -damage until their tactics were understood, gradually -fell into disfavor. Nevertheless, they remained in use -till after the peace of 1815. In 1814 the battery of the -U. S. S. <i>Essex</i> was chiefly carronades, and their inadequate -range was a large factor in her defeat.</p> - -<p>At the period in question guns of all sorts fired only -non-explosive projectiles, solid or hollow shot. The destructive -shell of the present day was used only by pieces -called mortars, in vertical firing, which will be spoken of -farther on. Such were not mounted on the ships of the -fleet generally, nor used against shipping, except when -packed in a small harbor. They did not enter into naval -warfare proper. The ram and the torpedo of present -warfare were unknown. On the other hand, there was -practised a form of fighting which is thought now to -have disappeared forever, namely, boarding and fighting -hand-to-hand on the deck. Even then, however, -boarding did not decide the main issue of a sea-fight, -except occasionally in very small vessels. The deck of -a large and fresh ship was not to be reached easily. -Boarding was like the cavalry charge that routs a wavering -line; the ship had been beaten at the guns before it -occurred.</p> - -<p>The real fighting was done by the long guns and carronades -disposed in the broadsides. Besides rapidity -and precision of fire, always invaluable, the two opponents -sought advantage of position by manœuvring. -They closed, or they kept apart, according to their understanding -of the other’s weight and kind of battery. -Each tried, when possible, to lie across the bow or the -stern of the enemy, for then his guns ranged from end<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_370">370</a></span> -to end of the hostile ship, while the latter’s broadside -could not reply. Failing this extreme advantage of -position, the effort was made so to place one’s self that -the opponent’s guns could not bear—for they swept only -a few degrees before and abaft the broadside—while -your own could. If this also was impossible, the contestants -lay side to side at a greater or less distance, -and the affair became an artillery duel.</p> - -<h3>BRITISH AND FRENCH STYLES OF FIGHTING</h3> - -<p>Besides these recognized advantages of position, there -was also a question upon what part of the enemy the -fire should be directed. In this there were two principal -schools of tactics, one of which aimed at the hull, to -break down the fire of the hostile ship and destroy her -fighting men, while the other sought, by pointing higher, -to cut away the sails, rigging, and masts, rendering the -foe helpless. The latter, in general, was the policy of -the French; the former, and, it may be affirmed, the -more surely successful, was the practice of the British. -The two schools find their counterpart in the tactical -considerations which now affect the question of rapid-fire -and of heavy guns, each of which has its appropriate -target, covering in the latter case the motive power, in -the former the personnel.</p> - -<p>These three leading classes of vessels, with their functions, -armaments, and tactics of the single ship, as described, -performed in their day and during the great -maritime contests of two centuries all the duties that at -any time can be required of a maritime fighting organization. -By them the control of the sea in the largest sense -was disputed and was determined; by them commerce -was attacked, and by them it was protected. They -themselves have passed away, but the military factors -remain the same. The mastery of the sea and the control<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_371">371</a></span> -of its commerce—of which blockade is but a special -case—are now and must remain always the chief ends -of maritime war. The ends continuing the same, the -grand disposition of navies—their strategy—reposes -upon the same principles that it ever did. Similarly, -while the changes in the characteristics of ships will -cause the individual vessel to be fought in manners -different from its predecessors, the handling of masses of -ships in battle—fleet tactics—must proceed on the same -general principles as of old. The centre and the two extremities -of all orders are always the points of danger; -concentration upon one or two of the three, however effected, -must be always the principle of action. These -things, which cannot vary, form, therefore, no part of a -paper which deals with changes.</p> - -<h3>THEY HAD THEIR BREAK-DOWNS THEN, TOO</h3> - -<p>There should be added for the general public the caution -that the difficulties, the imperfections, and the frequent -halting state of ships-of-war in commission for -sea service at the present day are no new things. To -the naval historian familiar with the correspondence of -the past they are the inevitable attendants of all government -action, wherein the most economical methods -are always dominated, historically, by considerations -of expediency which are political in character. The -necessity of keeping the public in good-humor, and of -not laying open points upon which opposition can enlarge, -induces apparent economies, which sacrifice not -only economy, but the best results. This is a great -evil, as yet apparently inseparable from public enterprises -as distinguished from private ones. If any one -supposes that the ships with which Great Britain overthrew -Napoleon, and with which Nelson and his contemporaries -won their as yet unparalleled victories, were<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_372">372</a></span> -always or generally in good material condition, he is -greatly mistaken. What is different in our day, apparently, -is a tendency in ships to rely for their repairs -and material efficiency more upon dock-yards and workshops -than upon their own resources, a disposition also -to be unduly discouraged by imperfections in the motive -enginery. War will correct this or war will fail. In -maintaining efficiency while keeping the sea, quite as -much as in fighting skill, lay the supreme excellence of -officers like Nelson and Jervis. Men now ought to appreciate -better than they do what difficulties of this sort -seamen underwent a hundred years ago and how they -refused to yield to them. “The difference between myself -and the French marshals,” the Duke of Wellington -is reported to have said, “was as when a man starts on a -journey with a new harness. What if something gives -way, as in war something is sure to go wrong? Shall -you stop or go back for a workman? Not so; hitch up -the break with a bit of rope, or whatever comes handy, -and go on. That is what I did.”</p> - -<p>The succession of cause and effect which has produced -the present ship-of-war will be traced in rapid outline, -in order to leave as much room as may be for the description -of the essential feature of the ship herself as she -now exists.</p> - -<p>Two chief factors concur to a ship-of-war—motive -power and fighting power. The displacement of sails -by engines, and the progressive development of the -latter, are features of the general progress of the century. -The engines of a ship-of-war are differentiated from -those of merchant ships chiefly by the necessity of protection. -This affects their design, which must be subordinated -to the requirement of being as far as possible -below the water-line. The further great protection -now afforded is incident rather to the use and development -of armor as a part of the fighting power.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_373">373</a></span> -Fighting power divides into offensive and defensive. -Armor now represents the latter. The fighting ship -in every age is the product of the race between the two, -and in the nineteenth century this was unprecedented -in the ground covered and in the rapidity of the pace, -due to the increased power of dealing with materials, -already alluded to.</p> - -<h3>CONTEST OF ARMOR AND PROJECTILE</h3> - -<p>The modern contest began with the introduction of -horizontal shell fire in the third decade of the century. -This term must be explained. It has been said that all -ships’ guns up to 1815 threw non-explosive projectiles. -In practice this is true; although Nelson alludes to certain -shell supplied to him for trial, which he was unwilling -to use because he wished not to burn his prizes, but -to take them alive. A shell is a hollow projectile filled -with powder, the idea of which is that upon reaching the -enemy it will burst into several pieces, each capable of -killing a man, and the flame not impossibly setting -woodwork on fire. It was necessary that the powder -within should not explode from the combustion of the -cartridge of the gun, for if it did its force, combined with -the latter, might burst the gun; yet the process that -should result in bursting must begin at that moment -or else it would not take place at all. This difficulty -was met by a short column of hard, compressed powder -called the fuse, which extended from the outside to the -inside of the shell. The outer end was inflamed by the -charge of the gun, but from its density it burned slowly, -so that the charge of the shell was not enkindled for -five, ten, or more seconds. This expedient was in use -over a century ago; but owing to imperfections of manufacture, -no certainty was attained that the fuse might -not be driven in or broken by the force of the discharge, -or the shell itself be cracked and so explode prematurely.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_374">374</a></span> -Shell, therefore, were fired with very light charges; and, -to obtain sufficient range—go far enough—they were -used in very short, very thick guns, called bombs or -mortars, to which great elevation was given. Such -firing, because the shell flew high in the air, was called -vertical firing, in contradistinction to the fire of the long -gun or carronade, called horizontal fire because their -projectiles rose little above the level.</p> - -<p>The destructiveness of shell from ordinary guns was -so obvious, especially for forts to use against wooden -ships, that the difficulties were gradually overcome, -and horizontal shell fire was introduced soon after the -cessation of wars allowed men time for thought and -change. But although the idea was accepted and the -fact realized, practice changed slowly, as it tends to do -in the absence of emergency. In the attack on Vera -Cruz, in 1848, Farragut was present, and was greatly -impressed, as with a novelty, by the effect of what he -called the “shell shot,” a hybrid term which aptly expresses -the transition state of men’s minds at the time. -I remember an officer who entered the navy in 1840 -telling me the respectful awe and distrust with which -his superiors then regarded the new weapon, a very few -of which for each gun were supplied tentatively. Ten -years more, however, saw a great change, and in 1853 -the attack of the Russian squadron of wooden sailing-ships -upon the Turkish vessels in the Bay of Sinope -gave an object-lesson that aroused the naval world to -what wooden ships must expect from horizontal shell -fire. In a few minutes three out of seven Turkish frigates -were in flames; while of nine sailing-ships and two -steamers only one of the latter escaped.</p> - -<h3>HORIZONTAL SHELL FIRE</h3> - -<p>The Crimean War followed quickly, and in 1854 the -wooden steamships of the line of the allies, vessels identical<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_375">375</a></span> -in fighting characteristics with those of Trafalgar, -attempted to silence masonry works at Sebastopol. -Though the disaster was not so great, the lesson of -Sinope was reaffirmed. Louis Napoleon, a thoughtful -man though scarcely a man of action, had foreseen the -difficulty, and had already directed the construction of -five floating batteries which were to carry armor. Before -the war ended these vessels attacked the forts at -Kinburn, which they compelled to surrender, losing, -themselves, no men except by shells that entered the gun -ports. Their armor was not pierced.</p> - -<p>Horizontal shell fire had called for iron armor, and -the two, as opposing factors, were now established in -the recognition of men. The contest between the two -sums up the progression and the fluctuations of military -ideas which have resulted in the battle-ship of to-day, -which, as the fleet-ship, remains the dominant factor in -naval warfare, not only in actual fact but in present -probability. From the first feeble beginnings at Kinburn -to the present time, although the strife has waxed -greatly in degree, it remains unchanged in principle -and in kind. To exclude the shell, because, starting -as one projectile, it became many after penetration, in -what does it differ from excluding the rapid-fire gun, -whose projectiles are many from the first, and penetrate -singly?</p> - -<p>There occurred, however, one singular development, -an aberration from the normal line of advance, the chief -manifestation of which, from local and temporary conditions, -was in our own country. This was the transient -predominance of the monitor type and idea; the iron-clad -vessel, with very few very heavy guns, mounted in one -or two circular revolving turrets, protected by very -heavy armor. The monitor type embodied two ideas. -The first was the extreme of defensive power, owing to -the smallness of the target and the thickness of its armor—the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_376">376</a></span> -hull of the vessel rising but little above the water—the -turret was substantially the only target. The second -was an extreme compression of offensive power, the -turret containing two of the heaviest guns of the day, -consequently guns of the heaviest penetration, which -could fire, not in one direction, nor in several, but in all -directions as the turret revolved, and which were practically -the sole armament of the ship. The defensive -power of the monitor was absolute up to the extreme -resisting endurance of its armor. Its offensive power -must be considered relatively to the target to which its -guns were to be opposed. If much in excess of that -target’s resistance, there was waste of power. Actually -in our Civil War monitors were opposed to fortifications, -except in one or two instances when they had to contend -with the imperfect structures which the Confederates -could put afloat. The target, therefore, was not in -excess of their gun power. Moreover, being for coast -warfare, the monitor then was necessarily of small -draught and small tonnage. Her battery weight, therefore, -must be small, and consequently lent itself to concentration -into two guns, just as the battery weight of a -schooner a century since found its best disposition in -one long traversing gun.</p> - -<p>This was the infancy period of the iron-clad ship. -The race between guns and armor was barely begun, -and manufacturing processes still were crude. As -these improved, with astounding rapidity, the successful -production of rifled cannon of ever-increasing dimensions -and penetrative force imposed an increased armor -protection, which at the first was obtained chiefly by -an increase of thickness, <i>i.e.</i>, of weight. As guns and -armor got heavier, ships had to be bigger to carry them, -and, if bigger, of course longer. But the monitor idea, -admirably suited to small ships, had now fast hold of -men’s minds—in England especially, for the United<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_377">377</a></span> -States lapsed into naval somnolence after the war—and -it was carried irreflectively into vessels of huge -dimensions whose hulls rose much above the water. -Weight for weight, the power of the gun outstripped the -resistance of armor, and it soon became evident that -even in a large ship perfect protection could be given only -to a part of the structure. Passing over intermediate -steps, the extreme and final development of the monitor -idea was reached in the <i>Inflexible</i>, planned in 1876 by -the British Admiralty, built in the following years, and -still in service. This vessel was of eleven thousand -eight hundred and eighty tons displacement. She was -three hundred and twenty feet long, and of that length -only the central one hundred and ten feet had protection, -but that was by armor two feet thick, while armored -partitions extended from each end of this side belt across -the vessel, forming a box one hundred and ten feet long -by seventy-four broad. Within this box were two turrets, -each with sixteen inches of armor, and carrying two -guns which threw a shell of a ton weight.</p> - -<h3>THE COMING OF THE MONITOR</h3> - -<p>The first monitor has been called an epoch-making -ship, for she began an era. The <i>Inflexible</i> was also -epoch-making, for she closed the era of the monitor pure -and simple. Upon a development of three hundred and -twenty feet of length she carried only four guns, of which -it is not too much to say that their power was very far -in excess of almost all targets that could be opposed -to them. If, indeed, her possible opponents could have -carried such an armor as her own all over their exposed -surface, her guns would have been no heavier than -needed, and the fewness must be accepted; but this was -not the case. Like herself, ships of twelve thousand -tons must have a penetrable target far exceeding in surface<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_378">378</a></span> -the almost impregnable box she presented. The -unreasonableness of the result struck men at once, -though of course she had advocates. As an exception, -such a ship might pass; as a type, never. It was pointed -out that guns of very small power could pierce the exposed -ends about the water-line, and that, as water entered -by numerous holes, she would not only sink lower, -but for constructional reasons, not necessary here to -give, she would lose stability rapidly—become liable -to overset. If under such conditions she attempted to -turn round, the inclination vessels take in so doing would -be enough alone to cause her to capsize. Her defenders -did not deny this; but they said that the likelihood of -her exposed ends being so riddled was too slight to justify -alarm.</p> - -<p>Under artillery conditions, then, this reply was plausible, -though it soon ceased to be so. Even then, however, -it was true that a ship with only four guns that fired -very slowly, and with such an exposed surface, was -liable to serious injury from a nimble antagonist firing -many guns rapidly. The defensive weakness of the -<i>Inflexible</i> is apparent; her offensive power, great as in -the aggregate it was, was much impaired by lack of -proper development, by undue compression into very -few guns, the larger part of whose effect was wasted, -except in the rare instances when they struck a target -not often to be encountered. But this was not the only -deduction from her strength through the excess of concentration. -Very large guns fire very slowly, yet they -are as subject to inaccuracy from the motion of the ship -as is the smallest piece. Where the target is missed, it -is immaterial whether the shot weighs a ton or a pound; -and a gun that fires ten times to another’s once has ten -times the chance of hitting. It is evident, therefore, -taking the <i>Inflexible</i> as she was, that a ship of the same -weight and length with ten guns in broadside—twenty<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_379">379</a></span> -altogether—and with similar armor over her engines -only, would have at the least a fair chance against the -<i>Inflexible</i>, and would be much more efficient against -vessels with average armor. Each of her ten guns -firing once a minute, while the <i>Inflexible’s</i> cannon required -five minutes for discharge, would give over ten -shots to one.</p> - -<h3>CRITICISM OF THE <i>INFLEXIBLE</i></h3> - -<p>While the <i>Inflexible</i> was building there was born the -idea whose present maturity enforces the abandonment -of the pure monitor, except for vessels comparatively -small and for special purposes. Machine guns, the -Gatling, and the mitrailleuse were already known, -and the principle was being applied to throw projectiles -of a pound weight and over, which were automatically -loaded and fired, requiring only to be aimed. Upon -these followed the rapid-fire gun, of weight greatly exceeding -theirs, the principle of which may be said to be -that it is loaded by hand, but with ammunition so prepared -and mechanism for loading so simple and expeditious -as to permit a rate of firing heretofore unparalleled. -The highest extension of this principle is reached in the -five-inch gun, up to which size the cartridge and the projectile -make a single package called fixed ammunition, -which is placed by one motion. Together they weigh -ninety-five pounds, about as much as an average man -can handle in a seaway, the projectile itself weighing -fifty pounds. There are, it is true, six-inch rapid-fire -guns, but in them the cartridge and shell are placed -separately, and it is questionable whether such increase -of effect, through greater weight, as they give is not -gained at a loss of due rapidity.</p> - -<p>The <i>Inflexible</i> exemplified in an extreme form the -elements of offensive and defensive strength and weakness.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_380">380</a></span> -Four guns of enormous calibre and no other -battery, except pieces so light as to be useless against -the thinnest armor, an impenetrable wall, covering -a very limited area, and the remainder of the hull exposed, -to be cut to pieces by a battery of numerous light -cannon. When to the latter the rapid-fire idea was -successfully applied, multiplying their efficiency three -or fourfold, her position, as an example to be followed, -became untenable. The monitor idea, which refused -to utilize the broadside for developing fire, and aimed -chiefly at minimizing the target, evidently needed qualification -after a certain moderate limit of size was passed; -and that limit of size was when the entire weight of -battery the ship could carry sufficed only for two, or, -at the most, four guns of power great enough to pierce -heavy armor. Strictly, in the opinion of the writer, the -monitor type should not prevail beyond the size that -can bear only one turret.</p> - -<p>In the strife of guns with armor, therefore, increase -of power in guns, outstripping continually the increase -of resistance in armor, called for bigger ships to bear -the increased armor weight, till the latter could not -possibly be placed all over the ship’s body. Hence -the exposed target, upon which plays the smaller battery -of rapid-fire guns.</p> - -<p>To comprehend fundamentally the subsequent development, -we must recur to the rudimentary idea that a ship -of war possesses two chief factors, motive force and -fighting force, the latter being composed of guns mainly -and of men. Corresponding to these two chief powers -there were of old, and there are still, two vulnerable -elements, two targets, upon one or the other of which -hostile effort logically and practically must be directed. -A century ago the French, aiming at sails and spars, -sought the destruction of the motive force; the British -directed their fire upon the guns and men. In strict<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_381">381</a></span> -analogy now, the heavy guns seek the motive power, -over which the heaviest armor is concentrated; the rapid-fire -guns, searching the other portions of the ship, aim -at the guns and men there stationed.</p> - -<h3>BATTLE-SHIPS OF THIS DAY</h3> - -<p>The logical outcome of these leading ideas is realized -in the present battle-ships as follows: There are two -turrets, protected by armor, the thickest that can be given -them, considering the other weights the ship has to carry, -and of the highest resisting quality that processes of -manufacture can develop. Armor of similar character -and weight protects the sides about the engines. In -each turret are guns whose power corresponds to the -armor which protects them. Their proper aim—not, of -course, always reached—is the heavy armored part of -the enemy, chiefly the engines, the motive power. When -they strike outside of this target, as often must happen, -there is excess of blow, and consequent waste. The -turrets are separated, fore and aft, by a distance as great -as possible, to minimize the danger of a single shot or -any other local incident disabling both. The fact that -the ends of ships, being comparatively sharp, are less -waterborne and cannot support extreme weights, chiefly -limits this severance of the turrets. Between the two, -and occasionally before or abaft them, is distributed -the broadside rapid fire of the ship, which in its development -is in contradistinction to the compressed fire of -the monitor. This fire is rapid because the guns are -many and because individually they can fire fast. Thus, -the turret gun, twelve or thirteen inch in bore, fires once -in five minutes; the five-inch rapid-fire gun thrice in -one minute. The rapid-fire battery aims outside of the -heaviest armor. When it strikes that, unless it chance -to enter a gun port, its effect is lost; but as much the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_382">382</a></span> -greater part of the ship is penetrable by it, the chance -of wasting power is less than in the case of the heavier -guns. As most of a ship’s company are outside the protection -of the heaviest armor, the rapid-fire gun aims, -as did the British in the old line-of-battle ship, at the -personnel of the enemy.</p> - -<p>The reader will comprehend that in the application -of these leading ideas there is considerable variety in -detail. The two turrets may be looked upon at present -as the least variable factor; and in disposing armor all -practice agrees that the turrets and engines receive the -greatest protection. But how to distribute the total -available weight of armor gives rise to varieties of practice -which find their reflection in similar variety in the sizes -and numbers of the rapid-fire guns, to whose penetrative -force there is a corresponding thickness of armor. For -example, two battle-ships now building for the United -States navy have four thirteen-inch guns in turrets, -and in broadside fourteen five-inch, twenty six-pounder, -and six one-pounder rapid-fire guns; between the two -classes they have four eight-inch guns, also mounted -in smaller turrets, superimposed on the main turrets. -A ship since designed will have the same thirteen-inch -gun fire, but in place of the eight-inch and five-inch -will have fourteen six-inch rapid-fire guns. An expert -officer, discussing these, says: “In the former the weight -of fire per minute is two thousand and fifty pounds on -the broadside and five hundred ahead or astern, while -with the latter plan it is only one thousand seven hundred -and fifty on the broadside and five hundred ahead and -astern. But the main objection to the second plan is -that the volume of effective fire is enormously diminished -by the omission of eight-inch guns. The larger area -covered with their armor is fairly safe from the six-inch -gun at fighting ranges, whereas the eight-inch projectile -at any range, and at even a considerable angle of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_383">383</a></span> -incidence, will penetrate it.” In the judgment of the -present writer the weight of this argument depends -upon what is behind the armor the eight-inch only will -penetrate. If battery and men, it is strong, if not decisive; -if motive power only, not.</p> - -<h3>HISTORY’S TEACHING AND THE FUTURE</h3> - -<p>The object of this paper has been not to present an -accumulation of details, but to elucidate the principles -upon which the details rest. The latter, when correct, -are but the application of principles to practice. Subject -to the imperfections attendant on all human work, -the writer is persuaded that the greatest errors in practice—and -especially the lack of homogeneousness which -characterizes the present battle-ships—arise chiefly from -the failure to refer back to principles. Until war has -given us the abundant experience which led our predecessors -to the broadside seventy-four as the rule, with -occasional exceptions, we must depend upon reasoning -alone for the solution of our problems; and the reasoner -keeps within the limits of safety only by constant reference -to fundamental facts.</p> - -<p>The one experience of war which ships really contemporary -have had was in the battle of the Yalu. Its -teachings lose some value from the fact that the well-drilled -Japanese used their weapons to advantage, while -the Chinese were ill trained; still, some fair inferences -can be made. The Japanese had a great many rapid-fire -guns, with few very heavy ones, and their vessels -were not battle-ships properly so-called. The Chinese, -besides other vessels, had two battle-ships with heavy -armor and heavy guns. Victory remained with the -Japanese. In the opinion of the writer two probable -conclusions can be reached: That rapid-fire guns in -due proportion to the entire battery will beat down a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_384">384</a></span> -ship dependent mainly upon turret guns; that is, between -two ships whose batteries are alike the issue of -the contest will depend upon the one or the other gaining -first a predominance of rapid fire. That done, the turret -guns of the predominant ship will give the final blows -to the engines and turrets of the other, whose own turret -guns cannot be used with the necessary deliberation -under the preponderant storm of projectiles now turned -upon them. The other conclusion, even more certain -than the first, is that rapid-fire guns alone, while they -may determine an action, cannot make it decisive. Despite -the well-established superiority of the Japanese -rapid fire in that action, the Chinese battle-ships, though -overborne, were not taken. Their heaviest armor being -unpierced, the engines and turret guns remained effective, -and they withdrew unmolested.</p> - -<h3>BATTLE-SHIPS THAT ARE TOO LARGE</h3> - -<p>The battle-ship constituted as described remains for -the present the fighting ship upon which the issues of -war will depend. The type is accepted by all the leading -naval states, though with considerable variations -in size. As regards the latter feature, the writer believes -that the enormous tonnage recently given is excessive, -and that the reasons which support it, too numerous -and various to be enumerated at length, have -the following fundamental fault: they look too much -to the development of the individual ship and too little -to the fact that the prime requisite of the battle-ship is -facility for co-operating with other ships of its own -type—facility in manœuvring together, facility in massing, -facility also in subdividing when occasion demands. -It may be remarked, too, that the increase of -size has gone much more to increase of defensive -power than of offensive—a result so contrary to the universal -teachings of war as of itself to suggest pausing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_385">385</a></span> -Does the present hold out any probabilities of important -changes in the near future, of revolutionary -changes? No. For twenty-five or thirty years now -we have been expecting from the ram and from the torpedo -results which would displace the gun from its supremacy -of centuries. Those results, however, are not -yet visible. No one disputes the tremendous effects of -the ram and of the torpedo when successfully used; but -I believe I am correct in saying that the great preponderance -of professional opinion does not attribute to -them a certainty, or an approach to certainty, impairing -the predominance of the gun. This is not the conclusion -of mere conservation in a profession naturally -conservative. The fluctuations of professional opinion -have been sufficiently marked and the matter sufficiently -argued to dispose of that contention. Nor is this supremacy -of the gun probably a transient matter, liable -to pass away with improvements greater than those of -the last quarter of a century. The advantage of the -gun depends upon conditions probably permanent—upon -its greater range, its greater accuracy, its greater rapidity. -The individual effect of each shot may be less than -that of a torpedo or of a ram thrust; but, as was said in -comparing very heavy guns with rapid fire, the probability -of many hits prevails over the possibilities of one great -blow.</p> - -<h3>THE GUN AND THE TORPEDO</h3> - -<p>In none of these features is either of the other weapons -likely to overtake the gun. The torpedo relies mainly -upon stealth, the ram mainly upon a happy chance for -effective use. Both stealth and chance have their place -in war; stratagem and readiness, each in place, may -contribute much. But the decisive issues of war depend -upon the handling of masses with celerity and precision, -according to certain general principles of recognized<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_386">386</a></span> -universality. Afloat, such massed force, to be -wielded accurately and rapidly, must consist of units -not too numerous because of their smallness—as torpedo -craft would be—nor too unwieldy because of their -size. We may not be able to determine yet, in advance -of prolonged experience of war, just what the happy -mean may be corresponding in principle to the old seventy-four, -but we may be reasonably sure that it will -be somewhere in the ranks of the present battle-ships; -and that in the range, accuracy and rapidity of their -gun-fire—especially when acting in fleets—will be found -a protection which the small vessels that rely upon the -torpedo or ram alone will not be able to overcome, though -they may in rare instances elude.</p> - -<p>Concerning the frigates and sloops of our predecessors, -their place is now taken, and their duties will be done, -by the classes of vessel known generically as cruisers, -protected or unprotected. The protection, the defensive -element of strength, has reference mainly to the engines, -to the motive power. The battery, the offensive factor, -tends upon the whole to revert more and more to the development -of fire, to utilizing the length of the vessel by -multiplying the number of guns and diminishing their -individual size; and the tendency is increased by the -fact that, as such ships are expected to fight only vessels -of their own kind, their probable target is penetrable by -light guns. Speed is the great element in the efficiency -of cruisers, and whatever the speed in smooth water, a -great advantage inures to larger ships in heavy winds -and seas. As for “armored” cruisers, of which there -are many, they belong rather to the class of battle-ships -than of cruisers. Whatever the advantages of the particular -ships, the name suggests a regrettable confusion -of purpose, and, in practice, a still more regrettable departure -from homogeneity.</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">A. T. Mahan.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_389">389</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="LITERATURE"></a>LITERATURE</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">“Time</span> and space,” a noble philosopher has observed, -“are but hallucinations.” It may be so, and from -the point of view of the metaphysician ours may have -been merely a “so-called nineteenth century.” Certain it -is that to judge literature in blocks of centuries is to make -a convenient but illogical cross-division. The early, and -perhaps the most important, literary influences of the -century were in existence long before 1801. Thus, if we -look at whatever is now called <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">fin de siècle</i>, at violent antagonism -to tradition and convention, at discontent of -every sort with everything—with rank, wealth, morality, -law, marriage, the family—we find that this passion -was as noisy and self-complacent a hundred years ago -as it is to-day. The French Revolution was the lurid -playground of “New Women,” full of what they supposed -to be new ideas. The German drama of 1780–1800, -now best remembered by the parody called “The Rovers,” -in the <cite>Anti-Jacobin</cite>, was replete with the humorless -paradoxes and strained situations of Ibsen. The -shortest way to an understanding of the antiquity of -our “new ideas” is, in fact, a study of the Poetry of the -<cite>Anti-Jacobin</cite>.</p> - -<p>Romance, again, as far as romance depends for her effects -on desperate deeds, on the rhetoric of noble brigands, -on the phantasms of the sheeted dead shivering down -dark passages among skeletons, on clanking chains, and -on distressed damsels, was as much alive in the end of -the eighteenth century as at any age of literary history.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_390">390</a></span> -Goethe, Schiller, Bürger, Mrs. Radcliffe, all following in -the Gothic wake of honest Horace Walpole and his <cite>Castle -of Otranto</cite>, were preparing the ground for Scott and Dumas. -Once more the old “popular” elements so necessary -to literature (which, like Antæus, regains vigor -on touching mother-earth) had been wholly absent -from the poetry and prose of the last reigning Stuart -and of the first two Hanoverian kings of England. -But, about 1770–1780, literature had returned to its -archaic popular sources. Percy had made <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">volks-lieder</i> -fashionable, Fergusson and Burns had revived the -rustic muse of Scotland, and Macpherson had given -mankind a draught, though an adulterated draught, -from the cup of the sorceries of the Celtic enchantress. -In opposition to the urban self-restraint and contented -complacency of the Augustan age, Rousseau had -preached the pleasures of virtue, sentiment, and of a -“blessed state of Nature”; young Werther had gotten -him a stool to be sad upon, like Master Stephen: weeping -was the mode. Rousseau, as Mr. Pater once observed -in conversation, was “the grandmother of us all,” -and as tearful as Mrs. Gummidge in <cite>David Copperfield</cite>. -Meanwhile the “emancipation” born of science had set -in; people thought they knew all about everything; -the elder Darwin could explain the universe without a -God, quite as easily as any modern Darwinian, if not -so elaborately. He may not have been always correct -in his theories and facts, still, there they were, and they -were “emancipating.” Yet, far from being laughed out -of court by the gratifying progress of science, a more -mystical religion and a life more austere had come in -from the preaching of Wesley, who was practically the -parent of our neo-Catholicism in its varying forms. The -“Oxford Movement,” with all the strange after-symptoms -which it has left behind it, is directly descended -from Wesley. Thus romance, sentiment, freedom and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_391">391</a></span> -variety in poetic form, philanthropy, revolt against the -past, return to and reverence for the past, scientific -doubt, weariness of life, love of nature, wistful belief, -relapse on the forms of the Church, and everything else -which stamps the literature of the nineteenth century -were alive and active in the last half of the eighteenth -century. The year 1801 made no sudden break. The -nineteenth century merely went on evolving the principles, -revolutionary or reactionary, of the last half of -the eighteenth century.</p> - -<p>Thus Crabbe, the precursor of whoever, Englishman, -American, Frenchman, or Slav, has written of the sombre -tragedies of the poor, was born in 1754. Blake, -whose perfectly un-Augustan rhapsodies and mystic -lyrics were made fashionable about 1870, was born in -1757, out of due time, for his best side is Elizabethan in -quality. Burns, born in 1759, is as much at home in -the nineteenth century as Tolstoï, while Godwin could -not be more “advanced,” or Mary Wollstonecraft more -of “a New Woman,” if the former belonged to our “Forward -Liberals” and the latter perorated at congresses of -her sex. The first twenty-five years of Miss Austen belong -to the eighteenth century; yet, except for a certain -“old-fashioned” primness of style, she is the first, and, -beyond all doubt, the greatest of all nineteenth-century -“realistic” novelists of domestic life. For, though -a “realist,” she is a humorist, and the combination -is almost unexampled. Your common realist is a -gloomy thing, with no more sense of the comic than -M. Zola.</p> - -<p>Of the new poets, revolutionary in metre and matter, -Wordsworth, Scott, Coleridge, and Southey were born in -1770–1774; they were mature before the nineteenth century -dawned. His northern home, among the hills and -lakes, fitted Wordsworth to be the austere and mystical -poet of nature and of man in relation to nature. Born<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_392">392</a></span> -a poet, his genius was determined by his environment, -while his ardent sympathy with the Revolution at once -turned his attention to the unregarded poor, and inspired -his not wholly successful attempt to shake off the trammels -of Augustan “poetic diction,” the survival of the -Latinism of Boileau and Pope. Later, of course, Wordsworth -became the Tory, the patriot, the Churchman, -and the Stamp Collector. But his poetical creed he -never consciously changed, though he often lapsed -from it unconsciously. If Scott was to be a poet at all -he was fated to be influenced by the New World, not in -its emancipated ideas, but in its wistful return to the -Old World of reivers, spearmen, claymores, goblin, -ghost, and fairy. The Border ballads lulled his cradle -and were the joy of his childhood and manhood. All -tradition murmured to him her charms of Border and -Highland legend; every ruined abbey and castle had its -tale for him; to Ettrick and Yarrow he needed not to -say, like Lady John Scott, “Have you no message for -me?” He never had a touch of the Augustan horror -of mountain and torrent, never a touch of the Augustan -contempt of “Barbarism.” Walpole’s <cite>Castle of Otranto</cite> -and Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels of terror went to the molding -of his genius, as the novels of Miss Edgeworth (born -1767) suggested fiction about the lives and manners of -his own people. In his return to the past he came, like -Lamb, on the Elizabethan drama, and, unlike Lamb, -on the unpublished documents of the Tudor age, the -age of desperate resistance to England. But Scott -would never have been exactly the poet that he was if he -had not heard “Christabel” recited. “Christabel,” the -entirely original utterance of a genius which, at first, -was a child of the enlightenment of the eighteenth century. -The early ideas of Coleridge were the ideas of -Rousseau and of Bernardin de Saint Pierre, who was, -like Coleridge, but more energetically, a seeker for an<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_393">393</a></span> -ideal land where pantisocracy might flourish and a -clown might be the poet’s “brother.”</p> - -<p>In poetry, in poetic form, Coleridge was the real and -daring innovator, inspired by the eighteenth century -reaction against convention, and played on like an æolian -harp by every wind of his mystic spirit. His reaction -was too violent even for Lamb; his originality too extreme -even for Wordsworth. In him, of all our later -poets, the “unconscious self” was the strongest and -the most free, and of all our poets he had the hardest -battle with the dull Augustan survival in such critics as -Jeffrey. To them all the ripened fruit of the blossoming -time of the late eighteenth century, the poetry of Scott -and of Wordsworth, was but dimly intelligible, but Coleridge -was the most unintelligible of all. From the Germany -of the late eighteenth century came one of Scott’s -springs of poetic action; from the <cite>Lenore</cite> of Bürger -(a popular ballad rewritten) and from the <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Götz von -Berlichingen</cite> of Goethe. These were the days when -Scott longed to possess a skull and cross-bones, and in a -love-letter dilated on his choice of a sepulchre. But what -came to Coleridge from Germany was the late eighteenth -century’s reaction against the truly “common-sense” -ideas of Hume, the philosophy of Kant, Schelling, and -Fichte. In this field, too, he was unintelligible (and no -wonder), but he was but adapting the ideas of 1770–1800, -and the neo-Hegelians of Oxford are doing the same -thing. A reaction against the materialism of common-sense -was inevitable; Mesmer, Swedenborg, and Kant -began what survives in the hands of the Master of -Balliol and of Professor William James.</p> - -<p>In a more recent generation Byron prolonged the -Wertherism of Werther, Byron being thus a grandson -of Rousseau, while he borrowed his form, and borrowed -it very ill, from what Scott borrowed of Coleridge. The -genius of Byron is not contested by the sane, but except<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_394">394</a></span> -in satire it seldom found clear and adequate, because it -sought hurried, heedless, and tumultuous, expression. -Scott had a better ear and was not so reckless an <i xml:lang="it" lang="it">improvisatore</i>. -Poems that can endure are not written like -Byron’s, in the brief leisure of fashionable industry. -We admire the native impetus of Byron, his gift of satire, -his sensitiveness to elemental force in nature and in -man, but we cannot understand the furore which was so -much the child of his title, his beauty, his recklessness, -and his studiously cultivated air of mystery. Mr. -Lenville, as reported by Mr. Folair, said that Nicholas -Nickleby was “a regular stick of an actor, and it’s only -the mystery about him that has caused him to go down -with the people here, though Lenville says he don’t -believe there’s anything at all in it.” A later age must -partly adopt the same theory of Byron’s original and -unparalleled success in Europe as well as in England. -He was mysterious Manfred, he was Childe Harold, -he was the Corsair; a hero of Mrs. Radcliffe’s, with an -Oriental air and a gloomy secret and a heart burning -with indignation against the unworthy species of men. -What had Byron done? Even Goethe was curious, -believing wild anecdotes; now we really do not care what -Byron did, recognizing in him, his genius, and his pose, -not so much the “Satanic,” as the result of hysteria -and madness in his race. Satanism, from of old, has -been mainly hysteria. The element of personal <em>reclame</em> -in Byron has faded, and with it fades his reputation as -an earth-shaking poet. Attempts to revive that fame -in our day, attempts to bring us back to “the noble poet,” -are respectable, being based on loyalty to the taste of -our great-grandfathers and grandmothers in all civilized -countries. But the efforts are futile. “Byron,” says -Mr. Saintsbury, “seems to me a poet distinctly of the -second class, and not even of the best kind of second, -inasmuch as his greatness is chiefly derived from a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_395">395</a></span> -sort of parody, a sort of imitation of the qualities of the -first. His verse is to the greatest poetry what melodrama -is to tragedy, what plaster is to marble, what -pinchbeck is to gold.” Such, however unpopular they -may be, are my own candid sentiments, for though -from childhood I could and did read all our great poets -with pleasure, it was not with the kind of pleasure which -Byron in his satire and his declamation could occasionally -give me. He is monotonous, he is rhetorical, his -versification is often incredibly bad, and he is more -obscure, mainly by dint of hurry, bad printing, and bad -grammar, than Mr. Browning. Thus Byron leaves -us impressed as with a vast, even volcanic, yet dandified -force, untrained and often misdirected. Either -by nature, or in reaction, he professed sympathy with -the Augustan school of Queen Anne’s reign, and sided -with Pope in the long quarrel as to whether Pope is a -poet.</p> - -<p>Even the modern opponents of Byron must recognize -in him qualities which won the admiration and affection -of Scott and Shelley. In Shelley we had a true child -of the revolution, the <i xml:lang="de" lang="de">Aufklarung</i>, and the later eighteenth -century. His boyhood trifled with chemical science -(probably not then popular with the human boy); his -adolescence was given to converting school-girls into -“dear little atheists.” His social ideas, like those of -some advanced moderns, aimed at the absolute destruction -of the family; and the moral of <cite>Laon and Cythna</cite> -went far behind the morals of the most backward -savages, who make incest a capital offence. Shelley, -a boy all his life, was more boyishly devoted to destruction -than even the newest writers on the relations of -the sexes. In “making all things new” both he and -they are, in fact, relapsing on a condition of society -which, if it ever existed, is so old that it may be called -“pre-human,” and is contrary to nature, as far as we<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_396">396</a></span> -can study human nature in the least developed of tribes. -His ideas conducted Shelley to the tragedy and farce -of his career: his desertion of one young wife, followed -by her suicide, and his marriage with another, in entire -opposition to his own opinions. In literature he began -at school with a devout following of Mrs. Radcliffe; -while, in <cite>Queen Mab</cite> and <cite>Alastor</cite>, vigorous but vague -and misty <cite>Childe Harold</cite>, wandering in No Man’s -Land, he first displayed his originality in poetical -form. His personal character being noble and generous -in the highest degree, his sympathy with the poor and -the oppressed being a true passion, Shelley’s errors -arose from the fixed idea that almost every human ordinance -must, being old, be necessarily bad. He would -recognize that there is, after all, something right in the -sixth commandment, but did not draw the inference -that a gleam of reason might also be found in most of the -rest of the Decalogue. The state of society then, as -always, provoked revolt, but the state of society was -grievous, not because its moral laws were bad, but because -its laws were not obeyed. Shelley had no turn for narrative, -and, in such poems as <cite>The Revolt of Islam</cite>, -it is the splendid meteoric genius, the unexcelled music -that captivate. In lyrics he was probably the most -original force since the Elizabethan age: his verse is a -singing and soaring flame. In <cite>Adonis</cite> his righteous -indignation carries him forward like an angel with a -sword of fire; and <cite>The Witch of Atlas</cite> is a triumph -in a new “fairy way of writing.” His is the Muse of -clouds and stars, of sea and tempest, of all the aspects, -and, in appearance, most capricious forces of the world, -yet his is also the Muse of flowers and peaceful woods, -of dejection and of delight. What the born rebel, Milton, -might have been without the foundation and trammels -of Puritanism, that Shelley was, though his wild and -tender lyric note was even more exquisite than Milton’s.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_397">397</a></span> -Neither was, in the full sense, human, for both were -without humor, as may be seen in their humorous pieces.</p> - -<p>Keats, but three years younger than Shelley (1795), -was more a true child of the nineteenth century. His -social ideas, though of course liberal, were more in -abeyance; he was more exclusively an artist; and his -art was more controlled by the revived Elizabethanism -of Leigh Hunt (1784). That singular man, who had -so much taste, and so much of it bad; so intense a theory -of social benevolence, and so keen a belief that it was -more blessed to receive than to give, “owed little” (in -the way of literature) “to any but the old masters, and -many contemporaries owed not a little to him.” Few -owed more, for good and bad, than Keats. Virgil he had -found out for himself, and had translated when a schoolboy. -Spenser, too, he found for himself, and Greece -he discovered afresh in Lemprière’s <cite>Dictionary</cite> and in -Chapman’s <cite>Homer</cite>. But this superficial euphuism and -elaborate verbal quaintness he partly derived at second -hand from Leigh Hunt.</p> - -<p>That something in Leigh Hunt which suggested -Harold Skimpole to Dickens, and his violent conception -of <cite>The Cockney School</cite> to Lockhart, was not hidden -from Keats, and inspired him with some bitter words. -It was what he derived from Hunt that gave occasion -to Keats’s assailants, who were more of political than of -literary partisans. Lockhart, or Wilson, or both, with -the <cite>Quarterly</cite> reviewer, in attacking <cite>Endymion</cite> were -attacking, they thought, a member of an affected, effeminate, -and radical coterie. Keats himself, maturing -with the suddenness of genius, looked on <cite>Endymion</cite> as -thoroughly immature. But killed, or even discouraged, -by his critics he was not, and on a page of a copy -of <cite>Lamia</cite> where his publishers spoke of his discouragment -he wrote “This is a lie.” (The copy is in the possession -of Canon Ainger.) Keats, like Burns, whom he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_398">398</a></span> -so intensely admired and so unerringly judged as a man -and a poet, was his own best critic. Despite his boyish -lusciousness of taste, and the fever of letters written when -dying, there was no manlier or more chivalrous soul in -England than that of the poet of the odes to the nightingale -and to autumn. Keats at his best attained sheer -perfection of language, of emotion, and of thought. As -he advised Shelley to be, he was not content with less -than filling all the rifts with pure gold. “Untaught,” -like the minstrel of Odysseus, he combined a Greek clarity -and largeness of manner with that romance which Greece -does not lack, but which he possessed in a degree more -conspicuous, at least to readers who are not Greeks. -Though he has not been and cannot be imitated, he has -supplied to Tennyson and the best moderns a standard -and an ideal. That the Shakespearian copiousness of humanity -and humor and dramatic genius would ever have -been his nothing indicates, but what writer of the nineteenth -century, except Scott, has possessed a large share -of these qualities? In poetry, not one, and it was in prose -that Scott wore his fragment of the cloak of Shakespeare. -For the century has not produced, in England or America, -a great dramatic poet. It is to fiction, to Scott, Dickens, -Thackeray, Stevenson, Meredith, Hawthorne, George -Eliot, that we must look for the humor and humanity -and passion which, earlier, found their vehicle in the -drama.</p> - -<p>Ours is a reading rather than a seeing century, though -this does not explain the reason which made the great -novelists incapable of writing for the stage. Of the -other poets of the early century, Campbell, Rogers, Moore, -Landor, Hogg, and the ladies, Mrs. Hemans, and L. E. L., -and Beddoes, space does not permit us to treat. Landor’s -audience has not increased; Rogers has none; Campbell -is best remembered for war songs which I fear are overrated; -Hogg, despite some exquisite passages in <cite>Kilmeny</cite>,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_399">399</a></span> -and some admirable songs, suffers from his -countrymen’s exclusive devotion to Robbie Burns. -When Scott turned to fiction (1814) the current of popular -taste at once changed into that channel. Byron had -still his vogue; Keats, Shelley, and Coleridge then sang -only to the few initiated; Wordsworth was past his prime; -and with the general public nothing was really popular -but fiction, and that fiction was Scott’s. Miss Austen -is probably much more widely appreciated to-day than -when she died, little noted by the world, in 1817. A -criticism of Scott’s novels, which first made fiction supreme -and far above poetry in the estimation of “the -reading public,” cannot be attempted in this place. -The best estimate of Scott, if far from most favorable, -is his own, in the introduction to <cite>The Fortunes of Nigel</cite>. -His faults of prolixity, haste, indifference to delicacy of -style, and even to grammar; his “big bow-wow” vein -(as he calls it); the stilted theatrical language of his -Catherine Glovers and Helen Macgregors—all these -defects, with his hasty denouéments (as of Shakespeare -and Molière), are patent, are confessed, and probably -deter many readers from making profit of his humor, -his rich knowledge of and sympathy with all human -nature, his infrequent but exquisite touches of passion, -his tragedy and comedy. None the less, Scott is the -main stock of the fiction of the century. Men may -now have more minute knowledge, though so wide a -knowledge has none; may have more wit, if less humor; -may eagerly hunt for all that Scott loathed and avoided -in our animal nature; may, indeed must, practise a more -careful style, but all the novelists are, willy-nilly, children -of Scott and Miss Austen. Dickens, indeed, owed more -to Smollett (one of Scott’s chief favorites), Thackeray -owed more to Fielding, the “Kailyard School” owed -more to Galt (1779—1839). But Scott is “the father of -the rest,” above all, of Dumas; and Miss Austen is the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_400">400</a></span> -mother. Lord Lytton and Mr. Disraeli had, especially -at first, a tinge of Byronism, later developing on their -own lines: Mr. Disraeli’s political; Lord Lytton’s multifarious, -including the line of modern mysticism, now -often worked. Scott lived to be interested in Lytton, -and might have seen (though probably he did not see -them) the little-noted beginnings of Browning and Tennyson, -about 1830.</p> - -<p>What he did see, and admire, was the performance of -Cooper, with whom actual and living American fiction -may perhaps be said to take its rise. In England, Cooper -was regarded as the Scott of America; and it is to -be regretted that Lockhart did not excise a splenetic -personal reference to Cooper in Sir Walter’s <cite>Journal</cite>. -He was old, tired, and fatigued with the pressure of -society in Paris when he wrote. Cooper had the genius -to appropriate the unworked fields of American patriotic -seafaring life, and of the manners of the Red Man; -he is “Cooper of the wood and wave.” Eagerly were -his works read by boys, when Thackeray was a boy, -and when I was a boy. Never shall his readers forget -the “Long Carabine,” to whom Thackeray was devoted, -and Uncas, and Chingachgook.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Still we love the Delaware,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still we hate the Mingos.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Doubtless Cooper’s Indians are not “realistically” -treated, though there is infinitely more of truth in his -dignified hunters and warriors than people conversant -only with the Red Man of to-day are ready to believe. -But Cooper, probably, does not live with the immortality -of his first renowned successor, Hawthorne, who, for -secure perfection of form, is to modern fiction what Keats -is to modern poetry. Like Scott, Hawthorne is the unforced -fruit of his ancestry and the society into which -he was born—a Puritan, not a Cavalier artist, with a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_401">401</a></span> -background of austere faith and of old superstition, -differentiated from that of the Covenanters by the shadow -of deep forests and of struggles with the Indians and the -wild things of the woods. These had passed into mellow -memories, as, for Scott, had passed the age of witches, -fairies, reivers, and claymores. Entirely, in the <cite>Scarlet -Letter</cite>, as by way of hereditary influence in the <cite>House -of Seven Gables</cite>, Hawthorne reproduced what was old, -making it poetically enduring. <cite>His Mosses from an -Old Manse</cite>, and other brief tales set the fashion, except -by Poe, long unfollowed, of the <em>conte</em>. Neither author -has been excelled in his own portion of this field. Hawthorne’s -haunted consciences, Poe’s treasure tale, his -detective stories, and his tales of terror remain unequalled, -though so profusely imitated. This epoch, say from -1830 to 1855, was a kind of classical interspace in the -literature of the century. France, preoccupied by war -in the first thirty years of the age, now awoke to her own -famous romantic era, with Hugo, Dumas, Musset, -Gautier, George Sand, Sainte-Beuve, Mérimée—names -of the highest. Germany, to the non-Teutonic world, -is, in poetry, represented by Heine, and, in science, -philosophy, philology, and history by a galaxy of innovators -ingenious and industrious. America saw -Hawthorne, Poe, Lowell, Holmes, Whittier, Ticknor, -Prescott, Motley, Longfellow, Bryant, Emerson, in their -prime; while England had Carlyle, Tennyson, Newman, -Browning, the Brontës, Kingsley, Thackeray, Dickens, -and Ruskin, all recognized and flourishing.</p> - -<p>We look around and see, as Mr. Stevenson says in a -letter, that “the suns have set,” while we are scarcely -conscious of new dawns. Who can explain, by circumstances -of social evolution and historical event, the rising -and the setting of such constellations of genius? It is -not enough to speak of the democratic demand, naturally -indifferent to style, for never was style the object of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_402">402</a></span> -such anxious research, except in other ages of euphuism. -Encouragement is even overabundant; “masterpieces” -are announced every week, and forgotten every year. -It may be the prejudice of hoary eld, but I must confess -that our new literature does not seem to me to show such -promise of permanence as the literature of 1830–1860 -gave, and, so far, has fulfilled. Has fulfilled in spite -of our sneers at the “early Victorian,” which was not -socialistic, or evolutionist and Darwin-ridden, and was -“respectable,” and did avert its eyes from all that most -people in real life don’t care to stare at. This “prudery” -was no new thing. The Greeks, in except some late -decadents and in the old comedy, have a “prudish” -literature. The Latin classics are not in the taste of M. -Zola. The age of Chaucer, the age of Elizabeth, were -grossly frank, that of the Restoration was frankly lewd, -but we have sought out many inventions over which -Sedley and Rochester would not have cared to linger. -Their grossness was gay; ours is morbidly squalid. Such -things are absent from the work of Hawthorne and -Holmes, Longfellow, Dickens, Thackeray, and the rest. -Such things we now treat of, greatly daring, and somehow -our elders appear apt to outlaugh and outlive us -as humorists, novelists, and poets. It is strange.</p> - -<p>Into the merits of that remarkable middle age of the -century we cannot enter in much detail. Tennyson -holds unimperilled the throne of the poet of the time. -That his thought is not especially penetrating, whether -he deals with the intricacies of human character, or with -the problems of the universe, may be readily admitted. -But I am unaware that any poet has yet “got the absolute -into a corner,” or solved the problems of the universe. -Tennyson, more than people suppose, was, personally, -a mystic, with his own mystic experiences; and -his philosophy was influenced by them. He “followed -the Gleam.” Neither in the <cite>Idylls of the King</cite> nor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_403">403</a></span> -in plays, was dramatic rendering of character his forte. -His forte was charm, and music, and the interpretation -of nature. In these he is the equal of the Mantuan, is -the Virgil of the modern world, “golden branch among -the shadows.” Moreover, he has infinite variety: from -<cite>Mariana</cite> to <cite>Fatima</cite> and <cite>Rizpah</cite>; from the <cite>Lotos-Eaters</cite>, -which “adds a new charm” after the <cite>Faërie Queene</cite>, -to the <cite>Northern Farmer</cite>, from <cite>Ulysses</cite> to <cite>Crossing the -Bar</cite>. The early <cite xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Morte d’Arthur</cite> is of unsurpassed -nobility and magic; the last poem, <cite>Crossing the Bar</cite>, -is no less pre-eminent in these qualities. Tennyson, in -short, had genius; new, as all genius is new, and no -occasional defects of taste or temper can impair the -splendor and richness of his gift to the world, nor the -immortality of his fame.</p> - -<p>His contemporary, Browning, had the misfortune to -attract, by his faults, the people who wish to believe -themselves clever, because they labor at appreciating -passages which the poet had made obscure. Darkness -is not depth, nor is obscurity a merit. From his letters -it is plain that Mr. Browning had not the gift of lucid -expression; from his poems it is manifest that he had -not, in a high degree, the gift of verbal music and of -charms. His gift of the grotesque, very real and original, -was also his snare. In <cite>Christmas Eve</cite> and <cite>Easter -Day</cite>, with <cite>Men and Women</cite>, we have the true essence -of Browning at his best; we have his dramatic lyrics, -with their amazing abundance of character and variety -of measure. After the first fascinating volume <cite>The -Ring and the Book</cite> became monotonous. One song in -<cite>Paracelsus</cite>, to myself, seems worth all the dissection -of character in the blank verse. There are many who -find a kind of spiritual help in such pieces as <cite>Prospice</cite>. -There are thousands who find in <cite>Men and Women</cite> -a sort of intellectual enjoyment (or entertainment) -which they can derive from no other poet who ever lived.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_404">404</a></span> -An energy, life, and sympathy, breaking forth in fresh, -unheard-of ways; vocal in strange, piercing, untried -measures: these are the imperishable qualities of Browning. -Look at his rendering of the Agamemnon: such -is his version of life. The poetry of Æschylus is not -there: “<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">carmina desunt</i>”; but there is a new, odd, unexpected -rendering of the tragedy. So poignant and -broken, sad, glad, grotesque, and pitiful, was Browning’s -rendering of life. He was “ever a fighter”: no -poet is more exempt from whining and despair. Destiny -linked him with Mrs. Browning, whose genius, -sincere and original, is apt to be obscured by palpable -faults of manner, emotion, and even rhyme, on which it -is superfluous to dwell. Her merits, and some of her -defects, made Mrs. Browning the most popular of women -poets in England, except, perhaps, Miss Ingelow. Both, -in the crowd of accomplished versifiers, appear as true -poets, though both, no doubt, fail to reach the place of -Miss Christina Rossetti, who never can be popular.</p> - -<p>The matter of popularity is full of puzzles and paradoxes. -Tennyson was popular, yet great because he -is popular. There was a moment when popularity -without permanence might have been expected for -Longfellow. The excellence of his moral intentions -was then more obvious than the poetry. Such early -pieces as <cite>Excelsior</cite> and <cite>The Psalm of Life</cite> yield odd -results on analysis. But not much better can be said -for the <cite>Queen of the May</cite>, and for parts of <cite>The Miller’s -Daughter</cite>. In these is a marvellous dexterity in sinking. -But sink, and remain sunk, was as little characteristic -of Longfellow as of Tennyson. He was a true -poet, in his lyrics, even in his translations, as well as in -<cite>Evangeline</cite>, and that excellent experiment <cite>Hiawatha</cite>, -where the measure of the Finnish popular poems is -applied to the not dissimilar legends of another woodland -race. But Longfellow lacked that undefinable<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_405">405</a></span> -quality of the rare, the strange, the hitherto unheard -yet delightful note which now and again is heard in the -verse of Edgar Poe. He was an Ishmaelite in literature, -his hand against every man’s hand, and hence seems to -be less admired where he was personally known than -in France and England. It is not the famous <cite>Raven</cite>, -but such pieces as <cite>To Helen</cite>, <cite>the Sleeper</cite>, and at most -a dozen others which give Poe his high place in the judgment -of his admirers. Not his ideas, but the beauty of -his haunting lines, confers on him the laurel. Of Bryant, -as a rule, and of Whittier almost always, the reverse is -the truth. The acceptability of their ideas, the refined -simplicity, not the natural magic, of their form, are their -claims to renown. Except in a few places, as in such -as his <cite>Commemoration Ode</cite>, Mr. Lowell is better remembered -for the wit and vigor of his Biglow poems than -for his serious verse, at least in England; while Emerson’s -prose has precedence here over his poetry. The -wisdom of the East and West, blended with his happy, -courageous temper, made Emerson a corrective Carlyle, -while Thoreau is the complement of Emerson.</p> - -<p>Concerning the great Victorian novelists, Thackeray -and Dickens, so much is daily written that remark is -superfluous. A master of observation of all that had -rarely been observed, a generous heart, an original and -abundant humorist, the greatest source of mirth in our -century, Dickens appears to wear less well than his rival. -The unapproached merits of Thackeray’s style must -preserve him in literature; his pathos is rare and unforced; -his form of humor is as permanent as that of -Fielding, and as successfully matched by his phrasing. -Even his verse, mirthful or melancholy, does not fade, -and has its own place on the borderland of poetry. George -Eliot’s fame, too, must revive the success of her earlier -and more humorous novels, before she became too fond of -the Spencerian philosophy, and took herself too seriously,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_406">406</a></span> -a natural result of adulation. Charlotte Brontë, in the -same way, has been, as it were, rediscovered amid a -chorus of fresh applauses, and with perhaps rather too -curious investigations. In America, after Hawthorne, -Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes and Mrs. Beecher Stowe were -the novelists most generally admired in England, when -Thackeray and Dickens were verging to their decline. -It is, indeed, to be regretted that Dr. Holmes did not -write more fiction when in his prime. His excellent and -original <cite>Elsie Venner</cite>, and <cite>Guardian Angel</cite>, with their -humorous pictures of real life and their thread of phantasy, -half mystical, half scientific, border (as often in the -<cite>Poet</cite> and <cite>Professor at the Breakfast Table</cite>) on the ground -of “psychical research.” Dr. Holmes was not merely, -in verse and prose, an exquisite wit, but a man of rare -knowledge, a man of science, and a sturdy defender of -the purity of the language. Mrs. Beecher Stowe, on -the other hand, took the world by storm with a vivid -tract in the form of fiction; a book now not easy to -criticise, but which can still move to laughter and tears. -It is my “insular ignorance” which prevents me from -appreciating other American fictions of that age, before -the days of writers still happily living and working: -Mark Twain, Bret Harte, W. D. Howells, Henry James, -and scores of others, who, being here to speak for themselves, -shall not be commented upon in this place. With -Mr. Howells, as a critic, I have tried to break lances, -while ready to admit one of his main contentions, that -the art of Scott, Thackeray, Dickens, and others of our -fathers would have profited much by being a finer art, -by condensation, by omission, by avoidance of the -superfluous. But that our modern fiction is a greater -art, that romance and story-telling and adventure are -obsolete, or ought to be obsolete, that I can never admit -while human nature is human nature. Mankind will -never be content, in fiction, with tales of the psychology<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_407">407</a></span> -of the ordinary person; ordinary as we are, we desire to -be, like Homer’s Heracles, conversant with great adventures. -Mr. Howells perhaps may think Aristotle a -Greek snob when he maintains that tragedy must find -its theme in the sorrows of the god-descended kings. -Are not the griefs of the poor or of the middle classes as -poignant? They are; but they do not involve such -heights and depths of fortune, raising or wrecking whole -states, as do the woes “of Thebes, or Atreus’s line.” -The fall of Prince Charles from an hour even of shadowy -royalty, from the leadership of an army, from the wondering -admiration of Europe and the applause of Voltaire -into the subject and dependent sot is an example of -modern historical tragedy; in its elevation and its decline -more apt to move “pity and terror” than the circumstance -that a journalist has taken to drink.</p> - -<p>As in the case of America, so in that of England, I -cannot enter into the merits of living novelists in so -wide a task as the brief review of a century. Mr. -Meredith, as a veteran of the 60’s, has shown, perhaps, -fully what is the nature of his achievement; he -shines as a creator of character (the highest praise) -and as a writer with a thoroughly original view of the -world, as a poet and as a wit. That his manner is entirely -fortunate, and not rather tinged with wilful eccentricities -like those of Browning and Carlyle, can -scarcely be disputed. An accomplished young novelist -has admitted to me that his manner is “catching,” -and that he has to struggle against half-conscious efforts -at imitation. Others do not struggle; and most grow -older before they are able to write like themselves, with -their own voices. Even Mr. Stevenson was caught now -and then, his own voice being original indeed, but yet -full of memories of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, -and even of the Cameronian writers. To my -mind Mr. Stevenson was the greatest, or, at least, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_408">408</a></span> -most enjoyable, of our novelists since George Eliot, -excelling in matter and form, though probably always -prevented by thwarting circumstances from doing himself -complete justice. He practically revived in England -the novel historical, now so abundantly practised, and -practised with spirit, by Mr. Stanley Weyman, Mr. -Anthony Hope, Dr. Conan Doyle, Mr. A. E. W. Mason, -and a regiment of followers. The novel scientific, as in -the hands of Mr. Wells, and the novel of adventure, “beyond -the bounds of known romanticism,” as in Mr. -Rider Haggard’s works, with the detective novel and the -Oriental and imperialistic romances of Mr. Kipling, -prove that man will not be satisfied with domestic realism -alone. I never thought he would! Mr. Kipling’s -astonishing powers of vision, his habit of ruthlessly cutting -the superfluous, and his amazing command of technicalities, -help to account for his world-wide fame. But -the greatest of these is vision, not an acquired result of -thought, but a gift of Heaven. The age has also produced -a wealth of novels with a purpose. Would that -the authors could be induced to state their purposes -squarely, in undecorative treatises! But I confess that -the treatises would not be read. The specialism of -modern science has also invaded fiction, and some authors -find a county or a parish wide enough for the work -of a lifetime. The district has its dialect, and who can -reprove it when spoken by the creatures of Mr. Barrie -and Mr. Crockett? This kind of fiction is the result of -our desire to learn (through novels) about the lives of -all sorts and conditions of men. <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">Enfin</i>, the whole scope -of mortal existence is now the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">farrage libelli</i> of the novelists -who range from prehistoric man to Bethnal Green; -from Thrums to Central Africa. There is not the same -eagerness to read history, which James II. regarded as -“more instructive, and quite as amusing.” My heart -is here with King James, and I confess to gaining more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_409">409</a></span> -entertainment from Carlyle’s <cite>Frederick the Great</cite> than -from most novels.</p> - -<p>The earlier historians, from Scott to Carlyle, Macaulay -and Froude, placed the human interest in the front -rank. They conceived that history had to do with human -beings of passions, caprices, moods, loves, and hates, -dwelling in a world of interesting costumes, arms, architecture, -ideas, and beliefs. Thus Carlyle, with much -research, created his Cromwell or his Frederick, as Scott -created his Queen Mary, his Louis XI., his James VI., -or his Cromwell in <cite>Woodstock</cite>, who is not too remote -from Carlyle’s. For these reasons Scott, Froude, Carlyle, -and Macaulay really are “amusing” as well as instructive -historians. When institutions and constitutions -had to be described they were placed in separate -compartments, as in the works of Hallam and Bishop -Stubbs. Historians studied manuscripts, of course, but -it was not held that only the unprinted was the valuable, -that a new survey of known matter was absolutely -valueless.</p> - -<p>In the end of the century we have history which is not -“as interesting as a novel” (like that of Prescott, Motley, -Froude, and Macaulay), but very far from gay. Novelty -of research is, quite justly, insisted upon (though -research is as old as Hemingburgh, and was much advanced -by Gibbon, Carter, Rymer, Walpole, Tytler, -and so on) till, by a natural error, every scrap won from -a wilderness of charters is valued beyond its deserts. -The human interest is frowned upon; movements of -forces, political and social, are treated in preference to -personal character and adventure. Meticulous accuracy -is insisted upon, till nervous students are actually -afraid to publish. Even Mommsen, greatest of original -students, is regarded as frivolous, even Curtius as “popular” -by the modern school. It is natural to man to -run into these excesses of reaction. Froude is not often<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_410">410</a></span> -accurate, Macaulay has prejudices, even Mr. Freeman -was not sound about Knights’ Fees and about a certain -palisade. Now the public does not care about Knights’ -Fees or about the Manor, much; nor even about the -obscure early history of civic institutions. In fact, -even references to authorities frighten away part of the -public, whose timidity I do not applaud. The results of -our frivolity and of the portentous gravity of some modern -historians is that, since Mr. Green, scarcely any -writer of history is read except for examinations. As -long as historians declare (often with perfect truth) that -their own works are not literature, but something far -more awful and solemn, namely science, history must -be unpopular. But we are only waiting for a man of -genius as accurate as the most meticulous, and as interesting -as the agreeably irresponsible Froude. Of -science I am not to treat, so I am dispensed from remarks -on our scientific modern historians. It is certain that in -collecting and printing and calendaring documents the -age in all countries has shown praiseworthy industry, -while Mr. Parkman in America, like our mid-century -historians, was not too scientific to be readable.</p> - -<p>Of theology, except when recommended by the art of a -Newman or a Jowett, nothing is here to be said; though -I could cheerfully say a good deal, especially about -Biblical criticism. But that is science, though scarcely -the sort of science which has been defined as “organized -common-sense.” The poetry of the late century in -England boasts the names of Rossetti, William Morris, -Matthew Arnold, and Mr. Swinburne. It is tinged, in -the former with mediævalism derived from the Italians -and Chaucer; while in Mr. Swinburne every conceivable -literary influence, from the Greeks to Baudelaire, from -the Elizabethans to Victor Hugo, makes itself abundantly -conspicuous. These poets, younger than Matthew -Arnold, are not much influenced by Wordsworth,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_411">411</a></span> -though by Shelley Mr. Swinburne was influenced. On -the other hand, Mr. Arnold was a modern, academic, -heterodox Wordsworth, and often a truly delightful -poet.</p> - -<p>He stood much aloof from the contemporary literature -of his day, and his letters prove that he was no fervent -admirer even of Tennyson or Browning. His own -poetry has been to many, as to myself, full of delightful -passages, whether he wrote of the Oxford country-side, -or of Wordsworth’s hills, of “the shorn and parcelled -Oxus,” or of the moaning sea that Sophocles long ago -heard as he heard it on Dover beach. He was our greatest -modern elegiac poet; a master of the Dirge. Of the -living, again, no criticism can be offered; we only note -the names, and real if very various merits, of Mr. Robert -Bridges, Mr. Watson, Mr. Davidson, Mr. Dobson, Mr. -Benson, Mr. Thompson, Mr. Henley, Mr. Gosse, Mr. -Stephen Philips, Mrs. Marriott Watson, Mrs. Maynell, -Mr. Kipling, “a nest of singing birds.” It would be -impertinent, and indeed perilous, to “draw invidious -distinctions,” as the undergraduate said about the major -and minor prophets: nor is it for this century to -sift the poetic sheep from the goats, who, in an age that -reads little poetry, are greatly guilty of much verse.</p> - -<p>The unassuming and decried art of criticism remains. -Essays are of no one age; there are similar excellences -in every good essayist since Montaigne. We have no -Hazlitt, Lamb, or Leigh Hunt, but we had Mr. Stephenson -and Mr. Pater, so unlike in all but conscious interest -in style, and reminiscence of the best models. Indeed, -essay writing is almost an unpractised art, as the public -“has no use for it,” any more than for the letter H on -the Sandwich boards. A fairly bad novelist can live; -to an appallingly bad novelist the workhouse unfolds its -awful valves. In literary criticism Mr. Arnold stood -alone in his age, and Mr. Arnold’s literary income, it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_412">412</a></span> -is known, surprised, when stated, the Commissioners -of Income Tax: not by its affluence. Of living critics -it would be in the highest degree dangerous to say a -word, though many words, both of praise and dispraise, -might be said of a person of reckless character. That -(with obvious exceptions) most critics are men intimately -familiar with what is best, from Homer to Mr. Stephen -Philips, few students would venture to aver. That we -(for am I not the least of all critics, and not worthy to be -called a critic?) are entirely devoid of ignorance, personal -bias, likes, dislikes, prejudices, pet aversions, indolence, -we are not so blindly conceited as to maintain. We -have been taught by many centuries of creative geniuses, -from Theocritus to the latest protesting popular novelists, -to know our proper place, and we take refuge in “confession -and avoidance.” The new century will not -know our names when we pass where Dennis and where -Cibber are, unless Mr. Robert Buchanan writes a new -<cite>Dunciad</cite>.</p> - -<p>The century, even if we are in full decadence (of which -we are not the best judges), has been glorious in literature, -and holds its own well with any in modern history. -English itself has passed from the occasionally stilted -Augustan survival, through the novelties of Macaulay, -De Quincey, and Carlyle, and the early decorated of Mr. -Ruskin, into slipshod slang in one extreme, and euphuism -in the other. But the main stream keeps its course, -and English may be written with perfect purity, and with -new fluency and variety, by the men for whom the task -is reserved by fate. But what does the century bequeath -by way of intellectual motive? Little but the more or -less transformed forces of the eighteenth century. There -is science, but science, happily, is beginning to be aware -that she is not really omniscient. Conceivably her -foot is on the border of a new region, often surmised, -never explored, full of light on the problems of spirit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_413">413</a></span> -and matter. Hence, indeed, might come a new force -in letters. Again, the social ideas of 1750–1800 may -take practical shapes of incalculable momentousness, -but these would not for long be favorable to literature. -Or, less probably, the return on the past may assume -practical shape, though this element of the later eighteenth -century may seem, as far as letters go, to be exhausted. -In brief, as I began by saying, the division of literary -periods by measures of time is a cross-division. This -peculiarity the last hundred years possess: that literature -now blossoms on a far wider field. English-speaking -America had, indeed, a literature long before the -War of Independence; but it was not a literature for -every reader of to-day. Now, and for long, the States -have taken their own part in history, fiction, poetry, and -all other branches of letters. Germany came back into -world literature again just at the ending of the eighteenth -century, after unregarded ages of neglect. Russia and -the Scandinavian North awoke about the same time, -and daily widen their influence, as does Belgium in the -sunshine of Maeterlinck. France, of course, has in -all time been in the foremost rank; while to balance -America, Russia, and the North, Italy and Spain have -scarcely held the place which through so many centuries -was their own. Such changes in national literatures -resemble the political waxings and wanings of -national fortunes. The English-speaking peoples may -have their eclipse; perhaps it is heralded by a modern -comparative deficiency in humor which, if England and -America cease to laugh, will die out of a profoundly -solemn world.</p> - -<p>In the foregoing remarks little has been said about -the literature of the century except among English-speaking -peoples. Not being a Mezzofanti, I am not -personally acquainted with the literature of all languages, -and it is a vain thing to speak of books at second hand.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_414">414</a></span> -It was not the nineteenth but the eighteenth century -that saw Germany re-enter the field of pure literature, -as distinguished from that of scholarship and science. -Since the end of the Middle Ages, with their poets, -German writers had mainly been devoted to theology -and classical criticism. Latin was the language of the -learned. Many ascertainable causes, in the middle and -end of the eighteenth century, and doubtless many -causes which cannot be ascertained, awoke again the -Teutonic genius. The victories of Frederick the Great -gave Germans patriotism and confidence in their own -tongue.</p> - -<p>The philosophic and social works which preluded to -the French Revolution stirred the German mind and -required popular expression. Thus Kant wrote in his -own native speech in reaction against the sceptical -philosophy of David Hume, and Kant became the father -of the long array of German metaphysicians from Hegel -and Fichte to Schopenhauer and Hartmann. Their philosophy -“cannot be briefly stated, especially in French,” -as one of them said, but its general effect has been rather -to counteract materialism by making it pretty plain -that human nature is not so simple and easily to be explained -as the Scottish philosophers were apt to suppose. -In England, Coleridge gave an Anglican heart -to the new German philosophy, which also influenced -Hamilton, and still affects the philosophical teaching of -Oxford. “It is nonsense, but is it <em>the right sort</em> of nonsense?” -asked the late Professor Sidgwick (a Cambridge -man) when struggling with the examination papers of a -Hegelian undergraduate.</p> - -<p>More important as literature were the double influences -of return on the mediæval past and of inspiration -by the new political and social ideas which gave the -impulse to the genius of Goethe, Schiller, Bürger, and -others. Goethe began as the child of Rousseau, but as a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_415">415</a></span> -child who had read Kant, and drunk deep of the romance -of the Middle Ages. Doubtless his is the greatest name -of modern Germany, both as a student of life, of nature, -of history, and of thought. He was the spiritual parent -of Scott, with his <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Götz von Berlichingen</cite>, and, with Richter, -of Carlyle. Through himself and his English or -Scottish disciples, Goethe has been the most fertile source -of change in the literature of the nineteenth century. -In extreme old age, curious to say, he gave the first impulse -to the study of early religion as displayed in the -obscure rites and beliefs of the Australian natives: a -theme remote enough from his effect on the poetry of -Matthew Arnold. Probably the two parts of his <cite>Faust</cite> -and his <cite>Roman Lyrics</cite> are the most popular, and, as -literature, the most permanent parts of his work, with -<cite>Werther</cite>, <cite>Wilhelm Meister</cite>, and <cite>Elective Affinities</cite>, in -prose. Schiller, beginning with the boyish romanticism -of <cite>The Robbers</cite>, became a kind of classic in his later -dramas. Lessing and Winckelmann were the most -sound and fertile influences in criticism. <cite>The Laocoon</cite> -remains indispensable. The patriotic lyrists resurrected -the national spirit of the Teutonic race, and -Heine, Hebrew by race and half French in character, -combined the characteristics of Lucian, Burns, and -Voltaire.</p> - -<p>Wolf, writing in Latin (and I believe that his work -on Homer has never attained a third edition, and has -never been translated into English), became the parent, -for good or evil, of what is called the Higher Criticism, -Lachmann introducing the painfully conjectural tendencies -of that intellectual exercise. Its application to -scriptural texts is notorious, but not precisely as part -of literature. Like other European countries, the Germany -of the close of the century is not remarkable for -resplendent genius in poetry or fiction, though novels -abound. The scientific, historical, and scholarly literature<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_416">416</a></span> -is of vast profusion. In thoroughness and tireless -patience, Germany is the teacher of the world, while in -curious contrast to her practical genius is the love of -some of her scholars for baseless conjecture. The “insularity” -with which the English are charged is a matter -of reproach by French scholars against Germany. Some -sets of ideas, long familiar in America, England, and -the Latin nations, are only now beginning to reach German -classical scholars.</p> - -<p>To write an account of the changes in French literature -during the century is impossible within moderate -space. The revolutionary and Napoleonic wars were -unfavorable to the literary art, and the head of so great -a poet as André Chénier fell under the guillotine. Till -about 1825–1830 the Restoration was accompanied by -literature in the old classic style of Boileau and of the -Augustan age, only enlivened by the romantic if somewhat -affected style of that great rhetorician, Châteaubriand. -The year 1830 is the sacred year of French romanticism, -drawing its ideals partly from the German -romantic movement, partly from Scott and Shakespeare, -read, of course, only in translations. Everything was -now to be mediæval, Spanish, and passionate: the drama -was to be emancipated from Aristotle, also read in translations. -As far as classicism went the young adventurers -had no more Greek than Shakespeare or Scott. -But they had the colossal and Titanic genius of Hugo, -exquisitely sweet, rapid, strange, and versatile in lyric: -potent, if inflated, in the drama and the novel. They -had the charming humor and exquisite taste of Théophile -Gautier; the feverish passion and mastery in verse of -Alfred de Musset; the delicate, dreamy, and wandering -spirit of Gérard de Nerval; and the manly, courageous, -humorous, and unwearied vigor, in drama and in fiction, -of Alexandre Dumas.</p> - -<p>This was, indeed, an extraordinary generation, by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_417">417</a></span> -far the greatest since that of Corneille, Racine, and Molière. -Many others might be named: the reserved -force and incisive irony of Mérimée; the learned and genial -criticism of Sainte-Beuve; the inexhaustible talent -of George Sand, and the mighty Balzac, the maker and -founder of the modern work of introspection. Probably, -of all these writers, Dumas and Balzac have exercised -most influence on later fiction in England and -America. Flaubert continued, with painful elaboration, -the traditions of Balzac; from Flaubert, and round him, -grew up Daudet and M. Zola, and the Goncourts. Poetry, -after Lamartine, dwindled into the prettinesses of -the Parnasse and the eccentricities, too obviously intentional, -of Baudelaire, Verlaine, and the Symbolistes. -Literary art, at the end of the century, became too self-conscious, -too fond of argument about ideals and methods, -the tattle of the studio. Great men have not thus -dissipated their energy; they have done what they -could do; they have not talked about how they did it. -What English literature was borrowed from France, at -this time, is more in the nature of words than work. -Criticism has been a <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">chimaera bombinans in vacuo</i>, chattering -about realism, naturalism, symbolism, the use of -documents, and so forth. The defects, rather than the -merits, of France have been imitated; a squalid pessimism -is easily affected.</p> - -<p>The closing century has seen Russia awake, as the -close of the eighteenth century beheld the literary revival -of Germany. Russian poetry has only reached the -learned among us: the novels of Turguenieff, Dustoiefsky, -and Tolstoï are read in translation, with curiosity, -antipathy, enthusiasm, and an absence of that emotion. -It is very long since Terentianus Maurus remarked that -the fortunes of a book depended on the taste of the reader. -Often he is favorably impressed, not by the actual merit -of the story as a story or as a work of literary art, but by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_418">418</a></span> -its appeal to his private sentiments, as of socialism, -pessimism, toryism, or whatever they may be. Possibly -the vehement admirers of some Russian writers have -been thus misguided. In any case, no qualified critic -thinks that his opinion of works which he cannot read in -the original language is of any value. For this reason -I need not offend or please the reader by offering any -uninstructed sentiments about the great Scandinavian -dramatist, Dr. Ibsen; or concerning the work of Signor -d’Annunzio, or the plays of M. Maeterlinck. To pronounce -each of these gentlemen a Shakespeare or Æschylus -is not unusual in cultivated circles; it remains for -the new century to ratify or quash the verdict. In the -mean time, have the approving critics taken the precaution -of reading Æschylus and Shakespeare?</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">Andrew Lang.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_421">421</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="ENGINEERING"></a>ENGINEERING</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> material prosperity of the last century is due to -the co-operation of three classes of men: the man of -science, who lives only for truth and the discovery of -nature’s laws; the inventor, eager to apply these discoveries -to money-making machines and processes, -and the engineer, trained in mathematical investigation -and in knowledge of the physical conditions which govern -his profession, which is the mechanical application -of the laws of nature.</p> - -<p>Engineering is sometimes divided into civil, military, -and naval engineering. The term civil engineering, -which will be here described, is often used by writers -as covering structural engineering only, but it has a -much wider meaning.</p> - -<p>The logical classification is: statical engineering, including -that of all fixed bodies, and dynamical, covering -the movement of all bodies by the development and -application of power.</p> - -<p>Statical engineering can be again subdivided into -structural engineering, or that of railways, highways, -bridges, foundations, tunnels, buildings, etc.; also, -into hydraulic engineering, which governs the application -of water to canals, river improvements, harbors, -the supply of water to towns and for irrigation, disposal -of sewage, etc.</p> - -<p>Dynamical engineering can be divided into mechanical -engineering, which covers the construction of all prime -motors, the transmission of power, and the use of machines<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_422">422</a></span> -and machine tools. Closely allied is electrical engineering, -the art of the transformation and transmission of -energy for traction, lighting, telegraphy, telephoning, -operating machinery, and many other uses, such as its -electrolytic application to ores and metals.</p> - -<p>Then we have the combined application of statical, -mechanical, and electrical engineering to what is now -called industrial engineering, or the production of articles -useful to man. This may be divided into agricultural, -mining, metallurgical, and chemical engineering.</p> - -<p>Surely this is a vast field, and can only be hastily described -in the sketch which we are about to give.</p> - -<h3>STRUCTURAL ENGINEERING</h3> - -<p>This is the oldest of all. We have not been able to -surpass the works of the past in grandeur or durability. -The pyramids of Egypt still stand, and will stand for -thousands of years. Roman bridges, aqueducts, and -sewers still perform their duties. Joseph’s canal still -irrigates Lower Egypt. The great wall of China, running -for fifteen hundred miles over mountains and plains, -contains one hundred and fifty millions of cubic yards -of materials and is the greatest of artificial works. No -modern building compares in grandeur with St. Peter’s, -and the mediæval cathedrals shame our puny imitations.</p> - -<p>These mighty works were built to show the piety of -the Church or to gratify the pride of kings. Time and -money were of no account. All this has now been -changed. Capital controls, and the question of time, -money, and usefulness rules everything. Hence come -scientific design and labor-saving machinery.</p> - -<p>The engineer of our modern works first calculates -the stresses on all their parts, and proportions them -accordingly, so that there is no waste of material. Hand -labor has given place to steam machinery. All parts<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_423">423</a></span> -are interchangeable, so that they can be made and fitted -together in the least possible time, as is seen every day -in the construction of a steel-framed office building. -Our workmen receive much higher wages than in the -past, while time and cost have been diminished.</p> - -<h3>RAILWAYS</h3> - -<p>The greatest engineering work of the nineteenth -century was the development of the railway system -which has changed the face of the world. Beginning -in 1829 with the locomotive of George Stephenson, it -has extended with such strides that, after seventy years, -there are 466,000 miles of railways in the world, of -which 190,000 miles are in the United States. Their -cost is estimated at forty thousand millions of dollars, -of which ten thousand millions belong to the United -States.</p> - -<p>The rapidity with which railways are built in the -United States and Canada contrasts strongly with what -has been done in other countries. Much has been written -of the energy of Russia in building 3000 miles of Siberian -railway in five or six years. In the United States an -average of 6147 miles was completed every year during -ten successive years, and in 1887 there were built 12,982 -miles. The physical difficulties overcome in Siberia -are no greater than have been overcome here.</p> - -<p>This rapid construction is due to several causes, the -most potent of which has been the need of extending -railways over great distances with little money. Hence -they were built economically, and at first in not as solid -a manner as those of Europe. Steeper gradients, sharper -curves, and lighter rails were used. This rendered -necessary a different kind of rolling-stock suitable to -such construction. The swivelling-truck and equalizing-beam -enabled our engines to run safely on tracks<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_424">424</a></span> -where the rigid European engines would soon have -been in the ditch.</p> - -<p>Our cars were made longer, and by the use of longitudinal -framing much stronger. A great economy -came from the use of annealed cast-iron wheels, with -hardened tires, all in one piece, instead of being built up -of spokes, hubs, and tires in separate parts. These wheels -now seldom break, and cost much less than European -wheels. As there are some eleven million car-wheels in -use in the United States the resulting economy is great.</p> - -<p>It was soon seen that longer cars would carry a greater -proportion of paying load, and the more cars that one -engine could draw in a train, the less would be the cost. -It was not until the invention by Bessemer in 1864 of -a steel of quality and cost that made it available for -rails that much heavier cars and locomotives could be -used. Then came a rapid increase. As soon as Bessemer -rails were made in this country, the cost fell from -$175 per ton to $50, and now to $26.</p> - -<p>Before that time a wooden car weighed sixteen tons, -and could carry a paying load of fifteen tons. The -thirty-ton engines of those days could not draw on a -level over thirty cars weighing 900 tons.</p> - -<p>The pressed steel car of to-day weighs no more than -the wooden car, but carries a paying load of fifty tons. -The heaviest engines have now drawn on a level fifty -steel cars, weighing 3750 tons. In the one case the paying -load of an engine was 450 tons; now it is 2500 tons.</p> - -<p>Steep grades soon developed a better brake system, -and these heavier trains have led to the invention of the -automatic brake worked from the engine, and also automatic -couplers, saving time and many lives. The capacity -of our railways has been greatly increased by -the use of electric block-signals.</p> - -<p>The perfecting of both the railway and its rolling-stock -has led to remarkable results.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_425">425</a></span> -We have no accurate statistics of the early operation -of American railways. In 1867 Poor’s Manual estimated -their total freight tonnage at 75,000,000 and -the total freight receipts at $400,000,000. This was an -average rate per ton of $5.33.</p> - -<p>In 1899 Poor gives the total freight tonnage at 975,789,941 -tons, and the freight receipts at $922,436,314, or -an average rate per ton of ninety-five cents. Had the -rates of 1867 prevailed, the additional yearly cost to the -public would have been $4,275,000,000, or sufficient to -replace the whole railway system in two and a half years.</p> - -<p>This is an illustration only, but a very striking one. -Everybody knows that such high rates of freight as -those of 1867 would have checked traffic. This much -can surely be said: the reduction in cost of operating -our railways, and the consequent fall in freight rates, -have been potent factors in enabling the United States -to send abroad last year $1,456,000,000 worth of exports -and flood the world with our food and manufactured -products.</p> - -<h3>BRIDGE BUILDING</h3> - -<p>In early days the building of a bridge was a matter of -great ceremony, and it was consecrated to protect it from -evil spirits. Its construction was controlled by priests, -as the title of the Pope of Rome, “Pontifex Maximus,” -indicates.</p> - -<p>Railways changed all this. Instead of the picturesque -stone bridge, whose long line of low arches harmonized -with the landscape, there came the straight girder or -high truss, ugly indeed, but quickly built, and costing -much less.</p> - -<p>Bridge construction has made greater progress in the -United States than abroad. The heavy trains that we -have described called for stronger bridges. The large -American rolling-stock is not used in England, and but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_426">426</a></span> -little on the continent of Europe, as the width of tunnels -and other obstacles will not allow of it. It is said that -there is an average of one bridge for every three miles of -railway in the United States, making 63,000 bridges, -most of which have been replaced by new and stronger -ones during the last twenty years.</p> - -<p>This demand has brought into existence many bridge-building -companies, some of whom make the whole -bridge, from the ore to the finished product.</p> - -<p>Before the advent of railways, highway bridges in -America were made of wood, and called trusses. Few -of them existed before railways. The large rivers and -estuaries were crossed in horse-boats, a trip more dangerous -than an Atlantic voyage now is. A few smaller -rivers had wooden truss bridges. Although originally -invented by Leonardo da Vinci, in the sixteenth century, -they were reinvented by American carpenters. Some -of Burr’s bridges are still standing after more than one -hundred years’ use. This shows what wood can do -when not overstrained and protected from weather and -fire.</p> - -<p>The coming of railways required a stronger type of -bridge to carry concentrated loads, and the Howe truss, -with vertical iron rods, was invented, capable of 150-foot -spans.</p> - -<p>About 1868 iron bridges began to take the place of -wooden bridges. Die-forged eyebars and pin connections -allowed of longer panels and longer spans. One of -the first long-span bridges was a single-track railway -bridge of 400-foot span over the Ohio at Cincinnati, which -was considered to be a great achievement in 1870.</p> - -<p>The Kinzua viaduct, 310 feet high and over half a -mile long, belongs to this era. It is the type of the numerous -high viaducts now so common.</p> - -<p>About 1885 a new material was given to engineers, -having greater strength and tenacity than iron, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_427">427</a></span> -commercially available from its low cost. This is basic -steel. After many experiments, the proper proportions -of carbon, phosphorus, sulphur, and manganese were -ascertained, and uniformity resulted. The open-hearth -process is now generally used. This new chemical metal, -for such it is, is fifty per cent. stronger than iron, -and can be tied in a knot when cold.</p> - -<p>The effect of improved devices and the use of steel is -shown by the weights of the 400-foot Ohio River iron -bridge, built in 1870, and a bridge at the same place, -built in 1886.</p> - -<p>The bridge of 1870 was of iron, had panels twelve feet -long, and its height was forty-five feet, and span 400 -feet.</p> - -<p>The bridge of 1886 was of steel, had panels thirty feet -long, and its height was eighty feet. Its span was 550 -feet. The weights of the two were nearly alike.</p> - -<p>The cantilever design, which is a revival of a very -ancient type, came into use. The great Forth Bridge, -in Scotland, 1600-foot span, is of this style, as are the -500-foot spans at Poughkeepsie, and now a new one is -being designed to cross the St. Lawrence near Quebec, -of 1800-foot span.</p> - -<p>This is probably near the economic limit of cantilever -construction, but the suspension bridge can be extended -much farther, as it carries no dead weight of compression -members.</p> - -<p>The Niagara Suspension Bridge, of 810-foot span, -built by Roebling, in 1852, and the Brooklyn Bridge, -of 1600 feet, built by Roebling and his son, twenty years -after, marked a wonderful advance in bridge design.</p> - -<p>Thirty years later, when a new bridge of 1600 feet -was wanted to cross another part of the East River at -New York, the same lines of construction were followed, -and they will be followed in the 2700-foot span, designed -to cross the North River some time in the present century.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_428">428</a></span> -The only radical advance is the use of a better -steel than could be had in earlier days.</p> - -<p>Steel-arched bridges are now scientifically designed. -Such are the new Niagara Bridge, of 840-foot span, and -the Alexandra Bridge at Paris.</p> - -<p>It is curious to see how little is said about these beautiful -bridges, which the public takes as a matter of course. -If they had been built fifty years ago, their engineers -would have received the same praise as Robert Stephenson -or Roebling, and justly so, as they would have been -men of exceptional genius. When these bridges were -built, in 1898, the path had been made so clear by mathematical -investigation and the command of a better -steel, that the task seemed easy.</p> - -<p>That which marks more clearly than anything else -the great advance in American bridge building, during -the last forty years, is the reconstruction of the famous -Victoria Bridge, over the St. Lawrence, above Montreal. -This bridge was designed by Robert Stephenson, and the -stone piers are a monument to his engineering skill. -For forty winters they have resisted the great fields of -ice borne by a rapid current. Their dimensions were -so liberal that the new bridge was put upon them, although -four times as wide as the old one.</p> - -<p>The superstructure was originally made of plate-iron -tubes, reinforced by tees and angles, similar to Stephenson’s -Menai Straits Bridge. There are twenty-two -spans of 240 feet each, and a central one of 330 feet. -Perhaps these tubes were the best that could be had at -the time, but they had outlived their usefulness. Their -interiors had become greatly corroded by the confined -gases from the engines and the drippings from the -chemicals used in cold-storage cars. Their height was -insufficient for modern large cars, and the confined -smoke made them so dark that the number of trains was -greatly limited.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_429">429</a></span> -It was decided to build a new bridge of open-work -construction and of open-hearth steel. This was done, -and the comparison is as follows: Old bridge, sixteen -feet wide, single track, live load of one ton per foot; new -bridge, sixty-seven feet wide, two railway tracks and -two carriage-ways, live load five tons per foot.</p> - -<p>The old iron tubes weighed 10,000 tons, cost $2,713,000, -and took two seasons to erect. The new truss -bridge weighs 22,000 tons, has cost between $1,300,000 -and $1,400,000, and the time of construction was one -year.</p> - -<p>During his experience the writer has seen the rolling-load -of bridges increase from 2000 to 4000 pounds per -lineal foot of track, with an extra allowance for concentrated -loads.</p> - -<p>The modern high office building is an interesting -example of the evolution of a high-viaduct pier. Such -a pier of the required dimensions, strengthened by more -columns strong enough to carry many floors, is the -skeleton frame. Enclose the sides with brick, stone, or -terra-cotta, add windows, and doors, and elevators, and -it is complete.</p> - -<p>Fortunately for the stability of these high buildings, -the effect of wind pressures had been studied in this -country in the designs of the Kinzua, Pecos, and other -high viaducts.</p> - -<p>All this had been thoroughly worked out and known -to our engineers before the fall of the Tay Bridge in -Scotland. That disastrous event led to very careful -experiments on wind pressures by Sir Benjamin Baker, -the very eminent engineer of the Forth Bridge. His -experiments showed that a wind gauge of 300 square -feet area showed a maximum pressure of thirty-five -pounds per square foot, while a small one of one foot -and a half square area registered gusts of forty-one -pounds per square foot.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_430">430</a></span> -The modern elevated railway of cities is simply a very -long railway viaduct. Some idea may be gained of the -life of a modern riveted-iron structure from the experience -of the Manhattan Elevated Railway of New -York. These roads were built in 1878–79 to carry uniform -loads of 1600 pounds per lineal foot, except Second -Avenue, which was made to carry 2000. The stresses -were below 10,000 pounds per square inch.</p> - -<p>These viaducts have carried in twenty-two years over -25,000,000 trains, weighing over 3,000,000,000 tons, at a -maximum speed of twenty-five miles an hour, and are -still in good order.</p> - -<p>Bridge engineers of the present day are free from the -difficulties which confronted the early designers of iron -bridges. The mathematics of bridge design was understood -in 1870, but the proportioning of details had -to be worked out individually. Every new span was a -new problem. Now the engineer tells his draughtsman -to design a span of a given length, height, and width, -and to carry such a load. By the light of experience he -does this at once.</p> - -<p>Connections have become standardized so that the duplication -of parts can be carried to its fullest extent.</p> - -<p>Machine tools are used to make every part of a bridge, -and power riveters to fasten them together. Great accuracy -can now be had, and the sizes of parts have increased -in a remarkable degree.</p> - -<p>We have now great bridge companies, which are so -completely equipped with appliances for both shop drawings -and construction that the old joke becomes almost -true that they can make bridges and sell them by the mile.</p> - -<p>All improvements of design are now public property. -All that the bridge companies do is done in the fierce -light of competition. Mistakes mean ruin, and the -fittest only survives.</p> - -<p>Having such powerful aids, the American bridge<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_431">431</a></span> -engineer of to-day has advantages over his predecessors -and over his European brethren, where the American -system has not yet been adopted.</p> - -<p>The American system gives the greatest possible -rapidity of erection of the bridge on its piers. A span -of 518 feet, weighing 1000 tons, was erected at Cairo on -the Mississippi in six days. The parts were not assembled -until they were put upon the false works. European -engineers have sometimes ordered a bridge to be riveted -together complete in the maker’s yard, and then taken -apart.</p> - -<p>The adoption of American work in such bridges as -the Atbara in South Africa, the Gokteik viaduct in Burmah, -320 feet high, and others, was due to low cost, -quick delivery and erection, as well as excellence of -material and construction.</p> - -<h3>FOUNDATIONS, ETC.</h3> - -<p>Bridges must have foundations for their piers. Up -to the middle of the nineteenth century engineers knew -no better way of making them than by laying bare the -bed of the river by a pumped-out cofferdam, or by driving -piles into the sand, as Julius Cæsar did. About the -middle of the century, M. Triger, a French engineer, conceived -the first plan of a pneumatic foundation, which led -to the present system of compressing air by pumping it -into an inverted box, called a caisson, with air locks on -top to enable men and materials to go in and out. After -the soft materials were removed, and the caisson sunk -by its own weight to the proper depth, it was filled with -concrete. The limit of depth is that in which men can -work in compressed air without injury, and this is not -much over one hundred feet.</p> - -<p>The foundations of the Brooklyn and St. Louis bridges -were put down in this manner.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_432">432</a></span> -In the construction of the Poughkeepsie bridge over -the Hudson in 1887–88, it became necessary to go down -135 feet below tide-level before hard bottom was reached. -Another process was invented to take the place of compressed -air. Timber caissons were built, having double -sides, and the spaces between them filled with stone to -give weight. Their tops were left open and the American -single-bucket dredge was used. This bucket was lowered -and lifted by a very long wire rope worked by the engine, -and with it the soft material was removed. By moving -this bucket to different parts of the caisson its sinking -was perfectly controlled, and the caisson finally placed in -its exact position, and perfectly vertical. The internal -space was then filled with concrete laid under water by -the same bucket, and levelled by divers when necessary.</p> - -<p>While this work was going on, the government of New -South Wales, in Australia, called for both designs and -tenders for a bridge over an estuary of the sea called -Hawkesbury. The conditions were the same as at -Poughkeepsie, except that the soft mud reached to a -depth of 160 feet below tide-level.</p> - -<p>The designs of the engineers of the Poughkeepsie -bridge were accepted, and the same method of sinking -open caissons (in this case made of iron) was carried -out with perfect success.</p> - -<p>The erection of this bridge involved another difficult -problem. The mud was too soft and deep for piles and -staging, and the cantilever system in this site would -have increased the cost.</p> - -<p>A staging was built on a large pontoon at the shore, -and the span erected upon it. The whole was then towed -out to the bridge site at high tide. As the tide fell, the -pontoon was lowered and the steel girder was placed -gently on its piers. The whole operation was completed -within six hours. The other five spans were -placed in the same manner.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_433">433</a></span> -The same system was followed afterwards by the engineer -of the Canadian Pacific Railway in placing the -spans of a bridge over the St. Lawrence, in a very rapid -current. It is now used in replacing old spans by new -ones, as it interrupts traffic for the least possible time.</p> - -<p>The solution of the problems presented at Hawkesbury -gave the second introduction of American engineers to -bridge building outside of America. The first was in -1786, when an American carpenter or shipwright built -a bridge over Charles River at Boston, 1470 feet long by -forty-six feet wide. This bridge was of wood supported -on piles. His work gained for him such renown that -he was called to Ireland and built a similar bridge at -Belfast.</p> - -<p>Tunnelling by compressed air is a horizontal application -of compressed-air foundations. The earth is supported -by an iron tube, which is added to in rings, which -are pushed forward by hydraulic jacks.</p> - -<p>A tunnel is now being made under an arm of the sea -between Boston and East Boston, some 1400 feet long -and sixty-five feet below tide. The interior lining of -iron tubing is not used. The tunnel is built of concrete, -reinforced by steel rods. This will effect a considerable -economy. Success in modern engineering means doing a -thing in the most economical way consistent with safety.</p> - -<p>The Saint Clair tunnel, which carries the Grand Trunk -Railway of Canada under the outlet of Lake Huron, -is a successful example of such work. Had the North -River tunnel, at New York, been designed on equally -scientific principles, it would probably have been finished, -which now seems problematical.</p> - -<p>The construction of rapid-transit railways in cities -is another branch of engineering, covering structural, -mechanical, and electrical engineering. Some of these -railways are elevated, and are merely railway viaducts, -but the favorite type now is that of subways. There<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_434">434</a></span> -are two kinds, those near the surface, like the District -railways of London, the subways in Paris, Berlin, and -Boston, and that now building in New York. The -South London and Central London, and other London -projects, are tubes sunk fifty to eighty feet below the -surface and requiring elevators for access. These are -made on a plan devised by Greathead, and consist of -cast-iron tubes pushed forward by hydraulic rams, and -having the space outside of the tube filled with liquid -cement pumped into place.</p> - -<p>The construction of the Boston subway was difficult -on account of the small width of the streets, their great -traffic, and the necessity of underpinning the foundations -of buildings. All of this was successfully done -without disturbing the traffic for a single day, and reflects -great credit on the engineer. Owing to the great -width of New York streets, the problem is simpler in -that respect, but requires skill in design and organization -to complete the work in a short time. Although -many times as long as the Boston subway, it will be built -in nearly the same time. The design, where in earth, -may be compared to that of a steel office building twenty -miles long, laid flat on one of its sides. The reduplication -of parts saves time and labor, and is the key to the -anticipated rapid progress. Near the surface this subway -is built in open excavation, and tunnelling is confined -to rock.</p> - -<p>The construction of power-houses for developing energy -from coal and from falling water requires much -structural besides electrical and mechanical engineering -ability. The Niagara power-house is intended to develop -100,000 horse-power; that at the Sault Ste. Marie -as much; that on the St. Lawrence, at Massena, 70,000 -horse-power. These are huge works, requiring tunnels, -rock-cut chambers, and masonry and concrete in walls -and dams. They cover large extents of territory.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_435">435</a></span> -The contrast in size of the coal-using power-houses -is interesting. The new power-house now building -by the Manhattan Elevated Railway, in New York, develops -in the small space of 200 by 400 feet 100,000 horse-power, -or as much power as that utilized at Niagara Falls.</p> - -<p>One of the most useful materials which modern engineers -now make use of is concrete, which can be put into -confined spaces and laid under water. It costs less -than masonry, while as strong. This is the revival of -the use of a material used by the Romans. The writer -was once allowed to climb a ladder and look at the construction -of a dome of the Pantheon, at Rome. He -found it a monolithic mass of concrete, and hence without -thrust. It is a better piece of engineering construction -than the dome of St. Peter’s, built fifteen hundred -years later. The dome of Columbia College Library, in -New York, is built of concrete.</p> - -<p>Concrete is a mixture of broken stone or gravel, sand, -and Portland cement. Its virtue depends upon the -uniform good quality of the cement. The use of the -rotary kiln, which exposes all the contained material to -a uniform and constant intense heat, has revolutionized -the manufacture of Portland cement. The engineer -can now depend upon its uniformity of strength.</p> - -<p>Wheels, axles, bridges, and rails have all been strengthened -to carry their increased loads; but, strange to say, -the splices which hold in place the ends of the rails, and -which are really short-span bridges, are now the weakest -part of a railway. The angle-bar splice has but one-third -of the strength of the rail, and its strength cannot -be increased, owing to its want of depth. Joints go -down under every passing wheel, and the ends of the -rails wear out long before the rest.</p> - -<p>This is not an insignificant detail. It has been estimated -by the officers of one of the trunk lines that a splice -of proper design and strength would save yearly enough<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_436">436</a></span> -in track labor (most of which is expended in tamping up -low joints) to buy all the new rails and fastenings required -in some time. It would save much more than -that in the wear of rolling-stock. A perfect joint would -be an economic device next in value to the Bessemer -steel rail. Here is a place for scientific and practical -skill.</p> - -<h3>HYDRAULIC ENGINEERING</h3> - -<p>This is one of the oldest branches of engineering, and -was developed before the last century. The irrigation -works of Asia, Africa, Spain, Italy, the Roman aqueducts, -and the canals of Europe, are examples. Hydraulic -works cannot be constructed in ignorance of the -laws which govern the flow of water. The action of -water is relentless, as ruined canals, obstructed rivers, -and washed-out dams testify.</p> - -<p>The principal additions of the nineteenth century to -hydraulic engineering are the collection of larger statistics -of the flow of water in pipes and channels, of rainfall, -run-off, and available supply. It is now known -that the germs of disease can be retained by ordinary -sand filters, and it is now an established fact that pure -drinking water and proper drainage are a sure preventive -of typhoid and similar fevers. Very foul water can be -made potable. Experiments show that the water of the -Schuylkill River at Philadelphia, which contains 400,000 -germs in the space of less than a cubic inch, was so -much purified by filtering that only sixty remained. -This is a discovery of sanitary science, but the application -of it is through structural engineering, which designs -and executes the filter beds with great economy.</p> - -<p>The removal of sewage, after having been done by -the Etruscans before the foundation of Rome, became a -lost art during the dirty Dark Ages, when filth and piety -were deemed to be connected in some mysterious way.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_437">437</a></span> -It was reserved for good John Wesley to point out that -“Cleanliness is next to godliness.” Now sewage works -are as common as those for water supply. Some of them -have been of great size and cost. Such are the drainage -works of London, Paris, Berlin, Boston, Chicago, and -New Orleans. A very difficult work was the drainage -of the City of Mexico, which is in a valley surrounded -by mountains, and elevated only four to five feet above a -lake having no outlet. Attempts to drain the lake had -been made in vain for six hundred years. It has lately -been accomplished by a tunnel six miles long through -the mountains, and a canal of over thirty miles, the whole -work costing some $20,000,000.</p> - -<p>The drainage of Chicago by locks and canal into the -Illinois River has cost some $35,000,000, and is well -worth its cost.</p> - -<p>Scientific research has been applied to the designing -of high masonry and concrete dams, and we know now -that no well-designed dam on a good foundation should -fail. The dams now building across the Nile by order -of the British government will create the largest artificial -lakes in the world. The water thus stored will -be of inestimable value in irrigating the crops of Lower -Egypt. Their cost, although great, will not exceed the -sums spent by the lavish Khedive Ismail on useless -palaces, now falling to decay.</p> - -<p>The Suez Canal is one of the largest hydraulic works -of the last century, and is a notable instance of the displacement -of hand labor by the use of machinery. Ismail -began by impressing a large part of the peasant -population of Egypt, just as Rameses had done over -3000 years before. These unfortunate people were -set to dig the sand with rude hoes, and carry it -away in baskets on their heads. They died by thousands -for want of water and proper food. At last the -French engineers persuaded the Khedive to let them introduce<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_438">438</a></span> -steam dredging machinery. A light railway -was laid to supply provisions, and a small ditch dug to -bring pure water. The number of men employed fell -to one-fourth. Machinery did the rest. But for this -the canal would never have been finished.</p> - -<p>The Panama Canal now uses the best modern machinery, -and the Nicaragua Canal, if built, will apply -still better methods, developed on the Chicago drainage -canal, where material was handled at a less cost than -has ever been done before.</p> - -<p>Russia is better supplied with internal waterways than -any other country. Her rivers rise near each other, and -have long been connected by canals. It is stated that -she has over 60,000 miles of internal navigation, and -is now preparing the construction of canals to connect -the Caspian with the Baltic Sea.</p> - -<p>The Erie Canal was one of very small cost, but its -influence has been surpassed by none. The “winning -of the West” was hastened many years by the construction -of this work in the first quarter of the century. -Two horses were just able to draw a ton of goods at the -speed of two miles an hour over the wretched roads of -those days. When the canal was made these two horses -could draw a boat carrying 150 tons four miles an hour. -Mud, or, in other words, friction, is the great enemy of -civilization, and canals were the first things to diminish -it, and after that railways.</p> - -<p>The Erie Canal was made by engineers, but it had to -make its own engineers first, as there were none available -in this country at that time. These self-taught men, -some of them land surveyors and others lawyers, showed -themselves the equals of the Englishmen Brindley and -Smeaton, when they located a water route through the -wilderness, having a uniform descent from Lake Erie -to the Hudson, and which would have been so built if -there had been enough money.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_439">439</a></span> -The question now is whether to enlarge the capacity -of this canal by enlarging its prism and locks, or to increase -speed and move more boats in a season by electrical -appliances. The last method seems more in line -with those of the present day.</p> - -<p>There should be a waterway from the Hudson to Lake -Erie large enough for vessels able to navigate the lakes -and the ocean. A draft of twenty-one feet can be had -at a cost estimated at $200,000,000.</p> - -<p>The deepening of the Chicago drainage canal to the -Mississippi River, and the deepening of the Mississippi -itself to the Gulf of Mexico, is a logical sequence of the -first project. The Nicaragua Canal would then form -one part of a great line of navigation, by which the -products of the interior of the continent could reach -either the Atlantic or Pacific Ocean.</p> - -<p>The cost would be small compared with the resulting -benefits, and some day this navigation will be built by -the government of the United States.</p> - -<p>The deepening of the Southwest Pass of the Mississippi -River from six to thirty feet by James B. Eads was a -great engineering achievement. It was the first application -of the jetty system on a large scale. This is merely -confining the flow of a river, and thus increasing its -velocity so that it secures a deeper channel for itself.</p> - -<p>The improvement of harbors follows closely the increased -size of ocean and lake vessels. The approach -to New York harbor is now being deepened to forty feet, -a thing impossible to be done without the largest application -of steam machinery in a suction dredge boat.</p> - -<p>The great increase of urban population, due to steam -and electric railways, has made works of water supply -and drainage necessary everywhere. Some of these -are on a very grand scale. An illustration of this is -the Croton Aqueduct of New York as it now is, and as it -will be hereafter.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_440">440</a></span> -This work was thought by its designers to be on a -scale large enough to last for all time. It is now less -than sixty years old, and the population of New York -will soon be too large to be supplied by it.</p> - -<p>It is able to supply 250,000,000 to 300,000,000 gallons -daily, and its cost, when the Cornell dam and Jerome -Park reservoir are finished, will be a little over $92,000,000.</p> - -<p>It is now suggested to store water in the Adirondack -Mountains, 203 miles away, by dams built at the outlet -of ten or twelve lakes. This will equalize the flow of -the Hudson River so as to give 3,000,000,000 to 4,000,000,000 -gallons daily. It is then proposed to pump -1,000,000,000 gallons daily from the Hudson River at -Poughkeepsie, sixty miles away, to a height sufficient -to supply the city by gravity through an aqueduct. -This water would be filtered at Poughkeepsie, and we -now know that all impurities can be removed.</p> - -<p>If this scheme is carried out, the total supply will be -about 1,300,000,000 gallons daily, or enough for a population -of from 12,000,000 to 13,000,000 persons. By -putting in more pumps, filter-beds, and conduits, this -supply can be increased forty per cent., or to 1,800,000,000 -gallons daily. This water would fill every day a lake -one mile square by ten feet deep. This is a fair example -of the scale of the engineering works of the nineteenth -and twentieth centuries.</p> - -<p>By the application of modern labor-saving machinery, -the cost of this work can be so far controlled that the cost -to the city of New York per 1,000,000 gallons would -be no greater than that of the present Croton supply.</p> - -<p>All works of hydraulic engineers depend on water. -But what will happen if the water all dries up? India, -China, Spain, Turkey, and Syria have suffered from -droughts, caused clearly by the destruction of their -forests. The demand for paper to print books and newspapers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_441">441</a></span> -upon, and for other purposes, is fast converting -our forests into pulp. We cannot even say, “After us -the deluge,” for it will seldom rain in those evil days. -When the rains do come, the sponge-like vegetation of -the forests being gone, the streams will be torrents at -one time of the year and dried up during the rest, as we -now see in the arid regions of the West.</p> - -<h3>MECHANICAL ENGINEERING</h3> - -<p>This is employed in all dynamical engineering. It -covers the designs of prime motors of all sorts, steam, -gas, and gasoline reciprocating engines; also steam -and water turbines, wind-mills, and wave-motors.</p> - -<p>It comprises all means of transmitting power, as by -shafting, ropes, pneumatic pressure, and compressed -air, all of which seem likely to be superseded by electricity.</p> - -<p>It covers the construction of machine tools and machinery -of all kinds. It enters into all the processes of -structural, hydraulic, electrical, and industrial engineering. -The special improvements are: The almost -universal use of rotary motion, and of the reduplication -of parts.</p> - -<p>The steam-engine is a machine of reciprocating, converted -into rotary, motion by the crank. The progress -of mechanical engineering during the nineteenth century -is measured by the improvements of the steam-engine, -principally in the direction of saving fuel, by the -invention of internal combustion or gas-engines, the -application of electrical transmission, and, latest, the -practical development of steam turbines by Parsons, -Westinghouse, Delaval, Curtis, and others. In these -a jet of steam impinges upon buckets set upon the circumference -of a wheel. It was clearly indicated by the -Italian engineer Bronca, in 1629, but he was too early.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_442">442</a></span> -The time was not ripe, and there were then no machine -tools giving the perfection of workmanship required.</p> - -<p>Their advantages are that their motion is rotary and -not reciprocal. They can develop speed of from 5000 -to 30,000 revolutions per minute, while the highest -ever attained by a reciprocating engine is not over -1000. Their thermodynamic losses are less, hence they -consume less steam and less fuel.</p> - -<p>It is a very interesting fact that the basic invention -upon which not only steam turbines and electric dynamos, -but, indeed, all other parts of mechanical engineering, -depend, is of such remote antiquity that we know -nothing of its origin. This is the wheel which Gladstone -said was the greatest of man’s mechanical inventions, -as there is nothing in nature to suggest it.</p> - -<p>Duplication of parts has lowered the cost of all products. -Clothing is one of these. The parts of ready-made garments -and shoes are now cut into shape in numbers at -a time, by sharp-edged templates, and then fastened -together by sewing-machines.</p> - -<p>Mechanical engineering is a good example of the -survival of the fittest. Millions of dollars are expended -on machinery, when suddenly a new discovery or invention -casts them all into the scrap heap, to be replaced -by those of greater earning capacity.</p> - -<p>Prime motors derive their energy either from coal -or other combinations of carbon, such as petroleum, or -from gravity. This may come from falling water, and -the old-fashioned water-wheels of the eighteenth century -were superseded in the nineteenth by turbines, first invented -in France and since greatly perfected. These -are used in the electrical transmission of water-power at -Niagara of 5000 horse-power, and form a very important -part of the plant.</p> - -<p>The other gravity motors are wind-mills and wave-motors. -Wind-mills are an old invention, but have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_443">443</a></span> -been greatly improved in the United States by the use -of the self-reefing wheel. The great plains of the West -are subject to sudden, violent gales of wind, and unless -the wheel was automatically self-reefing it would often -be destroyed. Little has been written about these wheels, -but their use is very widely extended, and they perform -a most useful function in industrial engineering.</p> - -<p>There have been vast numbers of patents taken out -for wave-motors. One was invented in Chili, South -America, which furnished a constant power for four -months, and was utilized in sawing planks. The action -of waves is more constant on the Pacific coast of America -than elsewhere, and some auxiliary power, such as a -gasoline engine, which can be quickly started and stopped, -must be provided for use during calm days. The -prime cost of such a machine need not exceed that of a -steam plant, and the cost of operating is much less than -that of any fuel-burning engine. The saving of coal -is a very important problem. In a wider sense, we may -say that the saving of all the great stores which nature -has laid up for us during the past, and which have remained -almost untouched until the nineteenth century, -is <em>the</em> great problem of to-day.</p> - -<p>Petroleum and natural gas may disappear. The -ores of gold, silver, and platinum will not last forever. -Trees will grow, and iron ores seem to be practically -inexhaustible. Chemistry has added a new metal in -aluminum, which replaces copper for many purposes. -One of the greatest problems of the twentieth century -is to discover some chemical process for treating iron, -by which oxidation will not take place.</p> - -<p>Coal, next to grain, is the most important of nature’s -gifts; it can be exhausted, or the cost of mining it become -so great that it cannot be obtained in the countries where -it is most needed; water, wind, and wave power may -take its place to a limited extent, and greater use may<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_444">444</a></span> -be made of the waste gases coming from blast or smelter -furnaces, but as nearly all energy comes from coal, -its use must be economized, and the greatest economy -will come from pulverizing coal and using it in the shape -of a fine powder. Inventions have been made trying -to deliver this powder into the fire-box as fast as made, -for it is as explosive as gunpowder, and as dangerous -to store or handle. If this can be done, there will be a -saving of coal due to perfect and smokeless combustion, -as the admission of air can be entirely regulated, the -same blast which throws in the powder furnishing oxygen. -Some investigators have estimated that the saving of -coal will be as great as twenty per cent. This means -100,000,000 tons of coal annually.</p> - -<p>Bituminous coal will then be as smokeless as anthracite, -and can be burned in locomotives. Cities will be free -from the nuisance of wasted coal, which we call soot. -This process will be the best kind of mechanical stoking, -and will prevent the necessity of opening the doors of -fire-boxes. The boiler-rooms of steamships will no -longer be “floating hells,” and the firing of large locomotives -will become easy.</p> - -<p>Another problem of mechanical engineering is to -determine whether it will be found more economical to -transform the energy of coal, at the mines, into electric -current and send it by wire to cities and other places -where it is wanted, or to carry the coal by rail and water, -as we now do, to such places, and convert it there by the -steam or gas engine.</p> - -<p>In favor of the first method it can be said that hills -of refuse coal now representing locked-up capital can -be burned, and the cost of transportation and handling -be saved. Electric energy can now transport power -in high voltage economically between coal-mines and -most large cities.</p> - -<p>The second method has the advantage of not depending<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_445">445</a></span> -on one single source of supply, that may break down, -but in having the energy stored in coal-pockets near -by the place of use, where it can be applied to separate -units of power with no fear of failure.</p> - -<p>It seems probable that a combination of the two systems -will produce the best results. Where power can be -sent electrically from the mines for less cost than the -coal can be transported, that method will be used.</p> - -<p>To prevent stoppage of works, the separate motors -and a store of coal, to be used in cases of emergency, -will still be needed, just as has been described as necessary -to the commercial success of wave-motors.</p> - -<h3>ELECTRICAL ENGINEERING</h3> - -<p>Any attempt by the writer of this article to trace the -progress of electricity would be but a vain repetition, -after the admirable manner in which the subject has -been treated in a former paper of this series by Professor -Elihu Thomson.</p> - -<p>We can only once more emphasize the fact that it is -by the union of four separate classes of minds—scientific -discoverers, inventors, engineers, and capitalists—that -this vast new industry has been created, which gives -direct employment to thousands, and, as Bacon said -300 years ago, has “endowed the human race with new -powers.”</p> - -<h3>METALLURGY AND MINING</h3> - -<p>All the processes of metallurgy and mining employ -statical, hydraulic, mechanical, and electrical engineering. -Coal, without railways and canals, would be of -little use, unless electrical engineering came to its aid.</p> - -<p>It was estimated by the late Lord Armstrong that of -the 450,000,000 to 500,000,000 tons of coal annually produced -in the world, one-third is used for steam production,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_446">446</a></span> -one-third in metallurgical processes, and one-third -for domestic consumption. This last item seems -large. It is the most important manufacturing industry -in the world, as may be seen by comparing the coalless -condition of the eighteenth century with the coal-using -condition of the nineteenth century.</p> - -<p>Next in importance comes the production of iron and -steel. Steel, on account of its great cost and brittleness, -was only used for tools and special purposes until past -the middle of the last century. This has been all changed -by the invention of his steel by Bessemer in 1864, and -open-hearth steel in the furnace of Siemens, perfected -some twenty years since by Gilchrist & Thomas.</p> - -<p>The United States have taken the lead in steel manufacture. -In 1873 Great Britain made three times as -much steel as the United States. Now the United States -makes twice as much as Great Britain, or forty per cent. -of all the steel made in the world.</p> - -<p>Mr. Carnegie has explained the reason why, in epigrammatic -phrase: “Three pounds of steel billets can -be sold for two cents.”</p> - -<p>This stimulates rail and water traffic and other industries, -as he tells us one pound of steel requires two -pounds of ore, one and one-third pounds of coal, and one-third -of a pound of limestone.</p> - -<p>It is not surprising, therefore, that the States bordering -on the lakes have created a traffic of 25,000,000 tons -yearly through the Sault Ste. Marie Canal, while the -Suez, which supplies the wants of half the population of -the world, has only 7,000,000, or less than the tonnage -of the little Harlem River at New York.</p> - -<h3>INDUSTRIAL ENGINEERING</h3> - -<p>This leads us to our last topic, for which too little room -has been left. Industrial engineering covers statical,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_447">447</a></span> -hydraulic, mechanical, and electrical engineering, and -adds a new branch which we may call chemical engineering. -This is pre-eminently a child of the nineteenth -century, and is the conversion of one thing into another -by a knowledge of their chemical constituents.</p> - -<p>When Dalton first applied mathematics to chemistry -and made it quantitative, he gave the key which led to -the discoveries of Cavendish, Gay-Lussac, Berzelius, -Liebig, and others. This new knowledge was not locked -up, but at once given to the world, and made use of. Its -first application on a large scale was made by Napoleon -in encouraging the manufacture of sugar from beets.</p> - -<p>The new products were generally made from what -were called “waste material.” We now have the manufacture -of soda, bleaching powders, aniline dyes, and -other products of the distillation of coal, also coal-oil -from petroleum (known fifty or sixty years ago only as a -horse medicine), acetylene gas, celluloid, rubber goods -in all their numerous varieties, high explosives, cement, -artificial manures, artificial ice, beet-sugar, and even -beer may now be included.</p> - -<p>Through many ages, the alchemists, groping in the -dark, and in ignorance of nature’s laws, wasted their -time in trying to find what they called the philosopher’s -stone, which they hoped would transform the baser -metals into gold.</p> - -<p>If such a thing could be found it would be a curse, as -it would take away one of the most useful instruments -we have—a fixed standard of value.</p> - -<p>In a little over one hundred years, those working by -the light of science have found the true philosopher’s -stone in modern chemistry. The value of only a part of -these new products exceeds the nominal value of all the -gold in the world.</p> - -<p>The value of our mechanical and chemical products is -great, but it is surpassed by that of food products. If<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_448">448</a></span> -these did not keep pace with the increase of population, -the theories of Malthus would be true—but he never saw -a modern reaper.</p> - -<p>The steam-plough was invented in England some -fifty years since, but the great use of agricultural machinery -dates from our Civil War, when so many men -were taken from agriculture. It became necessary to -fill their places with machinery. Without tracing the -steps which have led to it, we may say that the common -type is what is called “the binder,” and is a machine -drawn chiefly by animals, and in some cases by a field -locomotive.</p> - -<p>It cuts, rakes, and binds sheaves of grain at one operation. -Sometimes threshing and winnowing machines -are combined with it, and the grain is delivered -into bags ready for the market.</p> - -<p>Different machines are used for cutting and binding -corn, and for mowing and raking hay, but the most important -of all is the grain-binder. The extent of their -use may be known from the fact that 75,000 tons of -twine are used by these machines annually.</p> - -<p>It is estimated that there are in the United States -1,500,000 of these machines, but as the harvest is -earlier in the South, there are probably not over 1,000,000 -in use at one time. As each machine takes the -place of sixteen men, this means that 16,000,000 men -are released from farming for other pursuits.</p> - -<p>The “man with the hoe” has disappeared from the -real world, and is only to be found in the dreams of poets.</p> - -<p>It is fair to assume that a large part of these 16,000,000 -men have gone into manufacturing, the -operating of railways, and other pursuits. The use -of agricultural machinery, therefore, is one explanation -of why the United States produces eight-tenths of the -world’s cotton and corn, one-quarter of its wheat, one-third -of its meat and iron, two-fifths of its steel, and one-<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_449">449</a></span>third -of its coal, and a large part of the world’s manufactured -goods.</p> - -<h3>CONCLUSION</h3> - -<p>It is a very interesting question, why was this great -development of material prosperity delayed so late? -Why did it wait until the nineteenth century, and then -all at once increase with such rapid strides?</p> - -<p>It was not until modern times that the reign of law -was greatly extended, and men were insured the product -of their labors.</p> - -<p>Then came the union of scientists, inventors, and -engineers.</p> - -<p>So long as these three classes worked separately but -little was done. There was an antagonism between -them. Ancient writers went so far as to say that the -invention of the arch and of the potter’s wheel were beneath -the dignity of a philosopher.</p> - -<p>One of the first great men to take a different view was -Francis Bacon. Macaulay, in his famous essay, quotes -him as saying: “Philosophy is the relief of man’s estate, -and the endowment of the human race with new powers; -increasing their pleasures and mitigating their sufferings.” -These noble words seem to anticipate the famous -definition of civil engineering, embodied by Telford -in the charter of the British Institution of Civil Engineers: -“Engineering is the art of controlling the great -powers of nature for the use and convenience of man.”</p> - -<p>The seed sown by Bacon was long in producing fruit. -Until the laws of nature were better known, there could -be no practical application of them. Towards the end -of the eighteenth century a great intellectual revival -took place. In literature appeared Voltaire, Rousseau, -Kant, Hume, and Goethe. In pure science there came -Laplace, Cavendish, Lavoisier, Linnæus, Berzelius, -Priestley, Count Rumford, James Watt, and Dr. Franklin.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_450">450</a></span> -The last three were among the earliest to bring -about a union of pure and applied science. Franklin -immediately applied his discovery that frictional electricity -and lightning were the same to the protection -of buildings by lightning-rods. Count Rumford (whose -experiments on the conversion of power into heat led -to the discovery of the conservatism of energy) spent a -long life in contriving useful inventions.</p> - -<p>James Watt, one of the few men who have united in -themselves knowledge of abstract science, great inventive -faculties, and rare mechanical skill, changed the -steam-engine from a worthless rattletrap into the most -useful machine ever invented by man. To do this he -first discovered the science of thermodynamics, then -invented the necessary appliances, and finally constructed -them with his own hands. He was a very exceptional -man. At the beginning of the nineteenth -century there were few engineers who had received any -scientific education. Most of them worked by their -constructive instincts, like beavers, or from experience -only. It took a lifetime to educate such an engineer, -and few became eminent until they were old men.</p> - -<p>Now there is in the profession a great army of young -men, most of them graduates of technical schools, good -mathematicians, and well versed in the art of experimenting. -The experiments of undergraduates on cements, -concrete, the flow of water, the impact of metals, -and the steam-engine, have added much to the general -stock of knowledge.</p> - -<p>One of the present causes of progress is that all discoveries -are published at once in technical journals and -in the daily press. The publication of descriptive indexes -of all scientific and engineering articles as fast -as they appear is another modern contrivance.</p> - -<p>Formerly scientific discoveries were concealed by -cryptograms, printed in a dead language, and hidden in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_451">451</a></span> -the archives of learned societies. Even so late as 1821 -Oersted published his discovery of the uniformity of -electricity and magnetism in Latin.</p> - -<p>Engineering works could have been designed and -useful inventions made, but they could not have been -carried out without combination. Corporate organization -collects the small savings of many into great sums -through savings-banks, life insurance companies, etc., -and uses this concentrated capital to construct the vast -works of our days. This could not continue unless -fair dividends were paid. Everything now has to be -designed so as to pay. Time, labor, and material must -be saved, and he ranks highest who can best do this. -Invention has been encouraged by liberal patent laws, -which secure to the inventor property in his ideas at a -moderate cost.</p> - -<p>Combination, organization, and scientific discovery, -inventive ability, and engineering skill are now united.</p> - -<p>It may be said that we have gathered together all -the inventions of the nineteenth century and called -them works of engineering. This is not so. Engineering -covers much more than invention. It includes all -works of sufficient size and intricacy to require men -trained in the knowledge of the physical conditions -which govern the mechanical application of the laws -of nature. First comes scientific discovery, then invention, -and lastly engineering. Faraday and Henry -discovered the electrical laws which led to the invention -of the dynamo, which was perfected by many minds. -Engineering built such works as those at Niagara Falls -to make it useful.</p> - -<p>An ignorant man may invent a safety-pin, but he -cannot build the Brooklyn Bridge.</p> - -<p>The engineer-in-chief commands an army of experts, -as without specialization little can be done. His is the -comprehensive design, for which he alone is responsible.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_452">452</a></span> -Such is the evolution of engineering, which began -as a craft and has ended as a profession.</p> - -<p>In past times, civilization depended upon military -engineering. Warriors at first used only the weapons -of the hand. Then came military engineering, applied -both to attack and defence, and culminating in the invention -of gunpowder. The civilization of to-day depends -greatly upon civil engineering, as we have tried -to show. It has changed the face of the world and -brought all men nearer together. It has improved -the condition of man by sanitary appliances and lowering -the cost of food. It has shown that through machinery -the workman is better educated, and his wages are -increased, while the profits of capital increase also. -It has made representative government possible over -vast areas of territory, and is democratizing the world.</p> - -<p>Thoughtful persons have asked, will this new civilization -last, or will it go the way of its predecessors? Surely -the answer is: all depends on good government, on the -stability of law, order, and justice, protecting the rights -of all classes. It will continue to grow with the growth -of good government, prosper with its prosperity, and -perish with its decay.</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">Thomas C. Clarke.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_455">455</a></span></p> -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="gesperrt"><span class="larger"><a id="RELIGION"></a>RELIGION</span></h2> -</div> - -<h2><a id="CATHOLICISM"></a>CATHOLICISM</h2> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">It</span> is no unnatural curiosity that tempts us to recollect -ourselves at the end of a century and consider the -gains and losses of three generations, our inheritance from -the past, our own administration of the same, and the -prospects of our descendants. Religion can only gain -from such a survey, for she is a world teacher on so large -a scale that all ordinary human methods of comparison -and summary are too dwarfed and insufficient for -her. Her message is to all humanity; hence only the -most universal criteria are rightly applicable to her. -It seems to me that that is especially true of the oldest -historical form of Christianity, which is Roman Catholicism.</p> - -<p>The Roman Church has had a message for all humanity -in every age ever since Saint Clement penned his famous -epistle to the Corinthians, or Saint Victor caused the -Christian world to meet in special councils for the solution -of a universal difficulty. It is no mere coincidence -that, at the opening of the last century of this mystical -and wonderful cycle of two thousand years, the Bishop -of Rome should again address the world in tones whose -moderation and sympathy recall the temper and the -arguments of Saint Clement, his far-away predecessor -and disciple of Saint Peter.</p> - -<p>The year 1800 was a very disheartening one for Catholicism. -It still stood erect and hopeful, but in the -midst of a political and social wreckage, the result of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_456">456</a></span> -a century of scepticism and destructive criticism that -acted at last as sparks for an ungovernable popular -frenzy, during which the old order appeared to pass away -forever and a new one was inaugurated with every manifestation -of joy. The tree of political liberty was everywhere -planted, and the peoples of Europe promised themselves -a life of unalloyed comfort for all future time. -Catholicism was the religion of the majority of these -people, and was cunningly obliged to bear the brunt of -all their complaints, justified and unjustifiable; although -the authorities of Catholicism had long protested against -many of the gravest abuses of the period, sustained in -formal defiance of the principles and institutions of the -Catholic religion. The new Cæsar threatened to be more -terrible to the independence of religion than any ancient -one, and the revenues and establishments by which -Catholicism had kept up its public standing and earned -the esteem and gratitude of the people were swept away -or <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">quasi</i> ruined.</p> - -<p>All the acquired charges and duties of the past were -left to the Catholic religion; yet the means to carry -them on were taken away, sometimes by open violence, -sometimes by insidious measures, but always by gross -injustice. The final incidence of this injustice was on -the common people, since the Church was, after all, only -the administrator of very much that she was thus dispossessed -of.</p> - -<p>With this overturning of all the conditions of Catholic -life came new problems, new trials, and a period -of indefinite, uncertain circumstances that were finally -set at rest only at the Congress of Vienna in 1815, by -which an end was put to the political changes that began -with the Revolution of 1789.</p> - -<p>The <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">modus vivendi</i> then reached, and soon consecrated -by a series of concordats, has remained substantially -the basis of the dealings of Catholicism with the governments<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_457">457</a></span> -of the Old World. Only one formal and permanent -violation of this legal situation has taken place, -the violent and unjust dispossession of the Holy See by -the government of the House of Savoy, in flagrant violation -of every title that could be invoked by a legitimate -civil power. Elsewhere Catholicism has undergone -much suffering, both in the states of the Old -World and in the republics of South America. But, -the above vital conflict apart, the old century closed -with no very acute or intolerable condition of things, -although there is much that does not reply to our -ideas of fairness and justice.</p> - -<h3>THE VATICAN COUNCIL</h3> - -<p>The chief event of the century, from the point of view -of Roman Catholicism, is undoubtedly the holding of -the Vatican Council. Since the Council of Trent the -bishops of the Catholic world had not met in common -under the guidance of the Bishop of Rome. The gravest -interests of religion seemed at stake after more than a -century of public infidelity and the overthrow of all former -safeguards of faith. The character of doctrinal -authority and its visible tangible possessor were declared -by the dogma of Papal infallibility. The genuine relations -of reason and revelation were set forth in unmistakable -language.</p> - -<p>The troubles that followed the close of the Council in -some parts of Europe were neither serious nor long-lived, -since its teachings were in keeping with the general -sense of Catholicism. It promoted, notably, mutual -respect and concord among the bishops and gave to the -multitudes of Catholics in the Old and New Worlds -a new sign of the unity and internal vigor of the -Church. The scenes of the Council are indelibly fixed -in my memory, for I was the youngest and humblest<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_458">458</a></span> -of the six hundred and sixty-seven bishops who composed -it.</p> - -<p>A General Council is the very highest act of the life of -the Church, since it presents within a small compass, and -at once, all the movements that have been developing in -the course of centuries, and offers to all the faithful and -to all outside the Church straightforward answers to all -the great ecclesiastical problems that come up for settlement. -Had the Vatican Council been finished it would -have taken up the grave subject of ecclesiastical discipline. -That is reserved for the reopening of the Council -at some future date.</p> - -<h3>THE MISSIONS OF CATHOLICISM</h3> - -<p>It is incumbent on the Catholic Church to spread the -teachings of Jesus Christ, and this by His own divine -command: “Going, therefore, teach all nations.”</p> - -<p>In this last century she has not been unfaithful, any -more than in others. No portion of the vineyard has been -neglected; the martyr’s blood has watered some parts -more abundantly, but in all the missionary has toiled -without ceasing, has spent himself. In the Far East -Catholic missions have been carried on in India, China, -Thibet, Tonkin. In every part of Africa, northern, -central, and southern, the priests and nuns of the -Catholic Church have preceded the explorer or followed -the trader and the miner with the blessings -of religion. In the still pagan parts of North and -South America her missionaries are found all through -the century. They have kept up their vigils in the -Holy Land, and in general have made a notable progress.</p> - -<p>The inventions of the age have been beneficial by -opening up new lands and by making transit easy and -rapid, thus recalling some of the conditions which conduced<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_459">459</a></span> -to the original spread of the religion of Jesus. -A multitude of noble souls have devoted all to the enlightenment -of the barbarian and pagan world. And -while I disparage no land, and do not undervalue the -good intentions and efforts of those outside our pale, -I cannot pass over in silence the French nation, which -has given more abundantly than any, perhaps more -abundantly than all others, of priests, sisters, and funds -for the essential duty of Catholicism. The work of the -Propagation of the Faith and the Seminary of Foreign -Missions at Paris deserve a special souvenir as often as -Catholic missions are mentioned.</p> - -<h3>THE POPES OF THE CENTURY</h3> - -<p>Six Popes ruled the Church in the nineteenth century: -Pius VII., Leo XII., Pius VIII., Gregory XVI., Pius IX., -and the present venerable pontiff, Leo XIII. In the person -of Pius VII. they have known what martyrdom was -like, also the shame and humiliation of being subject to -a civil power absolute in its character and prone to unwarrantable -interference with the ecclesiastical power, -even to contempt of its most ancient and venerable rights. -In Gregory XVI. and Pius IX. they learned the purposes -and the power of those who in Europe have succeeded -to the men of the French Revolution. In Leo XIII. -their line, the oldest line of rulers on the earth, can boast -of a most enlightened mind and a very sympathetic -heart. Long time a bishop of an important see before -he was made Pope, he has been at the level of every task -imposed upon the Papacy.</p> - -<p>In a particular manner he has been the patron of ecclesiastical -studies, by his scholarly encyclicals on philosophy, -Scripture, history, and other branches of learning. -A noble specimen of this activity is his late letter to the -bishops of France on the studies of the clergy. His<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_460">460</a></span> -spirit is the Christian spirit of reconciliation and concord, -yet without sacrifice of the immemorial rights and -the solemn obligations of the Apostolic See. He may -not live to see the restoration of his independence, and -the reparation of the wrong inflicted upon the Holy See, -but he can maintain a protest that will forever invalidate -among Catholics the claim of the actual government -and keep open the Roman question until it is rightly -settled.</p> - -<p>Catholics cannot forget that the Pope for the time -being is, according to Catholic doctrine, the successor -of Saint Peter in all his rights and privileges as the -visible head of the Church, appointed by Jesus Himself. -Hence, among other duties, he has to safeguard the -approved traditions and the general legislation of the -past, to protect the status of the Church as given over -to him, and to hand it down undiminished to his own -successor. Precisely because he is the head of the Church -he may not licitly alter its organic and regular life, or -arbitrarily abandon the almost sacrosanct ways along -which his predecessors have moved, or give up lightly -the institutions in which religion has gradually found -a setting for itself.</p> - -<p>I venture to say that this element of fixity in the -attitude of the Apostolic See will be more appreciated -in another age, more constructive and architectonic -than the past, less querulous and destructive, even if -less daring and brilliant. Forever to pull down and -scatter, and never to build up and perfect, cannot be -the final purpose of human society. It is perhaps -worth remarking that the average reign of the Popes -was much longer in the nineteenth century than in -any other, being over sixteen years, and that two -successive reigns, those of Pius IX. and Leo XIII., -represent fifty-four continuous years of Church government -at Rome, a phenomenon not witnessed since<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_461">461</a></span> -the foundation of that Church by Saint Peter and Saint -Paul.</p> - -<h3>THE CATHOLIC HIERARCHY</h3> - -<p>During this century the Holy Father has been able to -restore the Catholic hierarchy in England, Scotland, -Holland, and to create it anew in India. This means the -orderly management of the works and the purposes of -the Catholic religion, since the episcopate is the divinely -instituted organ for its spread and its administration. -In many lands a numerous episcopate has sprung -up. In our own beloved country it has grown almost at -the rate of one see for every year of the century. The -apostolic activity of the episcopate has been usually -beyond reproach. The care of souls, the creation of -parishes, building of churches, convents, schools, and -charitable institutions has gone on in every diocese of -the Catholic world. Some bishops have distinguished -themselves by their sanctity of life and their love for -the poor; others by their learning and their skill in -their writing works of utility for the faithful; others -by their holy martyrdoms, both in pagan and Christian -lands; others by devotion to great works of common -charity and utility—nearly all by their exemplary -lives and the conscientious performance of their -duties.</p> - -<p>No nation has a monopoly of this outpouring of the -highest sacerdotal devotion; and no nation or people, -as far as I can learn, has been without a steady succession -of remarkable bishops, men who would have -done honor to any age of Christian history. I believe -that it is the constant and edifying service of the episcopal -body which is chiefly responsible for the improvement -in learning, morality, and laborious enlightened zeal on -the part of the clergy, diocesan and monastic, which it -seems just to claim for the nineteenth century. In some<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_462">462</a></span> -lands the episcopal office is freer than in others, and its -beneficent activity is more immediate and visible. In -all the bishops have kept the bond of unity, often at no -inconsiderable sacrifice of personal comfort. Neither -schism nor heresy of any formal and noteworthy nature -has been connected with the episcopal office. It would -ill become me to discriminate where the merits are so -equal. I may, however, be permitted to rejoice with my -countrymen at the end of the century that the life and -the teachings of a Carroll, a Cheverus, a Bruté a Neumann, -a Dubois, have not been without salutary effect, -and have set a shining mark for the imitation of all coming -generations. Particularly have such men inculcated -habitual courtesy and charity in dealing with all -those who did not share the faith of Catholics. They -were fresh from the storms of foreign religious hatred -and infidel intolerance, and knew by personal experience -the benefit of mutual good understanding and personal -respect.</p> - -<p>In the United States, particularly, the Catholic episcopate -has been very active in providing for the most fundamental -spiritual needs of their flocks—churches for -religious services, priests for the administration of sacraments, -schools for the preservation of the revealed Christian -faith, orphanages for the little waifs and castaways -of society. Whether short or long, the periods of government -of these Church rulers have never been idle nor -marked by self-indulgence. Almost every one has left -some monument of faith as a contribution to the general -good of Catholicism. I would neither exaggerate nor -boast, yet it occurs to me, after many years of service, -travel, and observation, that few ages of Christianity -can show a more laborious and elevated episcopate than -the nineteenth century.</p> - -<p>The recruiting of the diocesan clergy has been the -gravest duty of this episcopate, for religion lives by and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_463">463</a></span> -for men. It can get along without wealth or monuments, -but not without intelligent teachers of its tenets and -faithful observers of its precepts. In keeping with the decrees -of the Council of Trent diocesan seminaries have -been opened where it was possible, and elsewhere provincial -institutions of a similar character. Both flourish -in the United States, and grow more numerous with -every decade. The older clergy, long drawn from the -venerable schools of Europe, have left a sweet odor -among us, the purest odor of self-sacrificing lives, of -devotion to poor and scattered flocks, of patient, uncomplaining -contentment with the circumstances of -poverty and humility. There is no diocese in the United -States where there cannot be heard tales of the hardships -and brave lives of the ecclesiastics who laid the -foundations of religion. We remember them always, -and hold their names in benediction. The younger -generation of our clergy enjoys advantages denied to -their predecessors; but we consider that they owe it to -those predecessors if they have a degree of leisure to perfect -the culture of their minds, and a faithful Catholic -people to ask for the benefits which must accrue from -greater learning, if it be solid and well directed.</p> - -<p>Yet I cannot admit that our older clergy were deficient -in the learning of the schools. The names of England -and Corcoran are at once on our lips, not to speak of a long -array of others almost equally entitled to distinguished -mention. If the external conditions of the diocesan -clergy have improved, their relations to the Church authority -have been safeguarded with even greater earnestness -and efficiency. The dispositions of synods, provincial -councils, and the three plenary councils of Baltimore -have, we are happy to say, had little to do with -questions of doctrine. They have all been held for the -improvement of discipline and notably for the welfare -of the clergy. In the same direction, also, have tended<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_464">464</a></span> -the numerous decisions and instructions from the Roman -congregations, whose wisdom has never been invoked -by us in vain, and whose sympathy for our conditions -we gratefully acknowledge.</p> - -<h3>THE CONGREGATION OF THE PROPAGANDA</h3> - -<p>Any account of the good influence of the Holy See on -our ecclesiastical conditions would be unjust and incomplete -if the Congregation of the Propaganda Fide -were omitted. To it we owe an unceasing surveillance, -full of prudence and intelligence. From its offices have -come to the bishops regularly counsel, warning, encouragement, -co-operation. It has been eminently just -and fair, also fearless in the application of the principles, -the spirit, and the letter of canonical discipline. Its -action is a calm and grave one, marked by reticence and -patience and that composure which belongs to the highest -judicial decisions. But the Catholic Church in the -United States and in Canada owes it an undisputed -debt of gratitude. The most learned cardinals of the -century and the best ecclesiastical talent have co-operated -in the creation of its legislation, which need not -fear the criticism of any learned and honest judicial -body of men.</p> - -<h3>RELIGIOUS ORDERS AND COMMUNITIES</h3> - -<p>In the religious orders and communities the Catholic -Church possesses a very ancient auxiliary force that -has rendered incalculable help during the century. By -their numbers, their strong inherited traditions, their -central government, their willing obedience, and their -other resources they have come everywhere to the aid of -the bishops and the diocesan clergy. Often they bore -alone and for a long time, and at great sacrifices, the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_465">465</a></span> -whole burden of religion. Their praise is rightly on all -sides, and their works speak for them, when their modesty -and humility forbid them to praise themselves. -The missions of Catholicism in this century, as in others, -have largely fallen to them. They stood in the breach -for the cause of education when the churches were too -poor and few to open colleges. They have given countless -missions and retreats, and in general have not spared -themselves when called upon for works of general utility. -They and their works are of the essence of Catholicism, -and they ought rightly to flourish in any land where -they are free to live according to the precepts and the -spirit of their founders, who are often canonized saints -of the Catholic Church.</p> - -<p>I shall not be saying too much when I assert that -among the invaluable services rendered to the Church -by Catholic women of all conditions of life—no unique -thing in the history of Catholicism—those rendered by -the women of religious communities are of the first rank -of merit. Primary Catholic education, in the United -States, at least, would have been almost impossible -without their devotion. It is owing to them that the -orphans have been collected and cared for, the sick housed -and sheltered, the poor and helpless and aged, the crippled -and the blind, looked after regularly and lovingly. -They surely walk in the footsteps of Jesus, doing good -wherever they go. The perennial note of sanctity in -the Catholic Church shines especially in them. Content -with food and clothing and shelter, they devote -their lives, often in the very flower of youth and health -and beauty, to the weak and needful members of Christian -society. He must needs be a Divine Master who -can so steadily charm into His service the purest and -the most affectionate of hearts, and cause them to put -aside deliberately for love of Him even the most justifiable -of human attachments. This argument for Christianity<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_466">466</a></span> -is not new; it was urged by Saint Justin the -Martyr on the libertine world of the Antonines.</p> - -<h3>THE UNITY OF CHRISTENDOM</h3> - -<p>Throughout this century the Roman Church has desired -and sought by all practical means the restoration -of the former unity of Christendom. Each succeeding -Pope has appealed to the ancient but separated Churches -of the Orient, reminding them of the past oneness and -the need of union with that see which all their records -proclaim the rock and centre of unity. Similarly, appeals -have been issued to the divided Christian communities -of the West, as when Pius IX. wrote to the members -of the Protestant world before the Vatican Council, -and when Leo XIII. lately addressed his famous encyclical -on the Unity of the Church to all men of good will -within the Anglican pale. Such efforts may seem perfunctory; -but they have in our eyes a deep meaning. -They proclaim the doctrine of unity that is clearer than -the noonday sun from the teachings of Jesus; they -make a first step in the direction of its restoration; they -keep alive the spirit of charity in many hearts, and they -stir up countless prayers for the consummation of an -end that few believing Christians any longer consider -unnecessary. Already the canker-worms of doubt and -indifference are gnawing at those last foundations of -the old inherited Christian religious beliefs that still -worked beneficently outside the pale of Catholic unity, -but are now disappearing from the public consciousness -because, too often, they are no longer elements of private -conviction. In the realm of faith, as in that of nature, -there is an after-glow, when the central sun has spent -its force; but in both that glow is the herald of coldness -and darkness. To those who no longer allow in their -hearts any Christian belief, Catholicism has strongly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_467">467</a></span> -appealed in the nineteenth century by its teachings on -the right use of reason in matters of faith, the claims -of religion on the mind and the heart of man, the -benefits of Christianity, and its superiority over all -other forms of religion—in a word, by the constant -exposé of all the motives of credibility which could -affect a sane and right mind that had divested itself -of prejudice and passion.</p> - -<h3>CONVERSIONS TO CATHOLICISM</h3> - -<p>Not the least remarkable share of the history of Catholicism -is seen in the stream of conversions that began -in the very stress of the French Revolution and has not -ceased to flow since then. From every land of the Old -and New Worlds hundreds of thousands have returned -of their own volition to the ancient fold wherein we firmly -believe is kept the sacred deposit of saving truth. They -have come to us from the pulpits of opposing religions -and from the workshops of an unbelieving science. -Every condition of life, and both sexes, have sent us numerous -souls. Very many of these conversions have -been unsolicited and unexpected. Some of them meant -an accession of wealth or social prestige or high rank. -Others brought with them the beloved tribute of uncommon -intelligence, experience of life and men, acquired -erudition, the highest gifts of style and oratory. -Very many have come from the middle walks of life, -and signified no more than a great weariness of pursuing -shadows for the reality of divine truth, and the excessive -goodness of the Holy Spirit of God which bloweth -where it listeth. Of this army of converts some have -been drawn by the conviction that the Bible alone, without -an interpreter and a witness divinely guaranteed, -could not suffice as a rule of faith. Others have been -moved by the incarnation in the Church of the spirit<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_468">468</a></span> -and functions of authority without which no society -can exist. Still others have come back to the Mother -of all churches, through a deep heart-weariness at the -endless dilapidation of divine truth outside the Roman -Church. Some have sought and found through the -study of history the open door to the truth. Others again -through the study of art and its functions in the Christian -Church. In whatever way they returned to the -unity of the original sheepfold, they are an eloquent -witness to the innate vigor and the immortal charm of -the Christian truth as preserved in Catholicism. For -they have come in unconditionally. Their return has -worked beneficially, not only for themselves, but for -those of the Catholic faith, whom it has consoled and -encouraged for their steadfastness, while the non-Catholic -world cannot but feel that that religion is worthy -of respect, even of study, which can forever draw so -many men and women out of the ranks of its adversaries, -even at the sacrifice of many things which are usually -held dear by society.</p> - -<h3>THE RELATIONS WITH CIVIL AUTHORITY</h3> - -<p>Being a genuine and world-wide religion, Catholicism -could not but come into contact with the powers in which -rests the social authority.</p> - -<p>In many cases the fundamental relations of both have -been settled by documents of a <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">quasi</i> constitutional -character known as concordats. They are binding on -both parties, yet in more than one case the supreme authority -of Catholicism has had reason to complain of -their violation either in letter or in spirit.</p> - -<p>Important points like the freedom of episcopal elections, -the management of ecclesiastical revenues, the freedom -of access to and communication with the Holy See, have -been tampered with or openly abolished. In a general<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_469">469</a></span> -way Catholics are far from being content with the actual -administration of these <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">quasi</i> treaties between the civil -and the ecclesiastical powers in the Old World and in -South America—yet they respect them and desire to -live up to their requirements. It is to be hoped that in -the new century there will be less suspicion of the truly -beneficent intentions of the Church, and less hampering -of the common organs of her existence and work. In a -century filled with revolutions as no other the Catholic -Church has comported herself with dignity and equity, -and managed to find the correct <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">via media</i> in this great -tangle of opposing and mutually destructive forms and -theories of government.</p> - -<h3>THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND THE UNITED STATES</h3> - -<p>In our own beloved country we have every reason to -be thankful that the liberty to worship God according -to the dictates of conscience is guaranteed by the Constitution, -and has entered deeply into the convictions -of our fellow-citizens. The Catholic Church, by her own -constitution, is deeply sympathetic with our national -life and all that it stands for. She has thrived in the -atmosphere of liberty, and seeks only the protection of -the common law, that equal justice which is dealt out -to all. She is the oldest historical and continuous government -on the earth, and it is no small index of the value -of our institutions and their durability that they make -provision for the life and the work of so vast and so aged -a society. It would also seem to show that, through a long -course of centuries, Catholicism held as its own genuine -political teachings only such as were finally compatible -with the most perfect and universal citizenship known -to history.</p> - -<p>When this nation was forming, the first Catholic -bishop in the United States, and my first predecessor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_470">470</a></span> -in the see of Baltimore, John Carroll, accepted and -performed satisfactorily the gravest public duty of a -citizen, an embassy to another people for the benefit -of his own country. Thereby he left to us all an example -and a teaching that we shall ever cherish, the -example of self-sacrifice as the prime duty of every citizen, -and the teaching that patriotism is a holy conviction -to which no Catholic, priest or layman, can hold -himself foreign or apathetic.</p> - -<p>A Catholic layman of the same distinguished family, -Charles Carroll of Carrollton, threw in his lot with the -patriots from the beginning, and by word and deed served -the cause of American liberty, while he lived to see it -flourish and inform more and more the minds and hearts -of the first generation of American citizens. In future -centuries, as in this, his name will be held in honor -and benediction as a signer of the Declaration of Independence. -His Catholic belief and conduct will forever -be a potent encouragement to the children of his own -faith. He was the first layman to contribute notably -to the cause of Catholic education, and the native formation -of the priesthood, by the establishment of a college -for that purpose.</p> - -<h3>THE CATHOLIC CHURCH AND EDUCATION</h3> - -<p>We have done our best in these ten decades to provide -the best education for our people and our priests. Intimately -convinced that general education without religion -is destined to be an evil rather than a blessing, -we have created all over the United States a system of -primary education in parochial schools that has cost us -and yet costs us the gravest sacrifices and entails the -heaviest solicitudes. Yet we feel that we are serving -the cause of God and country by indoctrinating our Catholic -youth with persuasions of the existence of God<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_471">471</a></span> -and His holy attributes, of the true nature of vice and -virtue, of conscience and sin, of the spiritual and the -temporal, of the proper purposes of life, of punishment -and reward in an immortal life. We believe that Christianity -is better than paganism; also that Christianity -is something simple, positive, historical, that can and -ought to be taught from the cradle to the grave, good -for all conditions, for both sexes, and for every situation -in life this side of the common grave. Believing this, -we have shaped our conduct accordingly, and trust to -God for the issue. In such matters it imports more to -be right in principle than to be successful. Our secondary -system of education has gone on from the founding -of the Republic. Colleges for boys and academies for -girls have risen up in every State and Territory, have -been supported by the faithful people, and are doing an -incalculable good. As our means increase and other -advantages offer, we hope to improve them; Catholicism -is no stagnant pool, but a field for every good private -initiative that respects right and truth. In the Catholic -University of America, founded in the last decade of -the century by Pope Leo XIII. and the Catholic hierarchy, -after due and lengthy deliberation, and made possible -by the magnificent generosity of a Catholic woman, we -have centred our hopes of a system of higher education -that shall embody the best traditions of our ancient -Church and the approved gains of our own times. American -Catholics have not disposed in the past of great -wealth, inherited or earned; hence all these works mean -an incredible devotion and intensity of good will and -sustained sacrifices. Wherever the Catholic Church has -been strong and successful, schools of every kind flourish. -I need only recall the fact that the idea, the constitution, -the functions, the influences of a university -were unknown in the world until she created the type -in the Middle Ages, and gave over to mankind a new<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_472">472</a></span> -factor in civil and religious life—the power of organized -learning.</p> - -<h3>THE SOCIAL MOVEMENT</h3> - -<p>Through the whole century one line of thought and -action has been gradually disengaging itself from all -others and dominating them. That is the social movement, -or the tendency towards a more evenly just and -natural conception of all the relations that arise from -the common dwelling of mankind in organized society. -It has long taken the form of institutions and plans for -the betterment of the conditions of the people, of woman, -of all who suffer or think they suffer from the actual organization -of society. If there is something Utopian -in certain plans or hopes, there is too much that is justifiable -at the root of other attempts to reorganize our social -conditions. Not to speak of the undesirable inheritances -of the past, the new conditions created for the -common man by the spread of industrialism and commercialism -have often been painful in the extreme, and -have aroused both violent protests and deep sympathy. -By the help of God we have abolished the reproach of -slavery in every civilized land, but we hear from the -laboring multitudes a vague cry that they are already -in the throes of a return to that accursed institution.</p> - -<p>Here the doctrines of Catholicism are eminently in -accord with the right conception of human nature, the -functions of authority and mutual help or charity, the -duty to live, and the right to all the necessary means for -that end. She is sympathetic, historically and naturally, -to the toiling masses, who, after all, form everywhere -the bulk of her adherents, and have been always the most -docile and affectionate of her members. It is she who -created in the world the practical working idea of a common -humanity, the basis of all genuine social improvement. -The trials of Catholicism have come more often<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_473">473</a></span> -from the luxury and the sin of those in high places than -from the disaffection of its great masses. As this movement -has gathered force, and passed from theories into -the domain of action, the Catholic Church, through her -head, has followed it with attention and respect. The -whole pontificate of Leo XIII. is remarkable for acts and -documents which have passed into the history of social -endeavor in the nineteenth century. His personal -charities, large and enlightened, are as nothing in comparison -with the far-reaching acts like the refusal to condemn -the association of the Knights of Labor. His encyclical -on the Condition of Workingmen recalls the -only possible lines of a final concord between labor and -capital—the spirit and teachings of Jesus Christ, the best -Friend our common humanity ever had. In the same -way, his latest encyclical on Jesus Christ, with which the -religious history of the century closes, emphasizes the -true basis for the restoration of peace and harmony and -justice between the poor and the rich, between the producers -of capital and the capital that stimulates and -regulates production. We may be confident that the -papacy of the future will not show less enlightenment -and sympathy in its attempts to solve these delicate and -grave problems with the least injustice and the greatest -charity.</p> - -<h3>LIGHTS AND SHADOWS</h3> - -<p>It would be idle to deny or to palliate the many shadows -that fall across the history of Catholicism in the -century that has elapsed. I scarcely need refer to the -weaknesses and errors of her individual children: such -acts she repudiates, and when she can chastises remedially. -But the Church has not recovered that vast -inherited moral power over the public life which it enjoyed -before the French Revolution. In many ways -the consequences of atheism, materialism, and even of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_474">474</a></span> -deism, have been deduced into manners and institutions, -to the detriment of the ancient Christian morality. The -sterner Christian virtue of previous centuries, founded -on the Christian revelation, has been forced out of the -public life of whole peoples. Expediency, opportunism, -moral cowardice have often triumphed over the plain -right and the fair truth. The principle has been established -that God is on the side of the great battalions, is -ever with the strong men of blood and iron. Ancient -and venerable sovereignties have been hypocritically -dispossessed. Small nationalities have been erased -from the world’s political map, and the history of the -near past almost justifies the rumors of impending steps -in the same direction. With the increase of greatness in -states comes an increase of warlike perils, not only from -commercial rivalry, but from that root of ambition and -domination which grows in every heart, unless checked -and subdued in time, and which in the past has been too -often the source of violent injustice on the greatest scale.</p> - -<p>These deeds and principles we believe to be a necessary -result of naturalism, of the exclusion of the supernatural -and revealed elements of Christianity from our public -life, and not only these, but others of a graver character, -that must one day follow from their logical and unchecked -evolution. Divorce, a cause of ruin in every -land, grows with rapidity in many civilized nations, so -much so that not only Catholicism, its inveterate enemy, -is shocked, but Christian men of every persuasion believe -that some public and authoritative steps ought to -be taken to prevent the pollution of the family life, that -fixed and natural source of public morality. Religion -has been officially thrust out of the systems of education, -in every grade, and the young mind taught that it is -quite a private and unimportant thing. Thus, under -the plea of indifference, many States have practically -made themselves the champions of that agnosticism<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_475">475</a></span> -which is the arch-enemy not only of religion, but also -of patriotism from time immemorial connected with religion. -The average man soon ceases to make great -sacrifices, above all to die for the public good, when he -is satisfied that there is no other life, or that it is not -worth while living for the uncertainties of approval and -reward by an eternal God, who is just and true and holy.</p> - -<h3>REASONS FOR ENCOURAGEMENT</h3> - -<p>On the other hand, the Catholic man or woman knows -that there are great spiritual forces at work in the world, -however unhappily its public life may be developing -from the view-point of Christian morality. There are -innumerable lives guided by the principles of Christian -virtue, some of them even culminating in the highest -sanctity. Though not all such are known to men, yet -not a few become public examples and incitements to -virtue. Even outside of the Catholic faith there are not -a few who regulate their lives by the natural virtues -and also by inherited Christian virtues that work sometimes -unconsciously, but whose practice can only be -pleasing to our common Father. Sweet Charity is yet -a queen in Christian lands; her services and utility are -too great to permit her dethronement. Great misfortunes -of any kind still touch the hearts of men that are -Christian yet when their minds have become clouded -by indifference to, or dislike of, the supernatural verities. -Luxury and wealth, greater perhaps than the world has -yet seen, are still conscious of duties to the common -weal. Educational institutions of every character and -philanthropical enterprises of every variety have flourished -on the means thus provided. But from our point -of view it is better that all such phenomena, to be lasting, -should have their root and origin in Christian purposes -and belief. It is yet true, as it was of old on the hill-sides<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_476">476</a></span> -of Judæa: “Except the Lord build the house, they labor -in vain that build it. Except the Lord keepeth the city, -he watcheth in vain that keepeth it.” (Psalm 126.)</p> - -<h3>THE FUTURE OF CATHOLICISM</h3> - -<p>We entertain no doubt that the organization which -has weathered the storms and stress of so many centuries -will continue to do so in the future. The Catholic -Church has the promises of her Divine Founder that -the gates of hell shall not prevail against her. How -could she doubt of her future? It does not seem likely -that any vicissitudes can arise which have not their -counterpart or analogy in the past, so old is she on this -earth, and so many are the forms of government and -the kinds of human culture with which she has lived. -We are confident that she will be equal to all the emergencies -of the future, for while the Church is always -identical with and present to herself in a conscious way, -her children and her agents may grow in experience and -wisdom, as they undoubtedly do, and may bring both of -these factors to bear upon the future problems of our common -humanity. Of one thing we may feel certain: she -will never cease to desire and to work for that efficacious -unity of all Christendom, which is the permanent wish of -its Holy Founder, and for which her bishops and priests -have never ceased to pray in those opening words of the -Roman Canon of the Mass that we repeat daily: “Therefore, -O Most Clement Father, we suppliantly pray to Thee -through Jesus Christ Our Lord... especially for Thy -Holy Catholic Church, which mayst Thou vouchsafe to -pacify, keep, unite, and govern throughout the world.”</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">James, Card. Gibbons.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_477">477</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="PROTESTANTISM"></a>PROTESTANTISM</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> motives which have acted upon religion in the -nineteenth century, either by way of directly enhancing -its power or by restricting its influence, are -these: (1) Humanitarianism; (2) The Historical Spirit; -(3) Science; (4) Nationalism. Although the course of -religious history has varied somewhat in different countries -as well as in the different Churches, yet it is possible -to form an approximate picture of the resultant of these -forces which will reveal the progress of the Kingdom of -God in the world.</p> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>The first of these motives—humanitarianism—has -powerfully influenced the Christian world by asserting -the rights of man, liberty, equality and the spirit of -fraternity, the sense of human brotherhood. The germs -of the humanitarian movement may be traced in the -eighteenth century, as in the teaching of Lessing and -Herder and Rousseau; in religious movements like the -Great Awakening in the United States, the revival in -England under Wesley and Whitefield, in tentative -efforts for the abolition of slavery (Hopkins and Clarkson), -and prison reform (John Howard). But the nineteenth -century has been distinguished above all the -other Christian centuries in the results achieved by -the sentiment of humanity. It has led to the abolition -of slavery under English rule, in the United States, and -in Russia; to many reform movements of every kind and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_478">478</a></span> -degree, wherever there existed actual or latent tyranny, -which robbed humanity of its inherent privileges.</p> - -<p>The humanitarian sentiment is Christian in its origin, -derived primarily from the conviction of the incarnation -of God in Christ. Christ appears in history as the leader -of humanity in the struggle for freedom. Slowly but -surely ever since His advent, the world of man has been -moving forward to the attainment of the ideal of humanity -revealed in Him. “Ye shall know the truth and the -truth shall make you free. And if the Son of God shall -make you free, ye shall be free indeed.” The progress -towards freedom inspired by Him who taught the fatherhood -of God and the brotherhood of men has been accomplished -in the face of great hinderances and long -reverses, overcoming obstacles which would have been -insuperable without Christian faith. In the nineteenth -century the movement towards human freedom seems -almost to have reached its culmination. Within the -sphere of religion the progress is most manifest in the -spread of Christian missions, which stand out in any -review of the century as one of its most extraordinary -achievements. It might be justly designated as a missionary -age. So intense and persistent has been its -devotion to the gospel of Christ as essential for man -that when the century closed it might be truly said that -the round world had been girdled with Christian missions, -whose results are more significant for civilization, -as well as for religion, than any statistics can reveal. -The missionary has been the pioneer, it is becoming increasingly -evident, of momentous changes yet to appear.</p> - -<p>The sentiment of humanity has operated as a motive -in the study of human history, giving to historical inquiry -a new interest and impetus. No age has been -so fruitful in the results of historical research, with -conclusions of vital importance for every department -of life, but chiefly this, that an independent place has<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_479">479</a></span> -been vindicated for humanity, as having a life of its -own distinct from and above the natural order of the -physical world. The study of man as he appears in -history has tended to strengthen faith in the essential -truths of religion, opening up as it has done the deeper -knowledge of the nature of man to which the religion -of Christ appeals; for the modern method of studying -history, as compared with earlier methods, consists -in seeking for those inward subjective moods of the -human soul which lie beneath creeds or institutions, -and not solely in the accurate description of the objective -fact. The facts of human life call for interpretation, -and for this the historian must search. Thus has been -born what is almost a new department of inquiry—the -philosophy of history (Hegel and many others). Differ -as do these attempts at a philosophy of history, they -yet possess one ruling idea—the conviction of a development -in the life of humanity when viewed as a whole. -The idea of development controlled the higher intellectual -life of the first half of the century. It was applied with -important results to the study of ecclesiastical history, -by Schleiermacher, Neander, Gieseler, Baur, Rothe, Bunsen, -and many others, by the Roman Catholic Möhler, -in his <cite>Symbolik</cite>, and by John Henry Newman, in however -one-sided and imperfect manner. The doctrine -of development found its classic formula in the lines -of Tennyson:</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Yet, I doubt not through the ages<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One increasing purpose runs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thoughts of men are widened<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the process of the suns.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>The influence of the doctrine of development has been -felt in the study of Scripture, leading to a recognition -of progressiveness in the divine revelation, whose record -has been preserved in the Old and New Testaments<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_480">480</a></span> -(Mozley, <cite>Ruling Ideas in the Early Ages</cite>). By means -of this truth have been overcome, till they now seem -unworthy, the objections to the Old Testament on the -ground that it gave sanction to cruelty, deceit, or an imperfect -morality. But the inference has also followed -that the revelation of God to humanity must be searched -for in the sacred records, and even by the light of close -critical scrutiny, if the divine utterance is to be distinguished -from crude misapprehensions or misapplications. -Forms of literary expression, current usages, -the historical environment of the time—for these allowance -must be made as their influence is recognized. -The science of biblical criticism has gained from the -study of general history a larger knowledge of the nature -of man, which, in turn, has made the study of the Bible -more profound and thorough, because more real and -human than were the biblical studies of the eighteenth -century. The primary question which it has been found -necessary to ask in regard to any doctrine or institution -is not whether it is true—for the canons of truth may -vary with the relative position of the inquirer; but, rather, -what does it mean? When the meaning of the record -is seen, the question of its truth has answered itself.</p> - -<p>The effect of these studies, even of what is called the -“higher criticism,” has not lessened the authority of -the Bible or changed the character of Christianity as -“a religion of the book”; but their tendency has been -to vindicate the unique and essential place of the Bible -in literature as containing the veritable record of a divine -revelation. Some things, indeed, have been changed: -the order in which the books of the Bible were written -is not the order in which they stand; some of them are -of composite authorship, whose various parts were written -at different times; the traditional chronology, known -as Ussher’s (1656), has been abandoned, nor is there -anything in the Bible which places it in opposition to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_481">481</a></span> -the teachings of geology relative to the length of time -during which man has occupied the earth; the historical -order of priest and prophet has been reversed, so that -the voice of prophecy comes before the decline into ritual -(Wellhausen and others). Popular misapprehensions -tend to vanish in the light of a true insight and interpretation, -such as that the first chapter of Genesis was -intended to be an infallible record of the divine order in -the creation of the world. That a similar account of -the creation is found in Babylonian literature only shows -that the Bible writer was illustrating by the best scientific -knowledge of the time the vastly higher spiritual truth -with which the Bible opens, that the creation is the work -of God, thus leading man to the worship of God and away -from the lower worships of sun and moon and all the -hosts of Heaven.</p> - -<p>The mechanical conceptions as to the mode of inspiration -and revelation tend to give way before a larger and -truer conception of the process by which the revelation -is made—that God speaks to man actually and authoritatively -through the experience of the events of life. Thus -revelation becomes a living process, and all later history -may become a commentary on sacred history, renewing -and confirming the primal utterance of God to the soul -of man. Much, it is true, yet remains to be done in -bridging the gulf between the learned and scientific -interpretation of the sacred record and the popular apprehension, -which, formed in the uncritical moments -of youth, often persists to mature years and constitutes -a source of confusion and weakness. A similar situation -was seen in the Middle Ages in the wide breach -which existed between the scholastic theologians and -the popular mind.</p> - -<p>A new department has been added to religious inquiry -in Comparative Religion, which aims at an impartial -investigation and free from prejudice, and is also moved<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_482">482</a></span> -by the sentiment of a common humanity to respect all -utterances of religious feeling in the soul of man. How -widely the nineteenth century has advanced in this -respect is seen by recalling a statement of Dr. Johnson: -“There are two objects of curiosity—the Christian world -and the Mohammedan world. All the rest may be considered -as barbarous.” One of the most representative -monuments of religious scholarship in the last century -is Professor Max Müller’s <cite>Sacred Books of the East</cite>. -Some inquirers in this unfamiliar department have -worked under the impression that these ancient religions -were equal in value to the Christian revelation; others -even have thought them to be in some respects superior. -And, in general, the first effect of the discovery that there -was truth in other religions had a tendency to weaken -the claim of Christianity to be the absolute religion. -But as the results of the study have been placed in their -normal perspective, it becomes evident that they only -confirm the words of St. Paul, that God has at no time -left Himself without witnesses in the world. Revelation -also is seen to have been a universal process; and profound -spiritual motives are to be discerned beneath the -diverse manifestations of the religious instincts. Yet, -on the whole, the preponderating judgment leads to the -conclusion that Christianity contains the larger, even -the absolute, truth; that while it confirms some features -in these religions as true, it condemns others as false; -that Christianity also has for one of its essential characteristics -an assimilative power, which not only enables, -but forces, it to appropriate as its own any aspects of -truth contained in other religions, which have not hitherto -been illustrated in the history of the Christian Church. -Nor is the familiar test applied to religions wholly indefensible -which judges them by their historical fruits -or associations. In accordance with this test, Confucianism -is represented by China, Hinduism by India,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_483">483</a></span> -Buddhism by Ceylon and Siam, Mohammedanism by -Turkey, Christianity by Europe and America.</p> - -<p>The influence of the humanitarian sentiment may be -further traced in softening the asperities of some forms -of traditional theology, as, for example, the Calvinistic -doctrine of election with its alternatives of reprobation -or preterition. These certainly have not been the favorite -doctrines which have commended themselves to the spirit -of the age. The effort has been made to bring the doctrine -of the atonement within the limits of human experience. -It has been found impossible to present the doctrine of -endless punishment after the manner of an earlier age. -Many causes have combined to deepen the sense of -mystery in which is enveloped the destiny of man, and -there has been begotten in consequence an unwillingness -to dogmatize where in earlier times such a reluctance -was not felt. In this connection may be mentioned two -religious bodies, which took their rise about the beginning -of the century—Universalism, proclaiming ultimate -salvation for all men; and Unitarianism, asserting the -dignity of man and his divine endowment. But in -all the Churches alike has the same humanizing force -been felt, leading to efforts in theological reconstruction -in order to make it apparent that the primary truths of -Christianity are not merely arbitrary principles or arrangements -unrelated to life and to the needs of the soul, -but that in their essential quality there is conformity -with the larger reason of humanity, with that feeling -for the inherent worth of things out of which reason -proceeds, and with which its conclusions must conform.</p> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>Thus far the humanitarian sentiment has been regarded -in its combination with Christian faith, and as -giving new force and distinction to Christian life and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_484">484</a></span> -thought. But, on the other hand, it must now be noted -that the same force working apart from the Church, and -often in opposition to it, has been a limitation to Christian -progress. In the French Revolution humanitarianism -was associated with a negative, destructive tendency, -which overthrew the Church, disowned God and immortality, -and set up in the place of deity a so-called Goddess -of Reason. This negative tendency has continued to -exist and has found influential manifestation. It has -attempted the deification of humanity, as though the -human race were worthy in itself of being an object of -worship. It has exalted man at the expense of God, -conceiving of humanity as alone immortal, as competent -to steer its own course without supernatural direction. -It has weakened the sense of nationality, has injured -and endangered family life, has taken away the highest -sanctions from morality, and has reduced religion from -being a revelation from God to a purely subjective process -in the soul of man, worthy of respect, but without authority. -It has created an abnormal sensitiveness in -many directions. It has swayed socialistic movements -aiming at the rights of man and seeking to achieve universal -happiness, but with an antagonism sometimes -latent, sometimes expressed, to God and Christ and -the Christian Church. The prejudice remains which -had its birth in the French Revolution, that religion is -a creation of priests for their own selfish ends, and the -Church an agency for robbing humanity of its rights, -liberty, equality, and fraternity.</p> - -<p>Principles and convictions like these found utterance -in the philosophy of Comte (1789–1857), who called -himself the “founder of the religion of humanity,” and -who proposed the scheme of a humanitarian Church, -limited by no national boundaries, whose only deity -was man, whose ritual found a place only for great men -who had been the benefactors of the race. Theology<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_485">485</a></span> -and metaphysics were discarded as outgrown methods -of explaining the phenomena of the universe, and in the -place they vacated stood the so-called “Positive philosophy” -which rejected all supernatural influence. The -Church of humanity had, indeed, no history and was a -failure from its birth. But the combination, first seen -in Comte, of humanitarianism with the methods and -principles of natural science, has been the most formidable -opponent against which Christianity was ever called -to struggle. It has been represented in England by -John Stuart Mill and by Herbert Spencer and many -others. To the influential writings of this school of -thinkers is due in great measure the widespread, deep-seated -scepticism since the middle of the century. To -the same cause, by way of reaction, are owing the spiritualistic -movement, the so-called “Christian Science” -and other kindred tendencies towards a crude supernaturalism.</p> - -<p>Those who entered the controversy in behalf of Christianity -and against the adherents of the Positive philosophy -suffered at first for the lack of any adequate -philosophical method on which to rest in the effort to -overcome this stupendous alliance between a humanitarianism -working for the improvement of social conditions -in combination with natural science, whose postulates -involved the denial of the miracle, and indeed of -all supernatural agency (agnosticism). It seemed for a -time as though the philosophy of Hegel would serve -the purpose of a stronghold to which Christian warriors -might resort while in the stress of a conflict which involved -not only the readjustment of Christian doctrines -to their new environment, but also the maintenance of -the idea of God, of the kingdom of God in this world and -of a future life for the immortal soul. In Germany -systems of theology were worked out on the basis of -Hegelian principles, which, as interpreted by orthodox<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_486">486</a></span> -theologians, stood for a principle of surpassing value if -it could be maintained—that the life of humanity, while -dependent in the present order on physical conditions, -was yet above the life in external nature with which the -natural sciences deal; that the very definition of humanity -implies the power of rising to the knowledge of God. -Nature has no knowledge or consciousness of God, or -intimation of immortality. It is in bondage to natural -law and without freedom. The life of humanity must -not be studied from the point of view of natural science, -but is seen in the records of human history. The influence -of Hegel deepened the interest in historical inquiry -at a moment when the absorption in the natural -sciences threatened to gain the ascendency. But the -Hegelian philosophy, for reasons which it is not possible -here to render, failed to accomplish the service expected -from it. It may be that the failure was temporary only, -and because it was not fully understood. There arose -a school of thinkers—the Hegelian left wing—who, while -retaining their interest in history, yet fell under the -influence of the presuppositions of the natural sciences. -Thus Strauss, in his <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Leben Jesu</cite>, conceived of the person -of Christ as a casual product of the human imagination, -while Feuerbach, in his <cite>Essence of Christianity</cite>, reached -the conclusion that religion begins and ends in a subjective -process in the soul. Thus, instead of overcoming -the Positive philosophy, German thought gravitated -to the same result, with this difference perhaps, that it -assumed the form of pantheism rather than of atheism. -In the Tübingen school, led by F. C. Baur, whose contributions -to the study of Church history are yet of -high value, there was reserve about the miracle, if not -its tacit denial, and a conception of the Christian Church -as a product of human origin rather than the purpose -of Christ.</p> - -<p>But the effect of Strauss was beneficial in that it sent<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_487">487</a></span> -inquirers back to the study of the person of Christ and -of His age. Never before was attention so concentrated -upon the life of Jesus, as illustrated in a large number -of biographical works, too large to be enumerated here. -As a result of these studies, the conviction grows that -while there is a local aspect of the person of Christ, so -that He reflected the peculiar opinions and living interests -of His age, and availed Himself of current beliefs, -yet He was also infinitely above His time. What He -was and did and said in Palestine nineteen hundred -years ago must be supplemented by what He has been -to the world in subsequent ages, or what He is and is -doing in the present age.</p> - -<p>While Christian thinkers were struggling with the -problems raised by the Positive philosophy, the natural -sciences were commanding in an increasing degree the -world’s attention, until Darwin made his great discovery -of a law of evolution, when it seemed as though natural -science had become the arbiter and final tribunal before -whose judgments the world must bow. Then there -followed the sharp, even bitter conflict between science -and theology, when scientific men whose lives had been -spent in devotion to the study of natural phenomena -were tempted to write expositions of religious history -in order to show the fallaciousness of the religious attitude, -and theologians, accustomed only to the postulates -of the spiritual sphere, ventured into the domain of -science to put a spiritual interpretation on its conclusions -and discoveries. It was a confusing and painful moment -when a subtle scepticism pervaded the Churches and -haunted even the minds of Christian believers. Now -that the smoke of the battle has cleared away, while -many tragedies are disclosed, it does not appear that -the Churches have been weakened by the strife or have -yielded any essential truth or conviction. The belief -in God, and in his creation and government of the world,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_488">488</a></span> -the incarnation of God in Christ, the miracle for which -Christ stands, and pre-eminently the miracle of His resurrection—in -a word, the supernatural interpretation -of life, remains unshaken. It is unjust to charge, as -has sometimes been done, dishonesty and a spirit of -evasion against those who, while the fierce battle was -in progress, kept silence, unable to defend by cogent -argument what yet they cherished still as true.</p> - -<p>In the latter part of the century there came efforts at -the reconstruction of theology in order to a better adjustment -of the increase of knowledge regarding the nature -of God and His relation to the world. The doctrine of -God as immanent in the world, and not only transcendent -or above and apart from it, has proved valuable in -reconciling many of the discoveries of history and of -natural science with the Christian faith. Efforts have -also been made to simplify theology by the reduction -of the large and complex, even conflicting, mass of Christian -tenets and beliefs, given in history or represented -in various Christian sects, to a few simple principles in -which all must agree, resting for their confirmation not -on metaphysics, but on the genuine Christian instincts -as revealed in the New Testament. There has been attained -also a better philosophical method for meeting -the difficulties and perplexities of the age.</p> - -<p>But these attempts at the better interpretation of revealed -religion, and the formation of more consistent -theological systems, have found a temporary rival in -efforts to create, first of all, a better system of “natural -theology,” as it may be called, which shall take account -of the doctrine of evolution and other discoveries of natural -science since Paley’s time and the day of the Bridgewater -Treatises. Those who aim at a reconciliation of -religion with science treat the idea of evolution as a -mediating principle by which the conflict between science -and religion may be overcome. This effort is the more<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_489">489</a></span> -significant, in view of the popular interest in evolution—a -word which has become almost the watchword of -the age. From this point of view the invasion of religious -territory by scientific men (Huxley, Tyndale, -Haeckel, and others), and the counter-invasion of scientific -territory by philosophers and theologians, give -promise of some mutual understanding in the future.</p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>It remains now to turn to another most potent motive -which has affected the fortunes of religion in the nineteenth -century. It may be called Nationalism, meaning -by the term that higher conception of the life of the state -or nation, slowly but most effectively asserting itself -throughout the nineteenth century, never apart from -religious convictions, always indeed in their support -and furtherance. In illustration of this point, we turn -again to the French Revolution, as giving the momentum, -both directly and by way of reaction, to the conception -of the sacredness of the state, as an ultimate fact in -God’s government of the world. In that fearful outburst -of the French people, their long pent-up indignation -was vented no less against the state than against -the Church—the one a device of kings and lawgivers for -holding mankind in subjection, as the other was a scheme -for the same end by a designing priesthood. The humanitarian -sentiment received in consequence at this impressive -moment a direction of antipathy to nationality -as an evil to be overcome, or at least to be kept in subjection -to some higher principle, if the rights of man -were to be secured. Something even of this negative -mood entered into the formation of the American Constitution, -where there is to be noted a singular omission -of any reference to Deity as the author and preserver of -the national life. On the continent of Europe there was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_490">490</a></span> -the phenomenon of Napoleon building on the ruins of -the French Revolution, while yet preserving the destructive -motives which inspired it. Napoleon revived the -dream of empire, in whose expansive embrace the nations -of Europe were to be subordinated, if not suppressed -altogether. He proposed to reconstruct the map of -Europe, as though nationalities and crowns were purely -human artificial arrangements to be disposed of at his -sovereign pleasure.</p> - -<p>The failure of the French nation, its demonstrated -inability to do the proper work of a state, as well as the -fact that the career of a Napoleon was possible, indicates -inherent weakness in all the nations of Europe at the -beginning of the nineteenth century. They existed -either in repose, and even stagnation, after the long -turmoil of the age of the Protestant Reformation, averse -to change, distrustful of enthusiasm, or were content -to strive for purely selfish aims. In accordance with -the principle that the people existed for the state, rulers -followed their personal whims, indifferent to moral sanctions, -heedless of the growing evils calling aloud for -redress. Such in particular was the condition in France. -It was better in England, but even there the same tendency -existed, manifested in the unnecessary alienation -of the American colonies. However this may be, there -has been a reaction against nationality during the nineteenth -century. The nations have been forced to struggle -against this opposition, and through the struggle -they have attained their rebirth, their purification.</p> - -<p>The subject is connected with the fortunes of religion -in many ways. The indifference to nationality, the -distrust of the nation as incompetent for the exigencies -of life, the placing of an abstract humanity as an ideal -above nationality, so that to labor directly for the interests -of humanity apart from the well-being of the nation, -and even in its defiance, became the motive of reformers—<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_491">491</a></span>these -characteristics, when seen in the religious sphere, -have led to a reaction against the various forms of Protestantism, -and especially as represented in the state -Churches. The Roman Catholic Church, which in all -its history has subordinated national distinctions to -the higher interests of a common Christendom, had fallen -into inefficiency in the eighteenth century, and was no -longer reckoned a force worthy of consideration, either -by religious thinkers or by statesmen. But in the first -third of the nineteenth century there came a change, -when the Roman Church arose from its lethargy to meet -the demand imposed upon it by the timid fears of statesmen -and ecclesiastics, as the safeguard of religion and -morality, where national Churches or particular Churches -were thought to have failed. The Napoleonic aspiration -after universal empire and the frantic effort to realize -it by rearranging or suppressing nationalities has its -counterpart in the religious world in the effort to restore -a Christian empire with the Papacy at its head, as in -the Middle Ages. The effect of this ambition may be -seen in Germany and other countries, but is most clearly -manifest in England, where the Oxford Movement (1833) -appears as an unnational, if not anti-national, uprising -in behalf of some imperfectly conceived cosmopolitan -Church designated as “Catholicity.” The date of the -“Movement,” as Newman fixed it, was Keble’s sermon -on the “Apostacy of the National Church.” This -same feeling, that national existence is inferior in importance -to humanitarian reforms or to the expression -of religion in some other shape than in any particular or -national Church, has been shown in the break with the -Established Church in Scotland, or in the difficulties -experienced in Germany in consolidating the forms of -Protestantism in a strong state Church, or in the aspirations -after some universal form of religion to be accomplished -by a parliament of religions. Beneath these<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_492">492</a></span> -various schemes there is the common principle that -humanity is a worthier object of devotion than the state, -and constitutes a higher ideal in whose cause to labor. -This conviction, it may be added, has been strengthened -vastly by the extraordinary way in which, during the -nineteenth century, the whole world has been brought -together by the material forces of steam and electricity.</p> - -<p>That there is here a great truth no one can deny, but -the point to be noticed now is that nationality has been -at a disadvantage in the competition with humanity. -Out of the necessities of the situation there has been born -the spirit of a deeper inquiry into the place and significance -of the nation as the indispensable medium by -which the highest result can be secured for the world -at large. Thus we have the studies in this direction of -German students, Hegel and Stahl, Trendelenburg and -Bluntschli, Maurice in England, and in America Mulford -in his book <cite>The Nation</cite>, all of them combating the -motive of Comte and setting forth the essential, even -the eternal, significance of nationality. The ancient -doctrine is still preserved that the people exist for the -state, but it is justified on the ground that the state also -exists for the people, for the freedom of the individual -man, so that through the state the rights of man are -better subserved and more securely guaranteed than by -an exclusive one-sided devotion to the cause of an abstract -humanity.</p> - -<p>As the nineteenth century drew to its close, it became -increasingly apparent that the nations had emerged -from the depression in which they were found when the -century opened. America may be said to have attained -the consciousness of nationality in its highest form in -consequence of the Civil War, and to have entered from -that time upon a new career. In that awful conflict, -whose origin dates back to the rise of the anti-slavery -movement, may be discerned the issue of the century—<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_493">493</a></span>humanitarianism, -on the one hand, contending for the -rights of man, careless, if need be, for the national unity -if only a great reform could be secured; and on the other -hand, the nation, slowly realizing that slavery was a -force hostile to national unity and integrity, and on this -ground demanding its suppression. The two attitudes -in this instance appear organically related, while yet -they spring from distinct and separate motives. In -1870 Germany and Italy took their places in the family -of nations. Nor should there be omission to mention -Greece, which, after its subsidence for hundreds of years, -again attained its national independence.</p> - -<p>It has become further apparent that it is to the Protestant -nations, America, England, and Germany, that the -leading place must be conceded, together with the determination -of the world’s fortunes. And to these must be -added Russia, which is also outside the pale of Latin -Christianity. Those nations remaining in alliance with -the Papacy are, for the present at least, in an inferior -position.</p> - -<p>The triumphant assertion of the spiritual significance -of nationality in the latter part of the nineteenth century -has made it further apparent that the forces working -for religion, and especially for its Protestant forms, were -stronger than the forces in opposition. The nation -enters the arena of the controversy as a spiritual force, -assuming as a first principle the existence of God and -His supernatural government of the world. Never was -this truth more impressively illustrated than in the -experience of Lincoln, who, when he became President -of the United States in the supreme crisis of its history, -ceased to be indifferent to religion and passed into a -devout belief in the mysterious control of the destiny -of the nation by a sovereign, omnipotent hand. As the -indifference to nationality was among the causes of -religious doubt and of the weakness in the Churches in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_494">494</a></span> -the middle of the century, so the triumphant assertion -of nationality has contributed to turn the tide towards -theistic belief and the Christian faith.</p> - -<p>To give a full exposition of the inner relationship of -the nation to religion and the Churches is not possible -here, but some remarks may be offered which will tend -to illustrate their organic connection.</p> - -<p>(1) In any large historical survey the nation appears -as guided by religious leaders. Religion is seen to have -flourished in proportion as the nation is conscious of -its strength and destiny. When the Roman Empire -broke down the nationalities and merged them in a -large composite unity, it broke down also religious faiths, -and its own religion as well, till scepticism was the -result and a consequent immorality. All attempts to -build up religion on the basis of empire, as distinct from -nationality, ended in failure.</p> - -<p>(2) The Christian religion tended from the first to -break up the empire and to restore nationality. Ultimately -it became manifest that the cause which undermined -the Roman Empire and accomplished its downfall -was the Christian Church. In its Eastern half the -empire was resolved into nationalities. In the West a -Church, Latin Christendom, rose upon its ruins, but -within this Latin Christendom the spirit of nationality -began at once to work, forcing its way against the opposition -of the Papacy, till, in the age of the Protestant -Reformation, when nationality was felt as a conscious -motive, it sundered Latin Christendom into fragments.</p> - -<p>(3) The Old Testament in its form as a whole is simply -the history of a nation from its birth through all its -fortunes. Never did religion rise to a diviner and fuller -expression than under the realization of the conviction -that God was protecting the nation and determining its -career. The Hebrew prophets were primarily statesmen, -devoted to the nationality, as the incarnation of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_495">495</a></span> -the divine will, in whose fortunes were revealed the -divine purpose. Any nation which has not the similar -conviction that it is the chosen people of God, and called -to some important task, cannot maintain its independence -and integrity, and has no future. This conviction -to-day inspires the leading nations of the world.</p> - -<p>(4) The nation mediates between humanitarianism -and individualism. In serving its own ends and seeking -to accomplish its mission, it works for the good of all, -and also for the freedom of the individual man. The -tendency of humanitarianism as a motive apart from -the higher life of the state, or apart from its impersonation -in Christ as its head and leader, is to weaken individualism -and to defeat the very end it wishes to subserve, -the achievement of the rights of man. Humanity -as a whole lacks the visible, tangible embodiment of -the nation. It has not yet the consciousness of itself -nor of its unity. It cannot respond to the needs it -awakens. It does not, as a whole, realize its relationship -to God, nor is it placed in such a position as to make it -feel the need of God. It is in danger of becoming an -abstraction in so far as it exists without relationships. -But the nation is close at hand, near, and felt as a -moral personality or being, seeking ideal ends which are -also within the bounds of possibility. Humanity as a -whole undertakes no enterprises which make it tremble -as it comes to unknown, trackless seas. But when the -nation comes to great crises, where human wisdom is -powerless to direct its course, it falls back instinctively -and by necessity upon the belief in the guidance of God. -Thus the nation as a whole appears in a higher form -of personality than individual men can achieve, even -the greatest men, and so prepares the way for the belief -in the still higher, the invisible, infinite personality of -God.</p> - -<p>(5) The nation as a moral personality and depending<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_496">496</a></span> -upon God becomes the safeguard of morals. If there -has been a decline in morality in the nineteenth century, -as some maintain, shown in the general weakening of -moral sanctions, or by the increase of divorce and indifference -to the sacredness of family life, it must be -attributed in some measure to the indifference to nationality -from the time that political liberalism resting on -an abstract humanitarianism, or in combination with a -scientific naturalism, gained the ascendency. So far -as this tendency has in any degree invaded the Christian -Church it has been powerless to effect a change for the -better. The great men whom humanity is directed to -worship do not constitute a moral standard, nor can -scientific postulates be made a basis for moral culture; -for nature is at least unmoral, if not, as some assert, -immoral, and it is only as acted upon by man that nature -gives response to the increasing purpose of the world. -Religious truths—the personality of God, His creation -and government of the world, immortality, and the -freedom of the will—these are shattered, we are told, -“by the great eternal iron laws of the universe,” or -“are in hopeless contradiction with the most solid truths -of empirical science.” And so, it must be added, are the -sanctions of ethics and moral law. It is when we turn -to the state, to the moral personality of the nation, that -we encounter other laws and living forces which restore -what an empirical science or a transcendental humanitarianism -has broken down. Here the supreme test is -spiritual—the well-being of the nationality. The state -must build upon the family as its corner-stone; it must -enforce those moral laws which the history of nations, as -well as human experience in its best estate, reveal to be -the inmost expression of the normal life of man.</p> - -<p>The beginning of a new century may seem like an -artificial division of time, but the self-consciousness -with which the nineteenth century closed, the efforts<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_497">497</a></span> -at introversive estimates of its place in history and of -the work it had accomplished, indicate something more -than a conventional barrier to be passed. Prophecies -in regard to the new age may be futile, for God reserves -to Himself the knowledge of the future. But it is much -if we can to any extent read the meaning of the past and -detect the sources of its strength and weakness. And -for the rest, Christian faith and hope are inextinguishable, -looking forward to the fulfilment of the Christian -ideal—that higher unity where Christ appears as the -embodiment of humanity and the voice of its yearning -for a perfect brotherhood; where the nation also acknowledges -Him as its overlord, so that, in the words of Christian -prophecy, the kingdoms of this world shall become the -kingdom of our God and of His Christ. In that ideal -conception, the <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">dominium</i> belongs to the state, and the -<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">ministerium</i> to the Christian Church.</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">Alexander V. G. Allen.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_498">498</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="THE_JEWS_AND_JUDAISM"></a>THE JEWS AND JUDAISM</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> opening years of the nineteenth century found -the Jew blinded by the light of a new sun, the rays -of which were beating upon the Ghetto and were forcing -him to take off, one by one, the many garments with -which he had clothed himself during the hostile Middle -Ages. For the Jew these Middle Ages did not end with -the Reformation and the Renaissance; but only disappeared -in the transformation brought about gradually -by the French Revolution. The beginning of the twentieth -century sees him putting on some of these garments -again, and trying to save his own warmth from -being lost in the coldness of the outside world. During -this period the Jew has passed through more upheavals -than many nations have during three or four times the -number of years. What outward struggles has he not -been called upon to experience; through what alternating -seasons of joy and sorrow has he not passed! What -changes even within his own body has he not sustained! -The modern European and American world has had a -hard fight to find its way into its present changed condition; -but much harder by far was the task laid upon -the Jew; and, whether he has succeeded or not, he has -made an honest fight. Evidences of the struggle abound -on every hand, and the road is strewn with many a dead -hope and many a lost opportunity. The Jew was bound -more firmly to ancient traditions; and so interwoven -were these ancient traditions with his whole being that -the new life into which he came had of necessity to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_499">499</a></span> -blended with the old. The tale of the Jew of the nineteenth -century is a record of his endeavor to do justice -to the two demands which were made upon him: the one -from the outside world—to fit himself to take his place -worthily and do his work side by side with the other -citizens of the state in which he lived; the other from -within his own ranks—to harmonize his religious belief -with his new point of view and to adapt his religious -exercises to modern social conditions.</p> - -<h3>EMANCIPATION OF THE JEWS</h3> - -<p>The struggle of the Jews in the various European -countries for civil rights and for equality before the -law was long drawn out, and was marked by varying -fortunes dependent upon the political conditions of these -countries. More than seventy years of the century -had passed before this struggle had been fought out. -Though it is true that a beginning was made in Germany -and Austria (1750 and 1781), to France belongs the -honor of having been the first to really do away with -the mass of anti-Jewish legislation which the centuries -preceding had piled up. On the 27th of September, -1791, the National Assembly at one stroke removed all -the disabilities under which the Jews had been living—distinctive -dress, special Jew’s oath, Jew’s tax, forced -residence in certain localities, etc. From France, and -under the influence which that country then exercised, -the emancipation of the Jews spread to Belgium and -Holland, and to some of the states of Germany; but -the rest of Europe was not yet ready for this emancipation. -The reaction which marks the period between -1814 and 1848 made itself felt upon the Jews, restoring, -in many places, the disabilities under which they had -formerly lived. The “Judengassen” became once more -inhabited, and the principles of freedom and liberty<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_500">500</a></span> -for all members of the state seemed to have been wellnigh -forgotten. The Revolution of 1830 stayed the downward -course in some of the German states; but it was -not until 1848 that the second great period in Jewish -emancipation came about. In the breaking down of -old institutions it was natural that the exceptional laws -against the Jews should go also. The German Parliament -of 1848, at Frankfort, forcefully proclaimed the -doctrine of religious liberty; and of this parliament a -Jew, Gabriel Riesser, was vice-president. But it was -not until the formation of the German Empire, in 1871, -that the emancipation of the Jews, which had gradually -made its way in the various states, was carried through -for the whole of that empire. In 1867, a decree was -issued in Austria by virtue of which all citizens were -declared equal before the law, and in 1870 the walls -of the Ghetto fell in Rome. In 1874, Jews were admitted -to the rank of citizens in Switzerland. In 1878, the -Congress of Berlin, the leading spirit of which (Disraeli) -was of the Jewish race, demanded equal rights for the -Jews living in the Balkan Peninsula. These rights -were accorded by the various states there, with the -exception of Roumania; which, in spite of the treaty -and in spite of the promises made at the time, still continues -to refuse to allow the Jews living within its borders -to become citizens or to treat them as an integral part -of the population. In Turkey the laws which put certain -restrictions upon non-Mohammedan citizens were sensibly -changed in 1839; so that the Jews living in the -dominions of the Sultan suffer from no exceptional -legislation.</p> - -<p>The cause of Jewish emancipation in England suffered -no such sudden changes as it did on the continent. -It proceeded by regular stages through the abrogation -of the Act of Test in 1828, the admission of -Jews as citizens of London in 1830, as sheriffs in 1835,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_501">501</a></span> -as magistrates in 1845, and in 1858 as members of Parliament -by the removal of the words “upon the faith of a -Christian” in the oath taken by the members. There -can be no doubt that the emancipation in England, -though long drawn out and fiercely contested, was more -effective than anywhere else, owing to the fact that it -was progressive in character and based upon the idea -of rights demanded and not upon that of favors granted. -Nothing was asked of the Jews in England other than -that they be good citizens of the state; while the whole -continental legislation regarding them, from the time of -Napoleon on, had on the part of the legislators only one -object in view—to break up the cohesion of the Jews as -a body and to pave the way for their disappearance as -a distinctive group. The idea that emancipation was a -favor and not a right brought it about that the Jews -themselves aided in their own disintegration. They -believed that it was their duty to show themselves more -patriotic than were the other citizens of the state in which -they lived, as they were receiving greater favors. And -so, even though Jews have sat in the parliaments of -various continental states, they have with few exceptions -steadfastly refused to acknowledge themselves to be -in any way representatives of their brethren, and in -some cases (notably in France) during the last few years -have either remained supinely indifferent when Jewish -questions were before their several parliaments, or have -even aided those whose agitation was directed against -their fellow-Jews. In England, on the contrary, the -Jewish members of Parliament have never forgotten -that, in addition to their interests as citizens of England, -they have a duty to perform to the Jews, whom they also -represent, and they have therefore been able, while -giving their best services to the state, to be also useful -to their co-religionists. It may be due to this cause -that the emancipation of Jews on the continent has<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_502">502</a></span> -in no way been able to stem the recrudescence of anti-Semitism; -while it has undoubtedly done this in -England. The opposite effect is most clearly seen in -Algiers, where the wholesale emancipation of the Jews -in 1870, through the efforts of Crémieux, that bold -champion of his people, has in a large measure contributed -to make the riots possible which have in late -years been witnessed in that French colony. Neither -the population of Algeria nor the Jews there were -at that time ready for such a measure; it did not -therefore come as the result of a development among -the people, but as something imposed upon them by -the government.</p> - -<p>In addition to Roumania, Russia is practically the -only country which has refused to enter the European -concert, and which by means of laws and ordinances -represents still the dark period of the Middle Ages. It -has turned the provinces on its western borders into a -tremendous Ghetto, and driven the Jews to exile by -making life within that pale practically impossible. -Even Portugal in 1821, and Spain in 1868 (the two countries -from which the Jews had been banished for a great -number of years), opened their doors to them once more; -though few Jews have ventured to return to the Peninsula, -despite the fact that in 1886 a committee was -formed in Madrid for the promotion of Jewish immigration -into Spain.</p> - -<h3>THE WANDERING JEW</h3> - -<p>The Wandering Jew is not the Jew of legend, but the -Jewish people of history. The dislocation of large -Jewish bodies, which was characteristic of the Middle -Ages, has been kept up during the nineteenth century; -and this dislocation has, as in former times, profoundly -modified Judaism in the various countries. From the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_503">503</a></span> -fifteenth century on to the nineteenth, hostile legislation -on the part of Western Europe had been continually -driving the Jews to the East. The expulsion from -Spain and Portugal, at the end of the fifteenth century, -forced several hundred thousand into Turkey; while -the hardships which they had to suffer in the smaller -German states and in Austria caused large numbers -to seek a refuge in Poland and Russia. The tide -commenced to turn westward about the middle of the -eighteenth century, though bands of Jews from Poland -had been driven into Germany, Italy, and Holland in -the terrible years of the Chmelnicki persecutions (1648–1651). -The readmission of Jews into England, the -relative kindness of Frederick William of Prussia -and of Frederick the Great, aided a certain slow but -continuous infiltration from Poland, so that at the -end of the eighteenth or the first half of the nineteenth -century these Polish Jews were to be found -in all parts of Germany, Holland, and England. This -slow migration back again to Western Europe took -on, however, much larger proportions in the latter part -of the nineteenth century; but before this could happen -a strong movement still farther westward had already -taken place. Jews were among the earliest settlers -on the American continent. They were in nearly every -case of Spanish or Portuguese descent, having come -from Holland and England to the possessions which -these powers held on the new continent. In the middle -of the nineteenth century, when the tide of immigration -from Germany was at its height, a large number of -Jews from the southern states and the Rhine region -found their way to these shores. The Russian atrocities -of 1882 and the following years caused a greater shifting -of the Jewish population westward than can be paralleled -at any previous time. It has been estimated that between -the years 1882 and 1900 fully one million Russian<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_504">504</a></span> -Jews left their homes in the pale of settlement, finding -new dwelling-places in England, Germany, and France. -The largest number (probably half a million) came to -the United States and Canada. Untoward economic -conditions existing in Galicia, and the frequent outbreaks -of anti-Semitism there, forced out during the 90’s -a large number of Galician Jews; and in 1899 and 1900 -the hostility of the Roumanian government has made it -impossible for thousands of Jews to remain in a country -in which most of them had been born; and, under circumstances -the like of which has hardly ever before been -seen, bands of the Roumanian Jews have been wandering -over Europe, seeking the means by which to come to -the American continent in order there to establish themselves -anew. There are between ten and eleven million -Jews to-day in the world: of these, about nine million -live in Europe; one million in the United States and -Canada; three hundred and fifty thousand in Africa; -three hundred and fifty thousand in Asia; and sixteen -thousand in Australasia.</p> - -<h3>COMMUNAL ORGANIZATION</h3> - -<p>All these changed circumstances variously modified -the organization of the Jewish communities. Napoleon’s -attempt in 1807, as the result of the Sanhedrin which -he had convened in Paris, to found this organization -upon a modern basis, dividing the Jews of France into -certain consistories and arrondissements, had an effect -not only upon France, but also upon those countries -which for a time were under his influence (Holland, -Belgium, etc.), and even upon many of the German states. -In 1808 such consistories were established in Westphalia -and Cassel; in 1809, an Oberrath was created in Baden; -and in 1828 and 1831 an Oberkirchenbehoerde in Würtemberg. -It was due also to Napoleon that in France<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_505">505</a></span> -and Germany the Jews were obliged to adopt family -names, they having, in most cases, still retained the -Oriental custom of simply adding to their own prænomen -that of their father. Prussia was the only one of the -German states which was not so affected. There the -state exercises a supervisory influence, compelling all -the Jews to be members of the Jewish community, but -in no way further regulating the communal life. When -the Reform tendencies commenced to make themselves -felt in the larger Jewish communities, the Orthodox -members safeguarded their own interests by making -use of the law passed in 1873, mainly through the efforts -of the Jew Lasker, which enabled the people to declare -themselves “confessionslos” and form their own synagogues, -thus nearing in a measure the system followed -in English-speaking countries. In England and America -no such organization was effected, as the state does -not there take cognizance of the religious belief of the -people. In both these countries attempts have been -made by the Jews themselves to organize under one -head upon a purely religious basis, but without much -success. In France there is a Chief Rabbi of the Jews -who is recognized by the state as their rabbi and head. -But the Chief Rabbi of the Jews in the British Empire, -though he is nominally the head of the Jews in the kingdom, -has no actual position as such, and is even not -recognized by certain schools of Jews themselves. The -Sefardim, or descendants of Spanish and Portuguese -Jews, have always kept themselves distinct, and have -their own Chief Rabbi, or Haham. In the year 1840, -the more liberal-minded element among the London -Jews cut themselves loose from the United Synagogue -and formed a Reform party, their example being followed -in Manchester and Bradford. Neither they nor the -recent immigrants from Russia, who have formed their -own “Federation of Synagogues” recognize the authority<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_506">506</a></span> -of the Chief Rabbi. This more congregational system -has been carried to its utmost limits in the United States, -where each congregation is a law unto itself and absolutely -rejects any interference on the part of any larger -body. From time to time a desire has been manifested -to supersede this purely congregational system by some -form of union. The late Dr. Isaac M. Wise, of Cincinnati, -had at various times attempted to bring the Jews -of the United States together with an authoritative -synod at their head. Out of this and other attempts -have come the Central Conference of American Rabbis -and The Union of American Congregations (founded -in 1873), which now comprises about ninety-one congregations. -These organizations, however, do not by -any means represent either all of the Jewish ministers -or all of the Jewish congregations, and the Union -itself is merely a deliberative body having no power -to do anything in the internal affairs of one of its -constituent synagogues. Since the union of American -Jewish congregations comprises only such as -stand upon a Reform platform, a union of Orthodox -congregations was formed in New York two or three -years ago, and it is hoped that this organization will -do much towards binding together the very many congregations -of those who adhere strictly to traditional -Judaism.</p> - -<p>But the organization of Jews as a church has not been -found sufficient. Spread over so large a portion of the -earth and coming under such varying influences, it -was inevitable that the theological differences which -already existed should grow apace, and a great cleavage -be made between the Orthodox and the Reform wing -of the synagogue. It was early felt that some more -secular bond must be found which should unite the -Jews of various persuasions for common and concerted -action. The first attempt in this direction was nobly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_507">507</a></span> -made by Narcisse Leven, Eugene Emanuel, Charles -Netter, and a few others, in founding (1880) the “Alliance -Israélite Universelle” in Paris, whose object it was -to aid in removing Jewish disabilities wherever they -might exist, and to raise the spiritual condition of their -coreligionists in Northern Africa, Eastern Europe, and -Western Asia by the founding of schools. From these -small beginnings the Alliance has grown to be an important -factor in the conservation of Jewish interests. -Faithful to its programme, it has established a large -number of elementary and technical schools, and has -intervened actively in Algeria, Morocco, the Turkish -Empire, and Persia whenever Jews or Jewish interests -were in any way threatened. Its attempt, however, -to represent the whole Jewish people has not been successful; -for the reason that it has been allied too closely -with French national interests; and side by side with -the “Alliance Française” it has been an active propagandist -of the French language and of French culture -in the East. This one-sidedness of its work is best seen -in the fact that by its side similar organizations have -been created in other countries, “The Board of Delegates -of American Israelites” in the United States, “The -Anglo-Jewish Association” in England, “The Israeli-tisch -Alliance” in Austria, and the “Deutsche Gemeindebund” -in Germany. At one time it was hoped that -the B’nai B’rith, established in this country in 1843, -by Isidor Busch, Julius Bien, and others, would form -such a union of Jews, where the theological differences -would be eliminated. But though this order, which -has 315 lodges in, the United States and Canada, has -established itself in such countries as Germany, Roumania, -Austria, Algeria, Bulgaria, and Egypt, and -despite the good work it has so far done, the mere -fact that it is a secret organization prevents it from -standing forth as the representative of international<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_508">508</a></span> -Jewry. Where, then, and in what manner is such a -body to be found?</p> - -<h3>ECONOMIC CONDITIONS</h3> - -<p>The economic condition of the Jews in the large Eastern -European Ghettos is, naturally, extremely bad. Huddled -together, either in certain districts of large towns -or in villages where they form the greater part of the -population, they are compelled to live off and on each -other. Crowded into certain walks of life by anti-Jewish -legislation or anti-Jewish sentiment, few of them can -gain more than sufficient to keep body and soul together. -In Galicia it has been estimated that five thousand Jews -perish every year from typhus-fever. The Jewish wax-miners -in Boryslav, to take but one instance, were forced -out of the mines and reduced to utter starvation, for no -other reason but because they were Jews. The failure -of the harvests in Southern Russia during the last few -years has reduced the wage-earners in that part of the -country to the position of dependants upon the charity -of others; but the Jews who live there in such large -numbers do not even benefit from the assistance sent -by the government. Similar conditions prevail almost -continually in the rest of the Russian pale and in Roumania. -The standard of life has naturally been lowered -among these people and their general <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">morale</i> has not -come out of the trial unscathed.</p> - -<p>Nor must it be forgotten that the violent dislocation -of hundreds of thousands of people, such as has taken -place among the Jews during the last quarter of the -nineteenth century, has naturally disturbed existing -economic conditions, not only among the Jews themselves, -but also among those into whose midst they -came. These outcasts from Eastern Europe did not -come to virgin soil as did the Pilgrim Fathers, but to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_509">509</a></span> -cities and towns which were already filled with a proletariat -engaged in the eager fight for life. The Jews -of Berlin, Paris, London, and New York, had their -hands full with the proper care of the needy ones already -in their midst.</p> - -<p>It is a mistake to suppose that the Jews as a people -are rich. The proletariat among them is proportionately -much larger than it is among other people; and -thus it came about that the Jewish quarters in all -the large cities were already well filled when they were -(almost at a moment’s notice) called upon to receive -double or triple the number they already held. The -actual number of the Jewish poor was thereby greatly -increased; for many a family that had been wealthy or -in easy circumstances in Russia, Galicia, or Roumania, -had been reduced to want and been compelled to take -its place among those who needed the help of their -brethren. This help was freely and cheerfully given -all the world over. Great sacrifices were made by the -richer Jews to meet the pressing needs of the hour, and, -with no help from the outside world, excepting the London -Mansion House Fund in 1882, the thousands and tens -of thousands of immigrants were cared for. The Jewish -charitable organizations, the development of which -has been during the latter half of the nineteenth century -the brightest spot in Jewish communal life, rose to the -demands of the occasion, and the more than princely -munificence of Baron and Baroness Maurice de Hirsch, -in regard to the Russian Jews, may justly be looked -upon with pride.</p> - -<p>New Ghettos, however, were formed in nearly all -the cities to which these immigrants came; and this -name for the habitat of the poorer Jews became again -familiar, aided by the popularity which some modern -novelists had given to it. In the Middle Ages and down -to our own time the Jews had been forced by the state<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_510">510</a></span> -to live apart in such Ghettos; sometimes for their own -protection, sometimes to preserve the outside world -from contact with them. The modern Ghetto is a voluntary -gathering of the Jews for the purpose of mutual -help and from a feeling of reciprocal obligations. To -the outside observer it presents an unsightly appearance; -it is the abode of poor people, and its population is usually -strange in dress, manners, and speech. The sweating -system (which in one form or another is to be found -in all these Ghettos) has been a dreadful incentive towards -grinding the face of the poor; and the results of -too great a hoarding are often quite apparent; so that -the general morality of the Jews in these Ghettos has -suffered in consequence. A people ignorant of the -language of their new home are a prey to the evil-intended, -who make use of their ignorance for their own -commercial and political advancement. This has been -notably seen in the city of New York, where a lax city -government has permitted the vampires of society to -fasten their fangs upon the Ghetto and to produce conditions -which call for the active interference of all those -forces which seek to stamp out crime and vice. But, -on the other hand, to one who is acquainted with the -inner life of the Ghetto the virtues which have hitherto -characterized the Jews—industry and sobriety—are -still to be found there; much more frequently than in -those parts where the richer classes congregate, and -whose wealth enables them to withdraw their doings -from the public gaze. Its members are as industrious -as bees in a hive; and though extremely litigatious, -drunkenness is unknown and actual crime is comparatively -rare.</p> - -<p>In order to correct the abuses of the Ghetto, two things -are absolutely necessary—the increase of the actual -number of Jews there must be stopped, and the crowding -into certain distinct fields of work must be brought to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_511">511</a></span> -an end. A determined effort has already been made to -force the new immigrants into less crowded parts of the -land to which they come. In this country this is being -done by the United Hebrew Charities, and notably by -the B’nai B’rith. A distinct clannish feeling has, however, -to be overcome, and a fear of venturing into an -unknown country where the immigrant will be surrounded -by people who do not understand his peculiar -social and religious customs.</p> - -<p>That the Jew has taken by preference to certain -branches of trade and work is due to the fact that -anti-Jewish legislation has for centuries closed many -walks of life to him, and the guild organization -excluded him rigorously from many spheres of activity. -Then, too, his richly developed home life has -induced a certain distaste for occupations which take -the wage-earner out of his home and away from -his family. That, however, these inherited instincts -can easily be overcome is clearly seen whenever the -occasion offers. Even in Amsterdam, where three-fourths -of the diamond industry is in the hands of Jews, -there are to be found Jewish cobblers, cigar-makers, -plumbers, carpet-weavers, mattress-makers, watch-makers, -etc. In the East End of London there are, -it is true, ten thousand Jews who are engaged in the -clothes-making trades, but the rest of the forty thousand -Jewish wage-earners of this quarter are scattered over -all possible branches of work—masonry, metal-working, -textile industries, furniture-making, cap-making, and -the like. The same is true of New York, where, although -the number of Jews employed in the tailoring industries -is disproportionately large, the following list of Hebrew -unions shows how far afield the Jewish workman has -gone: Cap-Makers, Cap-Blockers, Shirt-Makers, Mattress-Makers, -Purse-Makers, Liberty Musical Union, -Jewish Chorus Union, Jewellers’ Union, Tin-Smithers’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_512">512</a></span> -Union, Bill-Posters, Waiters’ Alliance, Architectural -Ironworkers, Hebrew Typographical Union, Tobacco -Cutters, Paper-Makers, Bookbinders. The same is -relatively true of all other countries where Jews live in -large numbers.</p> - -<p>It is a popular misconception that the Jew has an -innate distaste for agriculture. His continued commercial -life, forced upon him for many centuries, has, -it is true, disaccustomed the Jew to the life of a -tiller of the soil. But the Jewish state was largely -an agricultural one; the legislation of the Bible and -the later Law Books was clearly intended for an agricultural -people; and Jews have never shown an -unwillingness to return again to the soil. In Southern -Russia there are to-day 225 Jewish colonies with a -population of 100,000. In Palestine there are now more -than twenty colonies with a population of more than -5000, and similar agricultural colonies have been established -at various times in the United States, Canada, -and the Argentine Republic. In many cases, it is true, -these colonies have not yet become self-supporting, but -this has been due in a large measure to maladministration -and to the peculiar conditions under which the -colonies were founded.</p> - -<p>It cannot be denied that a goodly part of the Jewish -proletariat belongs to the Socialist party. The whole -Biblical system is in itself not without a Socialist tinge; -and the two great founders of the modern system, Lasalle -and Marx, were Jews. It is no wonder that in -Russia many of the leading anarchists were of the -Jewish race, for the Jew suffered there from the evils -which Nihilism was intended to correct ten times more -than did his fellow-Russian. But the Jew is by nature -peace-loving; and under more favorable circumstances, -and with the opportunity of a greater development of his -faculties, Socialism in his midst has no very active life;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_513">513</a></span> -the Jew very soon becoming an ardent partisan of the -existing state of affairs.</p> - -<h3>INTERNAL RELIGIOUS DEVELOPMENT</h3> - -<p>The facility with which the Jews attach themselves -to changed circumstances stands out characteristically -through their whole history. It might, indeed, be said -with some show of truth that this pliability is the weak -side in the Jewish character. The readiness of the -Jew to be almost anything and not simply his own self -has been one of the factors producing a certain ill will -against him. Disraeli was the most jingo of all imperialists -in England; Lasker, the most ardent advocate -of the newly constituted German Empire. This pliability -is the result of the wandering life he has led and the -various civilizations of which he has been a part. He -had to find his way into Hellenism in Alexandria, into -Moorish culture in Spain, into Slavism in Russia and -Poland. When the first wave of the modern spirit commenced -to break from France eastward over the whole -of Europe, it reached the Jew also. While in France -the new spirit was largely political, in Germany it was -more spiritual. In its political form as well as in its -spiritual form it reacted not only upon the political -condition of the Jew, but especially upon his mental -attitude. The new spirit was intensely modern, intensely -cosmopolitan, intensely Occidental, and intensely -inductive. The Jew had preserved to a great degree -his deductive, Oriental, particularistic, and ancient mode -of thought and aspect of life. The two forces were bound -to meet. As a great oak is met by the storm, so was -Israel set upon by the fury of this terrible onslaught. -It is of interest to see in what manner he emerged from -this storm—whether he has been able to bend to its fury, -to lose perhaps some of his leaves and even some of his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_514">514</a></span> -branches, but to change only in such a way as to be -able to stand upright again when the storm is past.</p> - -<p>This great clash of ideas has produced what is known -as the Reform movement. It had its origin in Germany -under the spiritual influences of the regeneration of -German letters produced by such men as Goethe, Schiller, -Herder, Lessing, and Mendelssohn. It was aided in a -large measure by the fact that the government in Germany, -although distinctly opposed to anything which -militates against the established order of things, mixes -itself very seldom in the internal affairs of the Jewish -communities. This Reform movement has colored the -religious development of Judaism during the three-quarters -of the century which is past. The heat of -the controversy is now wellnigh spent. Many of those -who stood in the front ranks have passed away, so that -a more just estimate of its value can be reached. It -was a period of tremendous upheavals, of great physical -as well as mental pain. Many a congregation was -split in twain, many a family disrupted. At one time -it looked as if two distinct bodies of Jews would emerge -from the struggle, and the union of Israel be destroyed -forever. A common enemy—anti-Semitism—joined the -two forces together for a common defence; and the danger -of such a split is now fairly a thing of the past.</p> - -<p>The latter half of the eighteenth century found the -Jews of Middle Europe at the lowest intellectual and -social point they had up till then reached. The effect -of the long Jewish Middle Ages was plainly visible. -Few great minds lit up the darkness, and an intellectual -torpor seems to have spread its pall over everything. -A passive uniformity of practice prevailed in -all the communities, whether Sefardic (Spanish and -Portuguese) or Ashkenazic (German and Polish); a -uniformity, because actual intellectual life had been -made to run in one single groove. The Talmud had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_515">515</a></span> -been the great saving of Judaism in the past. In the -intellectual exercise which its study necessitated, the -mind of the Jew had been given a field in which it could -rove at will. Living apart from the rest of the world, with -a wide jurisdiction over his own affairs, Talmudic law in its -latest development was still the law supreme for the Jew. -The Jewish Ghetto had everywhere the same aspect; -the language in common use was, in all the Ashkenazic -communities, the Judæo-German in one of its various -forms. A certain severity in evaluating those things -which were part of the outside world made itself felt. -There was ample time and ample occasion for the practice -of all those forms and ceremonies with which the Judaism -of the Middle Ages had willingly and gladly fenced in -the law. There had been little occasion for the practice -of the beautiful arts or for the cultivation of letters. Life -in the Ghetto was not necessarily gloomy, but it was -solemn. The law was not felt as a burden, but it required -the whole individual attention of those who bound -themselves by it, from early morn till late at night, -from the cradle to the grave. There was no place for -things that come from outside, because there was no -time to devote to them.</p> - -<p>But the new European spirit in its French political -form was knocking hard at the gates of the Ghetto. -Little by little it made its way here and there, into all -sorts of nooks and corners. It was bound in time to -be heard by some of those living behind these gates. -The name of Moses Mendelssohn is indissolubly connected -with the history of German Judaism during the -latter part of the eighteenth century. It was due to -him that a vehicle was found which the new spirit could -use. Himself a strictly observant Jew, he felt the pulse -of the new era. The friend of Lessing and of Nicolai, -he entered fully into the revival which was then making -itself felt. Through his translation of the Pentateuch<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_516">516</a></span> -(1778, etc.) into High-German, he prepared the way for -the further introduction of German writings to the Jewish -masses. This was bound to bring with it a larger culture -and a greater freedom of thought. Many of his friends, -such as Wessely, Hertz-Homberg, and David Friedlander, -stood by his side in this work. With the introduction -of the German language and German literature, better -and more modern schools were needed in which secular -education should go hand in hand with the former one-sided -religious training. David Friedlander was the -first to found a school in the modern sense of the term; -and he was followed by Jacobson in 1801, at Seesen, -Westphalia, and at Cassel, and by Johlson, at Frankfort, -in 1814. Between the years 1783 and 1807 such modern -Jewish schools arose in Germany, Austria, Denmark, -France, and even in Poland. Literature was cultivated, -and the first Jewish journal (though still in Hebrew) -was published in Königsberg, 1783 (<cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Hameassef</cite>—the -Collector). The <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Gesellschaft der Freunde</cite>, founded in -Berlin in 1792, was distinctly intended for the spread -of this modern culture; yet Mendelssohn’s own position -was quite an untenable one. He was a thoroughly -Orthodox Jew in practice, but his mental attitude was -that of a modern German. He was and he was not a -reformer. He held that it mattered little what philosophical -position a Jew held, the Jew must observe all -the ceremonies connected with the faith; these were -binding upon him by the mere fact of his having been -born into the Covenant. It is therefore no wonder that -his translation was put under the bann in Hamburg, -Altona, Fuerth, Posen, etc. His friend Friedlander -wished to make of the synagogue a sort of Ethical Culture -Society; and Jacobson’s preaching in Berlin contained -very little of what was distinctly Jewish. The -salons of Berlin, Königsberg, and Vienna, which were -presided over by brilliant women, who were more or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_517">517</a></span> -less immediate disciples of Mendelssohn, nurtured the -cosmopolitan spirit which was bound to be destructive -of practical Judaism. That this fruit on the Tree of -Knowledge ripened too quickly is seen from the fact that -all the descendants of Mendelssohn, Friedlander, and -others, led astray by this cosmopolitan spirit and the -philosophic presentation of Christianity by Schleiermacher, -have all become devoted members of the Lutheran -Church and have been completely lost to Judaism.</p> - -<p>It was natural that these new influences should influence -also the training of the modern rabbis. Secular -education had been introduced into primary schools, -and in some places—as, for instance, Lombardy, in -1820—the government demanded a certain amount of -secular knowledge from the candidates for rabbinical -positions. The Jew also desired that his leaders should -have the same training as he gave his children, that -they should be educated in the same atmosphere in -which he himself had grown up. The old rabbinical -seminaries, or Yeshibot, in which the instruction was -entirely on Talmudic lines, had already run their course; -the study had been found insufficient by the pupils -themselves, and the schools of Frankfort, Fuerth, Metz, -Hamburg, and Halberstadt had all been closed for -want of students. The need of a modern seminary -was felt quite early during the century; and in 1809, -a Lehrer-Seminar was founded in Cassel. The earliest -regular seminary for the training of rabbis, however, -was founded in Padua in 1829. In Germany attempts -had been made in the year 1840, but these attempts -were unsuccessful. The first modern seminary was -not founded in Germany until the year 1854 (Breslau). -Then followed Berlin, in 1872; Cincinnati, in 1873; -Budapest, in 1876. Similar institutions exist now in -London, Paris, and Vienna.</p> - -<p>In the first convulsions of the Mendelssohn period<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_518">518</a></span> -the way was paved for the second period of the Reform -movement which covers the first quarter of the nineteenth -century. The real issues touched the central -point of Jewish life, the synagogue. It is interesting -to note that during this period the chief questions were -not so much theological as æsthetic. The æsthetic side -of life could not be largely cultivated in the Ghetto; -and the form of the service had greatly degenerated. -In the course of centuries, so many additional prayers -and songs and hymns had been added that the ritual -was largely overburdened, and often tended rather to -stifle than bring out the religious sense they were intended -to conserve. Contact with the outside world -created and fostered this æsthetic sense, and the influences -of the writings of such men as Lessing and -Mendelssohn was largely in this direction. As this -æsthetic sense made its way into the homes, so also did -it carve out its way into the synagogue. Demands -were heard for a shorter service; for the organ to accompany -the chanting of the reader; for the German -language in some of the prayers and for the German -sermon. Each point was bitterly contested; for the -Orthodox wing had before it the wholesale apostasy of -the Salon Jews. In order to introduce the vernacular -into the service and into the sermon, private synagogues -were opened by small coteries in Cassel (1809), Seesen -(1810), Dessau (1812), and Berlin (1815). In Southern -Germany the use of the vernacular was introduced between -the years 1817 and 1818, also in Hungary through -the influence of Abraham Chorin. In some countries -the government gave its active aid. In Vienna, in 1820, -German was made obligatory, and as early as 1814 -Danish in Copenhagen. The greatest changes, however, -were made in the Hamburg temple (under Kley -and Salomon, 1818), where not only the service was made -more æsthetic and the German language introduced,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_519">519</a></span> -but certain prayers referring to the Messianic time were -either omitted or altered. No wonder, then, that the -Orthodox rabbis in Germany, with the support of the -rabbis in various other countries, protested against -such a course. The government even looked askance -at these Reform proceedings, and in 1817 and 1823 ordered -a number of these private synagogues to be closed. -A further cause for displeasure was the introduction in -1814 of the confirmation of children in German, to replace -or supplement the old Barmitzvah, a clear imitation -of the ceremony in the Protestant Church of Germany. -Despite opposition, however, the confirmation found its -way into Berlin, Hamburg, Frankfort, Cassel, Copenhagen, -etc.</p> - -<p>This æsthetic revolution in the synagogue could -not, however, long remain the only outward sign of the -new life. The great weakness of the Reform movement -has been that it has lacked a philosophic basis; -and, as in its first beginnings, with the exception of -Hamburg, it took little note of the changed point of -view from which those who fought for reform looked -at the old theological ideas. Æsthetic reform was the -work largely of individual persons and individual congregations. -No attempt had been made either to formulate -the philosophic basis upon which the reform -stood, or to provide a body which should regulate the -form which the new order of things was to take on. Two -attempts were made to remedy these evils, both closely -related one to the other.</p> - -<p>The first was crystallized in what is now known as -the “Science of Judaism”; by which is meant the untrammelled, -scientific investigation of the past history -of the Jews. The want of this was severely felt just -in those centres where reform had taken up its abode; -and those who assisted at its birth did so with the avowed -purpose of getting at the real kernel of Judaism by such<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_520">520</a></span> -investigation, and of freeing that kernel from the accretions -of ages. They saw also that some means had to -be found by which the result of these researches could -be brought before the people. The Mendelssohn period -had also felt this; but its organ had been written -in Hebrew, and could not, therefore, appeal to those who -wished for the intellectual advancement of the Jews -upon modern lines. The Society for Culture and the -Science of Judaism in Berlin (founded 1819) started a -journal, with L. Zunz as editor. Though it only lived -during the years 1822 and 1823, it was the forerunner -and the model for many of its kind that followed after. -In 1835 appeared Geiger’s <cite>Scientific Journal for Jewish -Theology</cite>, and in 1837 a regular weekly was established by -L. Philippson, the <cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Allgemeine Zeitung des Judenthums</cite>. -Around these and other journals which quickly sprang -up there gathered a coterie of historians, philologists, -and students of literature which in the fifty years between -1830 and 1880 has built up a science which has -extended its investigations into every corner of Jewish -life in the past, and has followed to their sources the -various lines of development which have appeared from -time to time. A full estimate of what has been done -will be apparent only when the great Jewish Encyclopædia -will be ready which is now in course of publication -in New York. Zunz, Geiger, Krochmal, Rapoport, -Frankel, Löw, Steinschneider, Graetz, Luzzatto, and -Reggio are only a few of the names of those who gave -up their lives to this work. Most of the early labor -of these men was not dry-as-dust investigation pure -and simple, but was intended to have a bearing upon -the actual life, upon the burning questions which were -then agitating Jewish thought. This is clearly seen -in the journal of which Zunz was editor, and in his -<cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Gottesdienstliche Vortraege</cite>, the basis of nearly all the -work done after him, but which was evidently written<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_521">521</a></span> -to give the history of preaching in the synagogue in -order to justify the shortening of the ritual and the introduction -of the German sermon.</p> - -<p>The second attempt was to found or create some central -body which would remove the purely personal element -out of the Reform movement. In 1837 Geiger had called -his friends to a conference at Wiesbaden for the purpose -of formulating what they considered to be the essence -of Judaism. In 1844 a second such rabbinical conference -was held in Brunswick, largely at the suggestion of L. -Philippson. Similar conferences were held at Frankfort -in 1845, and at Breslau in 1846; for in the mean time -the Reform Genossenschaft had been created at Berlin, -which went beyond all previous attempts and demanded -some positive statement of the theological position which -it and its friends occupied. The Frankfort assembly -not proving satisfactory, the Berlin society went ahead -to establish its own synagogue; added a Sunday service -(which in a short while became the only service), and -under the guidance of S. Holdheim definitely broke -with traditional Judaism, removing nearly all the Hebrew -from its service, abbreviating the prayer-book still further, -and diminishing the number of observances. In Europe -this Reform synagogue in Berlin has gone to the furthest -extreme; and though it has in a measure kept its members -within the pale of Judaism, it has neither been a great -power nor has it found imitators. The hope was generally -expressed that a more general synod would be held, -to which the previous conferences were looked upon as -simply preparatory. The year 1848, however, put a -stop to all normal development; and it was only after -a number of years that the question was again taken up. -In 1869 a synod was, indeed, held at Leipsic, attended -by eighty-one members; and in 1871 at Augsburg, attended -by fifty-two, both under the presidency of Prof. -M. Lazarus. These synods dealt, in a spirit of moderate<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_522">522</a></span> -reform, with questions relating to the ritual, synagogue -observance, the admission of proselytes, etc. The general -stand there taken would to-day be looked upon as -conservative; dogmatic questions were hardly touched -upon excepting so far as they recognized the principle -of development in Judaism both as a religious belief -and as a form of religious exercise. It was fondly hoped -that these synods would become a court, which would -define and regulate whatever questions might arise. -But it was not to be. The synod represented only a -part of the Jewish world even in Germany. Not only -did the large body of the Orthodox stand aside, but even -the so-called Conservatives left the conferences, as they -could not agree with some of the resolutions accepted -there. In addition to this, the Franco-Prussian war -diverted the attention of all German citizens; and ten -years later the anti-Semitic movement succeeded in -driving the Jew back into himself. Jewish religious -life in Germany has therefore remained stationary since -that time, the Orthodox and Conservative parties being -largely in the ascendant, leaving to another land—America—the -task of carrying further the work which -it had commenced. Yet, in spite of this arrested development, -the Reform movement has had a great influence -also upon Orthodox Jews in Germany. It produced -the so-called historical school, which has the Breslau -Theological Seminary for its centre; and it called -forth by way of opposition the neo-orthodoxy of S. R. -Hirsch, of Frankfort, which seeks rather to understand -the depths of the law than simply to follow it in compliant -obedience.</p> - -<p>The æsthetic movement of the earlier period has also -left its traces, and especially in the Conservative congregation -has succeeded in introducing a service more -in consonance with our modern ideas of worship.</p> - -<p>In 1840, under the influence of the movement in Germany,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_523">523</a></span> -the attempt was made to introduce a certain reform -in the service of some of the London synagogues. -The measure demanded was exceedingly small—the -shortening of a few prayers and the omission of others, -which were not supposed to be in consonance with present -ideas. The Orthodox party did not, however, see its -way to grant these requests; and, when the Reformers -protested, established their own synagogue, and issued -their own prayer-book, they were immediately placed -under the bann both by the Sefardim and the Ashkenazim. -This congregation has not been of much importance, -and since its inception has made no further -changes. Compared with the Reform in America, the -English movement would still be classed as thoroughly -conservative.</p> - -<p>It was in the United States that the Reform movement -developed its full capacity and bore its most perfect -fruit. In a new land, which was untrammelled by traditions -of the past, and where the congregational system -became the basis of Jewish communal life, the ideas -which the German Reformers had sown had a most -fruitful ground in which to grow. It cannot be said -that the Reform movement here was actually started -by the Germans, for already, in 1825, one of the congregations -in Charleston, South Carolina, made up almost -entirely of Sefardic Jews, had developed “The Reformed -Society of Israelites”; and the formation of the society -seems to have been due, not only to the demand for an -æsthetic service, but to an attempt to formulate a creed -which should omit all reference to the coming of the -Messiah, the return to Palestine, and the bodily resurrection. -This attempt at formulating a Theistic Church, -however, was unsuccessful; and it was not until the -advent from Germany in the 50’s and 60’s of rabbis who -had been influenced by the movement in Germany that -reform commenced to make itself felt here. Merzbacher<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_524">524</a></span> -in New York, Isaac M. Wise in Albany and Cincinnati, -S. Hirsch in Philadelphia, David Einhorn in Baltimore, -are only a few of the names of those who fought in the -thick of the fight. About the year 1843 the first real -Reform congregations were established, the Temple -Emanu-el in New York and Har Sinai in Baltimore. -It cannot be my purpose here to trace the history of the -movement in this country; suffice it to say that the untrammelled -freedom which existed here very soon played -havoc with most of the institutions of the Jewish religion. -Each congregation and each minister being a law to -itself, shortened the service, excised prayers, and did -away with observances as it thought best. Not that -the leaders did not try, from time to time, to regulate the -measure of reform to be introduced, and to evolve a platform -upon which the movement should stand. Rabbinical -conferences were held for that purpose in Cleveland -(1856), Philadelphia (1869), Cincinnati (1871), and -Pittsburg (1885). While in the earlier conferences the -attempt was made to find some authoritative statement -upon which all parties could agree, in the subsequent -ones the attempt was given up. They became more and -more meeting-places simply for the advanced Reform -wing of the Jewish Church. The position of this wing -of the Reformed synagogue may best be seen in the -declaration of principles which was published by the -Pittsburg conference. It declared that Judaism presents -the highest conception of the God idea; that the Bible -contains the record of the consecration of the Jewish -people; that it is a potent instrument of religious and -moral instruction; that it reveals, however, the primitive -ideas of its own age; that its moral laws only are binding; -and that all ceremonies therein ordained which are not -adapted to the views and habits of modern civilization -are to be rejected; that all Mosaic and rabbinical laws -regulating diet, priestly functions and dress, are foreign<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_525">525</a></span> -to our present mental state; that the Jews are no longer -a nation, and therefore do not expect a return to Palestine; -that Judaism is a progressive religion, always striving -to be in accord with the postulates of reason; that the -belief in bodily resurrection, in the existence of a hell -and a paradise, are to be rejected; and that it is the duty -of Jews to participate in the great task of modern times -to solve on the basis of justice and righteousness the -problems presented by the transitions and evils of the -present organization of society. Such a platform as -this could not fail to arouse intense opposition on the -part of the Orthodox Jews, and to lose for the conference -even some of its more conservative adherents. As in -Charleston, in 1825, a platform of Theism was here -postulated, which was bereft of all distinctively Jewish -characteristics, and which practically meant a breaking -away from historic Judaism. This position of the -advanced Reformers is also manifested in the stand -which they have taken in regard to the necessity of the -Abrahamic covenant. At a meeting of the Central -Conference of American (Reformed) Rabbis, held at -Baltimore in 1881, a resolution was passed to the effect -that no initiatory rite or ceremony was necessary in the -case of one desiring to enter the Covenant of Israel, and -that such a one had merely to declare his or her intention -to worship the one sole and eternal God, to be conscientiously -governed in life by God’s laws, and to adhere -to the sacred cause and mission of Israel as marked out -in Holy Writ.</p> - -<p>The service in Reform synagogues in the United -States has kept pace with this development of doctrine, -or rather with this sloughing-off of so much that is distinctively -Jewish. The observance of the second-day festivals -has been entirely abolished, as well as the separation -of the sexes and the covering of the head in prayer. -The ritual has been gradually shortened, the ancient<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_526">526</a></span> -language of prayer (Hebrew) has been pushed further -and further into the background, so that in some congregations -the service is altogether English; and in a -few congregations an additional service on Sunday, -intended for those who cannot attend upon the regular -Sabbath-day, has been introduced. Only one congregation, -Sinai in Chicago, has followed the old Berlin -Reform synagogue and has entirely abolished the service -on Friday night and Saturday morning. But whatever -criticism one might like to offer on the Reform movement -in the United States, it deserves great praise for -the serious attempt it has made to understand its own -position and to square its observance with that position. -It has also been most active in its modern institutional -development. It has certainly beautified and spiritualized -the synagogue service; it has founded a Union of -American Hebrew Congregations, and a seminary (Hebrew -Union College in Cincinnati). It has published a Union -Prayer-book and a Union Hymn-book, and has given -great care to the development of the Confirmation and -the bettering of the Sunday-school. It has tried to make -the synagogue a centre for the religious and spiritual -development of its members; and it cannot be denied -that the very large mass of educated Jews in this country, -in so far as they have any affiliation with the synagogue, -belong to the Reform wing. But at the same time, it -must not be forgotten that there is a very large body of -Orthodox and Conservative Jews, whose number has -been greatly increased during the last twenty years -through the influx of Russian, Galician, and Roumanian -Jews. It would be outside of my province were I to -attempt to criticise either the work or the results of Reform -Judaism in this country. But it is a question in -the minds even of some of the leading Reformers themselves -how far success has been attained in developing -the religious sentiment of their people in the direction<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_527">527</a></span> -of a pure Theism uncolored by any Jewish, or, as they -call it, Oriental observances. They themselves confess -that the Sunday-service movement has not developed -as they had hoped it would, and a number of them feel -that in weakening the hold which specific Jewish observances -have always had on the Jewish people, they -are doing away with one of the most powerful incentives -to the rekindling of the religious flame among the Reformed -Jews.</p> - -<p>Reform Judaism without some centrifugal force is -bound to continue on the road it has once taken. The -logical outcome of the principles formulated at the Pittsburg -conference is a gradual development into an ethical -Theism without any distinctive Jewish coloring. The -leader of advanced Reform Judaism in this country has -recently said that Judaism must be recast along the -lines of a universal ethical religion; that then all distinctive -Jewish elements of the synagogue symbolism -will pass away, and that such a denationalized Jewish -temple will seek a closer alliance with Unitarianism -and Theism, and with them, perhaps in a few decades, -will form a new Church and a new religion for united -humanity. That such a tendency is inherent in Reform -Judaism is seen also in the formation of the Society of -Ethical Culture in New York. The leader of this movement -is the son of a former prominent rabbi of the leading -Reform congregation in this country. In seeking to -bring out the underlying ethical principles of Judaism, -he has gone entirely outside the pale of the ancient faith; -and the movement would not concern us here were it -not that nearly all the members (at least of the parent -society in New York) are Jews, whose evident desire it -is not to be recognized as such, at least so far as religious -ceremonies and social affiliations are concerned. The -society does not even bear the name Jewish, but with a -certain leaning towards liberal Christianity tries to find<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_528">528</a></span> -a basis for the morality and ethics of the old synagogue -outside the sphere of supernatural religion. While the -Ethical Culture Society has been quite a power in certain -lines of charitable and educational work, it may reasonably -be questioned whether it has any future as a form -of Church organization. The inborn longing of man -for some hold upon things which are supernatural will -lead many of its members to seek satisfaction elsewhere. -That they will seek it in the Jewish synagogue is hardly -probable, seeing how the racial and other ties have -been broken or at least greatly loosened. They or their -children will glide rather into some form of the dominant -Church, possibly, in the swinging of the pendulum, into -some orthodox form of that Church. I cannot help -quoting the words of an intelligent outside observer -of the Jewish question, the Right Hon. James Bryce, -M. P.: “If Judaism becomes merely Theism, there will -be little to distinguish its professors from the persons, -now pretty numerous, who, while Christian in name, sit -loose to Christian doctrine. The children of Jewish -theists will be almost as apt as the children of other -theists to be caught up by the movement which carries -the sons and daughters of evangelical Anglicans and -of Nonconformists towards, or all the way to, the Church -of Rome.”</p> - -<p>Where, then, is this centrifugal force to be found, -which will hold together the various elements in Israel, -no matter what their theological opinions may be?</p> - -<h3>ANTI-SEMITISM</h3> - -<p>Before attempting to answer this question, a word -must be said in regard to the anti-Semitic movement, -the recrudescence of which has so profoundly affected -the Jewish people during the last twenty years of the -nineteenth century. A word only, because the facts<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_529">529</a></span> -are of too recent date to need a detailed statement here. -The great master-mind, Zunz, writing in Germany in -1832, believed that persecution for religious belief could -not withstand the onslaughts of the new era. Theodore -Reinach, some fifty years later, asserted that anti-Semitism -was impossible in France. How sadly has a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">démenti</i> -been given to the hopes thus expressed, especially in -these two countries!</p> - -<p>I pass over the outbreaks against the Jews during -the early years of the nineteenth century, even the -Damascus blood-accusation in 1840, and the forcible -baptism of little Edgar Mortara in 1858; they were believed -to belong to the old order of things, with which -the new, at least in that direction, had nothing in common. -I confine myself simply to the modern form of anti-Judaism, -which has been dignified with the name of -anti-Semitism. It is hard for a Jew to speak of these -things with composure or with the judicial mind of a -mere chronicler of events. Neither emancipation from -without nor Reform from within has been able to stay -the hand of the destroyer of Israel’s peace. It has been -contended that in most countries the Jews were not -ready to be emancipated; that in some the non-Jewish -population was not sufficiently advanced to make emancipation -effective. The first may be true in regard to the -Algerian Jews; the second, in regard to those in Roumania; -but it is not true of the other nations on the -European continent. Starting in Germany, perhaps -as a political move on the part of Bismarck, it spread -into Russia, Galicia, Austria, Roumania, and France. -In most of these countries it not only found expression -in the exclusion of the Jews from all social intercourse -with their fellows, but in Russia produced the riots of -1881 and 1882; in Austria and Bohemia the turbulent -scene in the Reichstag, and even the pillaging of -Jewish houses and Jewish synagogues; in Roumania<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_530">530</a></span> -it received the active support of the government and -reduced the Jews there to practical penury; while in -France it showed itself in accusations against the Jews -which for barbarity could match any that were brought -against them in the Middle Ages. The charges against -the Jews are varied in their character. In Germany -they have been blamed for exploiting the agricultural -class and for serving the interests of the Liberal party, -forgetting that Leo and Stahl, the founders of the Orthodox -party in Prussia, were themselves Jews, and that -Disraeli in England was born of the same race. The -most foolish accusations on almost every conceivable -subject have been lodged against them by such men as -Ahlwart, Stöcker, Lueger, and Drumont; and in late years -the old and foolish charge that the Jews use the blood -of Christian children in the making of Passover bread -has been revived, in order to infuriate the populace; despite -the fact that popes, ecclesiastics, and hosts of Christian -professors have declared the accusation to be purely -imaginary and malignant. The false charge that -a Jewish officer in France had betrayed secrets of his -government was sufficient to unloosen the most savage -attacks upon the Jews which the modern world has -seen.</p> - -<p>The fact which stands out in the whole agitation is -not that the charges have been made, in most cases by -men who sought in some way or other to fish in troubled -waters, but that these charges find a ready echo and a -ready response among the people at large. It emphasizes -so clearly that the Jews are a defenceless people, -with no means of effectually warding off attacks; and -though in Germany and Austria societies of Christians -have been formed for the purpose of combating anti-Semitism, -there is no power which can effectually enter -the lists in their behalf. This was notably seen in the -great London demonstration of 1882, when the petition<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_531">531</a></span> -signed by the foremost members of Church and state -never even reached the Czar, to whom it was addressed.</p> - -<p>Among the few bright spots on the world’s chart are -those countries inhabited by the Anglo-Saxon race. -Anti-Semitism is unknown in England (though the -attempt has been made to fix the blame for the Boer war -on the Jews); and the institutions of the United States -have up till now prevented the entrance here of the disease, -though in the mild form of social anti-Semitism which -debars Jewish children from private schools and Jewish -people from clubs and summer hotels, it has insinuated -itself into some of the Eastern cities, notably into New -York.</p> - -<h3>ZIONISM</h3> - -<p>There can be no doubt that next to the Reform movement -the profoundest modification of the forces within -Judaism has come about during the last years of the -century through the rise and progress of the Zionist -movement. It has been said by some that Zionism is -the expression of Jewish pessimism, by others that it -is the highest form of Jewish optimism. I venture to -say that it is both. The emancipation of the Jews has -not been able to do away with anti-Semitism; history -has repeated itself time and time again. When the -Jews of a country were few in number and of little influence, -they led a tolerably secure existence; but as -soon as their number increased and their influence commenced -to be felt, anti-Semitism was the effective weapon -in the hands of their opponents. In so far, then, as -Zionism takes account of this fact, it is pessimistic; for -conditions in the future will hardly differ from those -in the past. It sees the Wandering Jew of history continuing -still his dreary march through the ages, never at -rest and never able to effect a quiet and even development<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_532">532</a></span> -of his own forces. It explains this phenomenon -from the fact that Israel has in all the changed circumstances -striven to maintain its racial identity, and as -this racial identity has a religious side as well, that the -two combined may well be called a separate national -existence; that a people holding tenaciously to this -separate existence, but having no home of its own, must -become, when occasion demands, the scape-goat and -the play-ball of other forces. It recognizes anti-Semitism -as continually existent, and in so far the opponents -of Zionism may be right in saying that its rise is the -result of the anti-Jewish movement. It is the Jewish -answer from the Jewish point of view. On the other -hand, Zionism is optimistic in believing that real help -for the Jews can only come from within their own body; -and that the Jewish question will only be solved when -the Jews return to that point in their history whence they -set out on their wanderings, and again found a permanent -home to which all the persecuted can flee and -from which a light will go forth to every nook and corner -of Jewry. It does not hope that all Jews will return to -Palestine, but it believes that only in a national centre -can the centrifugal force be found which will hold -the Jews together in the various countries of their sojourn.</p> - -<p>When Theodore Herzl, a <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">littérateur</i> in Vienna, published -in 1897 his pamphlet on the Jewish state, he little -imagined that it would call forth an echo in every country -in which the Jews were scattered. He was not the first -to attempt this solution of the problem. Far-seeing -Russian Jews before him had, many years previous to -that, propounded this method of dealing with the question, -and it had been practically the assumption upon -which the Judaism of the past had been built up. Reform -Judaism, in relinquishing the hope of a return, and in -cutting out from the prayer-book all mention of Palestine<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_533">533</a></span> -and the restoration, broke one of the strongest links -which bound the Judaism of to-day with that of the -past, and cast aside a great ideal, the realization of -which had been a light to the feet of the Jews since the -destruction of the Temple. The idea of a “Mission” -has taken its place, the preaching of a pure Monotheism.</p> - -<p>The Zionist congresses (which have now been held -during four successive years) have found the platform, -so often sought for in vain during the nineteenth century, -upon which all Jews, regardless of theological opinions -and of economic theories, can stand. They represent -the old unity of Israel; for Orthodox, Conservative, -Reform, and even the purely racial Jew are to be -found there as well as in the Zionist societies which -have grown up in every Jewish community, whether in -Europe or in Africa, in North or in South America, -even in the distant Philippines. The Orthodox Jew -must be, by his very profession, a Zionist; but he often -doubts whether the plan as formulated by Dr. Herzl is -feasible, and holds himself aloof, waiting for the realization -of his hopes at the hands of others, or for some -supernatural sign of divine assistance. The very fact -that the Jewish opponents of Zionism (and they are the -only opponents it has) come from various parts of the -Jewish camp is in itself a proof of the above statement. -The Orthodox complain that some of the leaders of the -movement are not sufficiently Jewish; the Reform, that -some are too Jewish. That this opposition is exceedingly -strong cannot be denied. The demand made that -the Jew should assert himself first and foremost as a -Jew has been distasteful to many who were soaring in -the mystic hazes of Universalism, or who had hoped to -get out of Judaism as it were by the back door, without -being seen by the world at large.</p> - -<p>But even in those circles which do not formally affiliate<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_534">534</a></span> -with Zionism, or who at times even oppose it, -there has of late years been a very strong revival of -Jewish feeling and a movement towards a stronger expression -of that feeling. Germany is honeycombed -with societies for the study of Jewish literature; the -Hebrew language has been revived, notably in Russia, -not only as a form of literary expression, but also as a -vehicle of social intercourse; France has its Society of -Jewish Studies; America and England have their Jewish -Historical Societies, and their Jewish Chautauqua -movements; Jewish national societies have sprung up -among the students of German and Austrian universities—all -influences—tending in this one direction.</p> - -<h3>THE TWENTIETH CENTURY</h3> - -<p>As we look ahead into the century which is now opening -and cast our eye over the forces which the Jews will -bring into its life, we can easily see that these forces -tend in various directions.</p> - -<p>We have first the Orthodox wing of the Jewish Church, -which stands upon the broad basis of what the past -has evolved. It holds firmly to the inspiration of the -biblical word and the divine character of its interpretation -as handed down in the oral law; it tries to regulate -its life by Talmudic ordinances as evolved in the latest -law books, and is unwilling to make any but æsthetic -concessions to changed circumstances, believing that we -must adhere strictly to all the time-honored ceremonies -of the synagogue. At its side stand the Conservatives, -who are willing to make some concession to present demands, -but believe that these concessions should be -most sparingly and grudgingly made, and who theologically, -at least in theory, occupy the same position as -do the Orthodox. It is safe to say that the greater number -of Jews in the Western European states belong to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_535">535</a></span> -this wing of the synagogue. Between the Conservatives -and the Ethical Culturists stands the Reform party, -more numerous in the United States than anywhere else, -whose position it is hard to define and in whose midst -there are various shades of opinion and of practice. All -the Reformers have openly or tacitly broken with Talmudic -Judaism—the more conservative among them -seem to believe that a new Judaism can be built up upon -the Bible, only without its traditional interpretation; -while the advanced body do not even look upon the Bible -as binding, but merely as a starting-point for a further -development. They do not consider the Bible as inspired -in the old accepted sense of the term; they welcome -biblical criticism as an aid to the understanding of the -early history of their people; they do not believe in the -special election of Israel, and have a well-defined abhorrence -of anything like a creed. They are practically -Theists with a Jewish racial coloring. Nor do they -believe in the coming of a personal Messiah; rather, -in the advent of a Messianic time in which righteousness -and good-will shall prevail and all the earth acknowledge -the one God. To bring about this time is, according -to them, the Mission of the Jew—a phrase very -current in these latter days, the fulfilling of which has -been made the pretext for dejudaizing Judaism, so as -to make it acceptable to non-Jews. Mr. Oswald John -Simon, of London, has even gone further. He believes -that if the Reform party is earnest in its pretensions, -it ought—as it did once before in its history—to become -an active missionary power. A few years ago he attempted -to found a Jewish Theistic Church, which -should in no way be colored by Jewish ceremonial. -The movement was, of course, a failure. The original -attempt, some nineteen hundred years ago, led to -the founding of the Christian Church, and Jews themselves -have suffered too much from missionaries of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_536">536</a></span> -other faiths to take to this work with pleasure. But, -in addition to these, there is also a large body of Jews -whose connection with the synagogue is purely nominal, -and who know of it only when they need the -services of its sanction or the respectability of its connections. -The hold which the Jewish Church has upon -them is small indeed, and many of them hope, in the -twentieth century, to doff their Jewish gaberdine. The -open or concealed pressure of anti-Semitism (particularly -on the continent of Europe) which makes it impossible -for the Jew as such to attain to social distinction -or political position will drive most of these into the -arms of the dominant Church of the country in which -they live. In a remarkable article published in the -<cite xml:lang="de" lang="de">Deutsche Jahrbücher</cite> of October, 1900, a writer who uses -the <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">nom de plume</i> of Benedictus Levita openly urges -those of his fellow-Jews who have become estranged from -the synagogue to have their children baptized, in order -that they may not suffer as their parents have, but may -become really believing Christians, since their affiliation -with the Christian Church has become necessary in -the modern Christian state. Another German Jew at -about the same time advises his brethren to declare -themselves “Confessionslos,” so as to become lost, not -in Christianity, but in “Deutschtum.” A similar request -was made to the Jews of Roumania, in 1900, by -the historian Xenopol of Bucharest. There is little -fear that this advice of wholesale apostasy will find -many adherents, notwithstanding the fact that an unusually -large number of conversions have taken place -in Germany and Austria, due wholly to pressure from -without rather than to conviction from within. The -defection even of comparatively large numbers can, -however, hardly affect the Jewish cause as a whole; -for these numbers living on the periphery, or even beyond -it, have been of little service to the Jewish cause; and all<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_537">537</a></span> -through the ages Jews have made just such contributions -as these to the general society in which they -lived.</p> - -<p>There can be no doubt that Zionism is a strong protest -against these weaklings, and that the coming century -will witness the Jews divided into two camps not necessarily -hostile to each other, the Zionists and the Non-Zionists—those -who plead for a conservation of the -old energy and the old ideals, and those who look forward -to the disintegration of Judaism and its gradual -passing away into other forces. That Judaism can -only conserve its force if that force is attached to a racial -and national basis is seen clearly in the fact that just -those Jews in Germany who have been most loudly -clamorous against the Zionists propose to have now -what they call a German “Judentag,” which can certainly -mean nothing unless it become Zionist in its -tendency.</p> - -<p>Confident in this hope, we of the House of Israel look -calmly into the future. The message of the prophet -of old is full of meaning for us: “Thus saith the Lord -God: behold I, even I, will both search my sheep and -seek them out, as a shepherd seeketh out his flock in -the day that he is among his flock which is scattered, -and I will deliver them out of all places where they have -been scattered in the cloudy and dark day.” We can echo -the sentiments expressed by a Christian Zionist, George -Eliot, many years ago: “Revive the organic centre; let -the unity of Israel which has made the growth and form -of its religion be an outward reality. Looking towards -a land and a polity, our dispersed people in all the ends of -the earth may share the dignity of a national life which -has a voice among the peoples of the East and the West—which -will plant the wisdom and skill of our race so -that it may be, as of old, a medium of transmission and -understanding. Let that come to pass, and the living<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_538">538</a></span> -warmth will spread to the weak extremities of Israel, -and superstition will vanish, not in the lawlessness of -the renegade, but in the illumination of great facts which -widen feeling and make all knowledge alive as the -young offspring of beloved memories.”</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">Richard J. H. Gottheil.</span> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_539">539</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a id="FREE-THOUGHT"></a>FREE-THOUGHT</h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap1">The</span> history of religion during the past century may -be described as the sequel of that dissolution of the -mediæval faith which commenced at the Reformation. -The vast process of disintegration proceeds by degrees, -is varied by reactionary effort, and gives birth to new -theories in its course. In our day the completion of the -process and a new departure seem to be at hand. A -sharp line cannot be drawn at the beginning of the last -century, the leaders of religious thought in the seventeenth -and eighteenth centuries having been to a great -extent the leaders, and their works the text-books, of the -nineteenth.</p> - -<p>At the Reformation Protestantism threw off the yoke of -Pope and priest, priestly control over conscience through -the confessional, priestly absolution for sin, and belief -in the magical power of the priest as consecrator of the -Host, besides the worship of the Virgin and the saints, -purgatory, relics, pilgrimages, and other incidents of the -mediæval system. Ostensibly, Protestantism was founded -on freedom of conscience and the right of private -judgment. In reality, it retained Church authority over -conscience in the shape of dogmatic creeds and ordination -tests. It besides enforced belief in the plenary inspiration -of the Bible, by which the exercise of private judgment -was narrowly confined. Not for some time did it -even renounce persecution. In grimly Calvinistic Scotland -a boy was hanged for impugning the doctrine of -the Trinity at the end of the seventeenth century. The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_540">540</a></span> -Anglican Church, suspended by the will of the Tudor -sovereigns between Catholicism and Protestantism, oscillated -from side to side, producing by one of its oscillations -the great civil war. It burned heretics in the -reign of James I. All the Protestant Churches except -the Baptists, who at first were objects of persecution, -fell under the dominion of the state, which repaid them -for their submission and support by endowments, temporal -privileges, and persecution of dissent.</p> - -<p>Though Protestantism produced a multitude of sects, -especially in England at the time of the Commonwealth, -hardly any of them were free-thinking or sceptical; those -of any importance, at all events, were in some sense -dogmatic and were anchored to the inspiration of the -Bible. Nor is it easy to convict Hobbes, bugbear of the -orthodox as he was, of scepticism or even of heterodoxy. -The expression of heterodox opinions, indeed, would -have been a violation of his own principle, which makes -religion absolutely an affair of the state, to be regulated -by a despotic government, and confines liberty to the -recesses of thought. It is true that in making religion -a political institution, variable at a despot’s will, he -covertly denied that it was divine.</p> - -<p>Under the Restoration religious thought and controversy -slept. The nation was weary of those subjects. -The liberty for which men then struggled was political, -though with political liberty was bound up religious -toleration, which achieved a partial triumph under -William III.</p> - -<p>The Church of Rome, to meet the storm, reorganized -herself at the Council of Trent on lines practically traced -for her by the Jesuit. A comparison of Suarez with -Thomas Aquinas shows the change which took place in -spirit as plainly as a comparison of the Jesuit’s meretricious -fane with the Gothic churches shows the change -in religious taste. Papal autocracy was strengthened<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_541">541</a></span> -at the expense of the episcopate, and furnished at once -with a guard and a propagandist machinery of extraordinary -power in the Order of Loyola. That the plenary -inspiration of the Bible in the Vulgate version, and including -the Apocrypha, should be reaffirmed was a -secondary matter, inasmuch as the Church of Rome holds -that it is not she who derives her credentials from Scripture, -but Scripture which depends for the attestation of -its authority upon her. She now allied herself more -closely than before with the Catholic kings, with Philip -II., and afterwards with Louis XIV., who paid her for -her support of political absolutism by sanguinary persecution -of heretics. She hereby parted with her Hildebrandic -supremacy over the powers of the world, though she -did not, like the Anglican Church, recognize the divine -right of kings. The liberal and peace-making movements -which had been set on foot, or were afterwards set -on foot, within her pale, such as the Oratory of Divine -Love, which held justification by faith and wished to -compromise with the Protestants, were effectually put -down. Jansenism, when it appeared, with its half-Calvinistic -theory of Grace, shared the same fate. Gallicanism -afterwards, having nationality to back it, was -more successful. But it brought no freedom of conscience; -it was merely a repartition of the despotic power -over conscience between the King and the Pope.</p> - -<p>In Spain, and for the most part in Italy, Rome, by the -aid of the Jesuit and the Inquisition, completely succeeded -in killing free-thought. In France, where there -was no Inquisition, her triumph was not so complete. -She succeeded only in driving scepticism into disguise -and subterfuge. The Commonwealth of Holland did -France and the world in general the immense service of -affording a printing house for free-thought which was -on the confines of France, but beyond the reach of the -French government. Descartes, without directly assailing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_542">542</a></span> -the faith of the Church, planted in her face the -standard of thorough-going reason and entitled himself -to a place in the Index. Growing sensuality and love -of pleasure brought with them laxity of belief and -impatience of priestly control. The authority of the -clergy was impaired by their scandalous wealth and -vice, which at the same time enhanced the odium of -their persecuting tyranny. At last came Voltaire, -Diderot, the <cite>Encyclopædia</cite>, and Rousseau. With literary -cleverness unmatched and an incomparable genius -for subtle attack, combined with a winning philanthropy, -Voltaire converted and drew into the work of -demolition, to them suicidal, the thrones of Louis XV., -or rather of the Pompadour, of Catherine, and Frederick. -The influence extended even to Spain, where Aranda, -and to Portugal, where Pombal reigned. The Pope -was constrained to dissolve the Order of Jesus. As -Voltaire demolished in the name of Reason, Rousseau -demolished in the name of Nature, taking an artificial -society by storm. Helvétius went to the length of extreme -materialism; but Voltaire, the master-spirit of the -movement, remained a theist, and Rousseau was even -for compulsory theism as the foundation of the state. -The Revolution also, when it came, though violently -and profanely anti-Christian, was in the main theist, -and in the midst of the Terror held its Feast of the Supreme -Being, with Robespierre for high priest. Atheism, -in the persons of Chaumette and Anacharsis Clootz, -went to the guillotine.</p> - -<p>One hardly knows what to say about the <cite>Last Will and -Testament</cite> of Jean Meslier, the priest who after thirty -years’ service as a country curé bequeathed to his parishioners -a profession of atheism. The work appears to -have passed through the hands of Voltaire. It urges -the arguments against natural theology in a very forcible -as well as thorough-going way. But it seems, when it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_543">543</a></span> -appeared, to have made little impression and can be -mentioned historically only as an indication of the masked -ferment of the time.</p> - -<p>England had a series of deists, Toland, Tindal, Collins, -Chubb, and the rest, not men of much mark, though -seekers of truth after their measure and in their day. -The ecclesiastical polity of England was comparatively -mild, and there was nothing to provoke indignant resistance -to clerical tyranny like that which was provoked -by the cases of Calas and LaBarre. Shaftesbury, a -deist of a higher stamp, was, with his “moral taste,” a -philosopher for men of taste, and could little stir the -common world. In defence of orthodoxy came forth -Bishop Butler, with a work which will be memorable -forever as a model of earnest and solemn inquiry into -the deepest questions, though its fundamental assumption -is unwarrantable, since we should expect the difficulties -of natural theology not to be reproduced but to be -dispelled by revelation. Butler’s tone in discussion was -an effective rebuke to those who had treated Christianity -with levity as an obsolete interference with the pleasures -of the world. His profound analysis of the moral nature -of man in like manner rebuked the shallow and cynical -theories which resolved everything into self-love; though -here again his assumption of the authority of conscience -as a divinely implanted monitor has by modern investigation -been disallowed. Butler, however, with all his -piety and his orthodox conclusions, must essentially be -reckoned among rationalists. He frankly admits that -the use of our reason is the only means we have of arriving -at truth, never appealing from it to Church authority. -He who recognizes reason as supreme must be deemed -rationalist, let his own reason lead him or mislead him -as it may. This is the vital line of cleavage which runs -through the whole religious history and divides the religious -world at the present day.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_544">544</a></span> -Butler had a popular shield-bearer in Paley, an extremely -acute and effective though not profound writer. -Paley’s supposed proof of the existence of an intelligent -Creator from the design visible in creation told greatly -at the time and long continued to tell; though we now -see that the universe, unlike the watch, presents terrible -proofs of undesign as well as apparent proofs of design; -not to mention that in the case of the universe, though -adaptation is visible, the aim is not revealed. Paley’s -<cite xml:lang="la" lang="la">Horae Paulinae</cite>, however, is about the only piece of -historical apologetics which has in any degree survived -the destructive influence of modern criticism.</p> - -<p>Warburton hardly calls for mention. In his <cite>Divine -Legation</cite> he is right enough in saying that Moses did -not teach the immortality of the soul; but the notion -that the Mosaic dispensation must have had divine support -because it could afford to dispense with that doctrine -would now only provoke a smile.</p> - -<p>Among literary apologists we can scarcely reckon -Johnson. Yet he was a living defence, intellectual as -well as moral, of his religion. That he speculated, we -cannot doubt, and we know that he was not satisfied -with the proofs of the immortality of the soul; but he -suppressed doubt in himself and frowned it down in -others. He was well justified in treating with contempt -the posthumous works of Bolingbroke, which have not -the slightest force or value beyond their literary form. -Bolingbroke’s scepticism, however, had a certain effect -if it inspired Pope’s <cite>Universal Prayer</cite>.</p> - -<p>In Hume, on the other hand, we have the mightiest -of all sceptics in the literal sense of the term, inasmuch -as he was purely a doubter and seems hardly to have -felt the desire of arriving at any positive result. He -who has given rise to so much controversy was himself -uncontroversial. His writings, considered as the vehicle -of his opinions, are the perfection of literary art. Over<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_545">545</a></span> -common minds the teacher who merely suspends judgment, -seeming not to be in quest of positive truth, can -never have much influence; but Hume had great influence -over cultivated men of the world. His argument -against the credibility of miracles, though it became as -standard on one side as Paley’s apologue of the watch -upon the other, will hardly bear examination. Assuming -the existence of God and His care for man as His -work, which Hume does not openly deny, there is no presumption -against His revelation of Himself in the only -conceivable way, which is by an interruption of the -general course of things; there is rather a presumption -that He would so reveal Himself. Nor can it be maintained -that no degree of evidence, say that of a multitude -of scientific men, after providing all possible safeguards -against deception, would satisfy us of the fact.</p> - -<p>Gibbon’s great work is instinct with the tendency of -men of the world in the generation of Voltaire, Horace -Walpole, and Hume. Its spirit is identical with that of -Hume’s philosophy and history. It is of first-rate importance -in the religious controversy as having opened -the trenches historically against revealed religion in -undertaking to account for the success of Christianity -by natural causes. But its cynical treatment of that -which, on any hypothesis, was the prevailing and formative -force is unphilosophical and detracts largely from -the value of the work. He who could imagine that man -had been happiest in the Roman Empire under the Antonines -was an apt partisan of Lord North. Gibbon no -doubt imagined himself a rich patrician of his golden era. -Would he have liked to be a Roman slave? Conyers -Middleton in his <cite>Free Inquiry</cite> into the ecclesiastical -miracles glanced at the credibility of the Gospel miracles -and had thus partly paved the way for Gibbon.</p> - -<p>Among the disintegrating forces may be counted Unitarianism, -which was growing among thinkers, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_546">546</a></span> -probably before very long became the mask for profounder -scepticism in Protestant Europe as it did afterwards -in New England. We find it in England on the -eve of the French Revolution, combined with science in -Priestley and with mathematics and philosophy in Price.</p> - -<p>Among the apologetic and defensive forces may be -numbered the practical vindication of Christianity by a -certain revival of piety in the Anglican Church which -produced Wilberforce, Cowper, and the Evangelicals, -and still more by the religious crusade of John Wesley. -Wesley’s achievements, however, were among the poor -and illiterate, and were consequently demonstrations of -the power of Christianity rather than of its truth. His -Church had the advantage of being born, not like other -Protestant Churches in doctrinal controversy, but in -evangelical reaction against the impiety and vice of the -age. It was, however, not undogmatic; besides what -might be called the dogma of sudden conversion, it implicitly -accepted not only the literal inspiration of Scripture, -but the bulk of the Anglican Articles, to which was -afterwards added, as an ordination test, general agreement -with the more important of Wesley’s sermons.</p> - -<p>The French Revolution brought on a strong reaction -against the free-thought which had been hideously travestied -in the blasphemous follies, and sullied by the -crimes, of the Jacobins. In England the Tory mob, with -true instinct, sacked the library and laboratory of Priestley. -Coleridge, who, like other young men of intellect, -had hailed the revolutionary dawn, shared the reaction, -and combining in a curious way German metaphysic -with English orthodoxy and Establishmentarianism, -produced a religious system which perhaps entitles him -to high place among English theologians in the proper -sense of that term, as denoting a philosophic inquirer -into the nature of the Deity and the relations between -the Deity and man; though, as his guiding light was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_547">547</a></span> -philosophy, not authority or tradition, he may in that -respect be numbered among the promoters of free-thought -and of the results to which it was ultimately to lead. -Such free-thinking as there was naturally took a turn -answering in violence to the repression. Tom Paine assailed -orthodoxy, not with freedom only, but with enmity -the most virulent. Though far from an attractive, he -is by no means an unimportant figure. His criticisms -of the credibility and morality of Scripture, unlearned -and coarse as they were, went, not over the heads of the -people like the high-flying and metaphysical speculations, -but straight to their understandings and their -hearts. It was difficult for apologetic fencers to parry -such home thrusts. The same sort of effect has been -produced by the irreverent frankness of Ingersoll in our -own day. Shelley rushed from the religion of Eldon -into what he took for Satanism; though his Satan is -really the power of good, while the God of Eldon, as -viewed by him, is the Devil.</p> - -<p>Wrecked, body and soul, by the Thirty Years’ war, -and afterwards stifled under a group of petty despotisms, -Germany was for a time lost to intellectual progress. -Her churches and their clergy, the Lutheran clergy at -least, were in a very low condition. When her intellect -began to work again, it was in a recluse and highly -speculative way, the natural consequence of its exclusion -from politics and other fields of action, together with the -complete severance of the academical element from the -people. Hence, from Leibnitz and Lessing onward, -there was a train of metaphysical philosophies, each -of them professing to find in our consciousness a key -to the mystery of Being and an account of God, of His -counsels, and of the relation between Him and man. In -derision of such speculations it was said that to the -French belonged the land, to the English the sea, to the -Germans the air. Essentially incapable of verification,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_548">548</a></span> -these theories went on shifting in nebulous succession -and, with the exception of that of Kant, may now be said -to have vanished, leaving scarce a rack behind. Even -of the great Hegel little remains. Leibnitz, with his -“best of all possible worlds,” hardly survived <cite>Candide</cite>. -Still, we must speak with respect and gratitude of these -efforts of minds, powerful in their way and devoted to -truth, to solve for us the great mystery. Speculation -so free could not fail to promote general freedom of -thought, and the treatment by these thinkers of the -popular and established religion was as philosophic as -possible, though, with the exception of Feuerbach, they -were theists. By Lessing much was done for the recognition -of all religions and the promotion of universal -toleration.</p> - -<p>Presently, however, came direct criticism of the Bible, -the way to which, long before, had been lighted by Spinoza. -It assumed a strange form in the work of Paulus, -who applied to the Gospel miracles a solvent something -like that which Euhemerus had applied to the Pagan -Pantheon, reducing them to natural occurrences turned -into miracles by a devout imagination. The miraculous -fish with the coin in its mouth was a fish which would -sell for the coin. The miraculous feeding of the five -thousand was brought within the compass of belief by -supposing that they were not fasting, but had only gone -without a regular meal. Christ’s walking on the water -was his holding out a hand from the shore to Peter who -had leaped into the water to ascertain whether it was -really Christ that was walking on the shore.</p> - -<p>Far more serious, and a startling blow to orthodoxy, -was the <cite>Life of Jesus</cite>, by Strauss, who undertook to -explain the Gospels on the mythical theory, showing that -the reputed incidents of the life of Jesus and his miracles -were mythical fulfilments of Old Testament prophecies -and aspirations. From this, his first theory, Strauss<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_549">549</a></span> -afterwards partly receded, and in his second <cite>Life of -Jesus</cite>, after a critical examination of the authorities, -he comes to the conclusion that “few great men have -existed of whose history we have so unsatisfactory a -knowledge as that we have of Jesus.” The figure of -Socrates, he thinks, though four hundred years older, -is beyond all comparison more distinct. The momentous -step, however, had been taken. Jesus had become the -subject of a biography founded on critical examination -of the materials, and Strauss is right in saying, as he -does in his second <cite>Life</cite>, that when the biography was -seriously taken up the doom of the theological conception -was sealed. Lives of Christ, including even the most -popular of them, however they may pretend and struggle -to be orthodox, are really, as Strauss says, destructive of -the theological conception, while they do not help to confirm -our loyalty to historical truth. Ferdinand Christian -Baur and his Tübingen school applied historical criticism -to the early Christian Church, showing the conflict in it -of the Pauline with the Petrine tendency, and bringing it -altogether, as well as its source, within the pale of human -history. Historical criticism of the Gospels was furthered -by the progress of historical criticism in general, -shown by such a work as Niebuhr’s <cite>History of Rome</cite>. -Wolf’s treatment of the Homeric poems had already -marked the birth of a critical spirit, which was aided by -historical and archæological discoveries of all kinds, as -well as by the growing influence of science on the methods -of religious and anthropological speculation.</p> - -<p>There was an evangelical reaction against rationalism -in Germany with a train of controversialists and commentators -reputed as orthodox. Yet even in these, more -or less of a rationalist undertone is perceived. There is a -tendency more or less apparent to minimize the supernatural, -to throw the miracles into the background, and -dwell rather on the spiritual significance of Christ’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_550">550</a></span> -character and words. This is very conspicuous in Neander, -the head of the line. An orthodox English divine -such as Mr. Rose might well, after a survey of German -theology, make a rather mournful report.</p> - -<p>In Holland, ever the land of free speculation, criticism -advanced without fear, and at last by the pen of Kuenen -arraigns the authenticity, antiquity, and authority of -the historical books of the Old Testament to an extent -totally subversive of their character as records of a primeval -history, much more as organs of a divine revelation.</p> - -<p>German philosophy had mingled with English theology -through Coleridge. German criticism of the Bible did -not lag much behind. Milman’s <cite>History of the Jews</cite>, -dealing with the subject in the spirit of an ordinary history, -treating patriarchs as Arab sheiks and minimizing -miracles, gave a serious shock to orthodox sentiment in -England. Even what was deemed orthodox in Germany -appeared rationalistic to the Anglican divines. To the -evangelicals especially, whose leader was Simeon, and -who occupied many of the fashionable pulpits, anything -like critical treatment of the sacred history seemed impiety. -Yet they, with their inward persuasion of conversion -and spiritual union with the Saviour, as well -as the Quaker with his inner light, or the Roman Catholic -with his implicit faith in the Church, were really beyond -the critic’s reach.</p> - -<p>A long line of British leaders of thought and controversialists -succeeds. Rationalist and heterodox in different -degrees were Thomas Arnold, Frederick Maurice, -Stanley, Jowett, the writers of <cite>Essays and Reviews</cite>, and -Robertson, of Brighton. Decidedly sceptical were Matthew -Arnold, Carlyle, and James Anthony Froude. -Reaction on the High Church side found leaders in -Pusey, Newman, and Hurrell Froude. The evangelical -pulpit combated at once rationalism and High Church. -The state Church was awakened from its long torpor,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_551">551</a></span> -and under the inspiration of its High Church party strove -to reanimate its Convocation.</p> - -<p>Frederick Maurice impressed more by his character -than by his writings, which were fatally obscure. He -was rationalist enough to be deprived of his professorship -in an Anglican college. At the same time he could -persuade himself that subscription to the Thirty-nine -Articles was no bondage but a security for free thought. -To his yoke-fellow, Kingsley, is to be traced “muscular -Christianity,” a rather suspicious adaptation of the -Sermon on the Mount to our times. But the pair exercised -more influence as social missionaries, striving, -in conjunction with Thomas Hughes, to give the labor -movement a religious turn, than as religious philosophers -or critics.</p> - -<p>Thomas Arnold, the head-master of Rugby, was a man -of noble character, powerful mind, and intense earnestness -of purpose. He was a firm believer in Christianity -as a revealed religion. But he held a most liberal view -of the Church. He would have admitted to it all the -sects of dissenters and have identified it as far as possible -with the nation. His theory of the identity of the Church -with the nation probably came to him from his passionate -study of the ancient commonwealths. He forgot that -the philosophers of Greece, though they might sacrifice -a cock to Æsculapius, were really outside the state religion, -and that the state religion made the chief of them -drink hemlock. Prince of educators as he was, he sometimes -laid too heavy a strain on his pupils, and prematurely -developed their speculative tendencies. In the -case of Clough especially, mental health and vigor seem -to have been impaired by premature development.</p> - -<p>With Thomas Arnold may be coupled his friend Whately, -who, though, as Primate of the state Church of Ireland, -he held the most equivocal of prelacies, was, by -reason of his strong understanding, his fearless character,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_552">552</a></span> -and his shrewd wit, essentially an iconoclast and a -rebuker of ecclesiastical pretensions, as well as a vigorous -promoter of education. His keen sayings flew -abroad, but his personal influence was greater than his -influence as a divine. His <cite>Historic Doubts</cite> was an apologetic -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">jeu d’esprit</i> which told greatly in its day.</p> - -<p>Bishop Connop Thirlwall was a man of first-rate -power. At Cambridge he had set out as a rationalist, -translating German theology of a heterodox cast and -Niebuhr’s <cite>History of Rome</cite>. But his intellect was curbed -by a bishopric, and though he delivered liberal charges -and personally exerted a liberal influence, he was lost to -the direct service of reason.</p> - -<p>Arthur Stanley was Arnold’s best boy, his most devoted -adherent, and his model biographer. He embraced -Arnold’s theory of the Church as coextensive with -the nation and carried his theory of the supremacy -of the state so far as to feel a certain sympathy with -“Bluidie Mackenzie” as the defender of a state Church -against the independence of the Covenanters of Scotland. -His name was for a time a terror to all the orthodox, -High Church or Low. Yet there was little that was -terrible about him. The sweetness of his character was -remarkable. His liberality of religious sentiment was -boundless. But he had little of the logical or critical -faculty, and showed scarcely the desire, still less the ability, -to make his way to definite truth. His passion was -history, and the historical picturesque was his forte. -In a haze of this to the last he floated, coming to no determinate -conclusion. His best works, apart from biography, -are not his commentaries or sermons, but his -lectures on the history of the Russian Church and his -<cite>Sinai and Palestine</cite>; although we cannot help smiling -when, in his <cite>Sinai and Palestine</cite>, we see him hunting -with passionate interest and implicit faith for the imaginary -scenes of mythical events.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_553">553</a></span> -Stanley’s yoke-fellow, Jowett, was a man of a different -cast of mind and of higher calibre, as all the world now -knows. But in him also, though from different causes, -there was the same want of inclination to grasp or capacity -for grasping definite truth. These two men were -eminently typical of an age of religious dissolution, -when people felt the ground of faith giving way under -their feet and were striving, by some sort of compromise, -to save themselves from falling into the abyss. That -Jowett had drifted very far away, not only from orthodoxy, -but from his belief in Christianity as a miraculous -revelation, and even from belief in our knowledge of the -historical character of Christ, the posthumous publication -of his letters has plainly shown. How he could have -reconciled it to his conscience to remain a clergyman, -to hold the clerical headship of an Anglican college, to -perform the service and administer the sacrament, it is -not easy to see. We can only say that the position was -found tenable by one of the most upright and disinterested -of mankind. Jowett’s defence probably was and is -the defence of others, and the indication of spreading -doubt. Clergymen are educated men and can hardly -be proof against that which is carrying conviction to -other minds.</p> - -<p>Robertson, of Brighton, as an eloquent preacher and -spiritual leader, rather on the rationalist side, is not to -be forgotten. In his sermons there is an evident tendency -to liberalize Christianity and to present it ethically -as a religion of purity and love rather than as -a miraculous revelation which did not escape the keen -scent of alarmed orthodoxy and exposed the preacher -to some social persecution.</p> - -<p>By this time a strong current in an opposite direction -had begun to flow. The religious movement was closely -connected with the political movement, especially where -there was a state Church. Alarmed by the progress of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_554">554</a></span> -liberalism, which had carried the Parliamentary Reform -bill and threatened to withdraw from the Church -of England the support of the state, some of the clergy -began to look about for a new foundation of their authority, -and thought that they found it in apostolical -succession and the sacerdotal theory of the sacraments. -The leaders of the movement were Pusey, professor of -Hebrew at Oxford; Henry Newman, a Fellow of Oriel -College; and, in its opening, Hurrell Froude, in whose -<cite>Life of Becket</cite> its spirit and aims are plainly revealed. -It took practically the shape of an attempt to return to -the priestly Middle Ages. Oxford, with its mediæval -colleges, the Fellows of which were then clerical and -celibate, formed the natural scene of such an attempt. -Pusey, who, by his academical rank, gave his name to the -movement, was a man of monastic character and mind, -with a piety intense but austere and gloomy enough almost -to cling to such a doctrine as the irremissibility of -post-baptismal sin. Henry Newman was a man of genius, -a writer with a most charming and persuasive -style, great personal fascination, and extraordinary -subtlety of mind. What he lacked was the love of truth; -system, not truth, was his aspiration; and as a reasoner -he was extremely sophistical, however honest he might -be as a man. In this respect he presented a singular contrast -to his brother, Francis Newman, in whom the love -of truth was the ruling passion, intense and uncompromising, -while he was totally devoid of the gifts of imagination -with which Henry was endowed. Henry Newman’s -attempt to revive mediæval doctrines presently -landed him, with his immediate following, in the mediæval -Church. Pusey was illogical enough to refuse the leap. -He was also believed to be rather strongly attached to -the leadership and spiritual directorship which, as a -magnate of the Church of England, he enjoyed. He -went so near to the brink as, in his <cite>Irenicon</cite>, to avow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_555">555</a></span> -that nothing separated him from Rome but the unmeasured -autocracy of the Pope and the excessive worship of -the Virgin, both of them mere questions of degree. Manning -in time followed: an aspiring hierarch who would -probably have stayed in the Church of England if they -had made him a bishop. Passing into the Church of -Rome, he became a Cardinal, an active intriguer of the -Vatican, and an extreme Ultramontane, outvying Newman, -who, when the convert’s first ecstasy was over, -might be said to be converted rather than changed.</p> - -<p>The mediævalizing movement owed much to the fascinations -of mediæval art. The Gothic churches and -cathedrals and the Gothic ruins of abbeys have been -very powerful conservators and propagators of the faith -of their builders. It is curious that this talisman should -have been renounced by the Church of Rome in favor -of the heathen style, of which St. Peter’s is the paragon, -magnificent but, in a religious sense, unimpressive.</p> - -<p>By the progress of Tractarianism British Protestantism -was alarmed and incensed. The Oxford Convocation -was the scene of a pitched battle brought on by a -bold deliverance of Ward, a disciple of Newman, more -logical and daring than his master, who exultingly proclaimed -that English clergymen were embracing “the -whole cycle of Roman doctrine.” Ward, after a struggle -which was a sort of Armageddon of High and Low -Church, was condemned and deprived of his degree. -Newman’s conversion speedily followed. The rationalists, -such as Stanley and Jowett, voted on liberal -grounds against the condemnation of Ward.</p> - -<p>A storm from the other quarter was raised by <cite>Essays -and Reviews</cite>, a collection of seven essays written by -clergymen of the rationalistic school, having for its object -the liberalizing of inquiry in the Church. The manifesto -at the time created an immense sensation, though in the -present advanced state of doctrinal disintegration it would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_556">556</a></span> -almost pass unnoticed. One of the essays, the most -innocent, it is true, which nevertheless committed the -author to the general object of the combination, was -written by the present Archbishop of Canterbury, and -caused the High Church clergy to protest against his -appointment as a bishop. The glove thus thrown down -was taken up by the High Churchmen. The writers -were arraigned for heresy before the Privy Council, -and, as Carlyle said, you had a bench of old British -judges, “like Roman augurs, debating with iron gravity -questions of prevenient grace, supervenient moonshine, -and the color of the bishop’s nightmare if that happened -to turn up.” Before the same tribunal was arraigned -Colenso, a missionary bishop of South Africa and an -eminent mathematician, whose arithmetical instincts -had led him to examine the numerical statements of the -Pentateuch, with highly heretical results. Both the -essayists and Bishop Colenso escaped conviction. The -Committee of Privy Council, if it was judicial, was also -political, and it was resolved, if possible, to avert a rupture -in the state Church. Veteran lawyers had little difficulty -in finding grounds for acquittal when they did -not choose to convict. The language of the impugned -writings was seldom so precise as to defy the power of -interpretation. “Either the passage means what I -say, or it has no meaning,” thundered the counsel for -the prosecution. “Is it not possible, Mr. Blank, that the -passage may have no meaning?” was the reply of the -judge. The Rev. Mr. Voysey, however, succeeded in -obtaining the honor of a conviction. Tendered a week -to retract, he thanked the court for the opportunity they -had given him of rejecting the offer of repurchasing his -once cherished position in the Established Church by -proclaiming himself a hypocrite.</p> - -<p>Hampden, Regius Professor of Theology at Oxford, -formed another object of High Church attack. He had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_557">557</a></span> -been condemned by the university on account of doctrines -alleged to be anti-Trinitarian, and his appointment -by a Whig ministry to a bishopric caused a renewal -of the onslaught, which, however, only served by its -failure to emphasize the fact that the Church of England -was in complete subjection to the state. In this, as in -the general commotion, prominently figured Wilberforce, -Bishop of Oxford, son of the great evangelical and philanthropist, -a man gifted, dexterous, and versatile, who -would have made a first-rate advocate or politician, -balancing himself with one foot on his hereditary Evangelicism, -the other on High Churchmanship, to which, -in his heart, as a hierarch, he inclined. A character so -ambiguous could make little impression, however great -his abilities might be.</p> - -<p>James Anthony Froude had been a follower and fellow-worker -of Newman. But on Newman’s secession he not -only hung back, but violently recoiled and produced a -highly sceptical work, <cite>The Nemesis of Faith</cite>, which -entailed his resignation of a clerical fellowship in an -Oxford college. Then he exemplified the strange variations -of the age by coming out as an historian in the -colors of Carlyle.</p> - -<p>Carlyle himself is not to be left out of sight in an account -of the progress of religious thought; for his Scotch -Calvinism, transmuted into hero worship, has taken a -strong hold, if not on the distinct convictions, on the -sentiment and temper of the nation. If he has administered -wholesome rebuke to the self-complacency of democracy -with its ballot-box, he has also set up a worship of -force and kindled a spirit of violence totally subversive -of the Sermon on the Mount.</p> - -<p>Matthew Arnold, with his silver shafts, was rather a -connoisseur in all lines than a serious philosopher or -theologian; but he also, with his conversion of God into -the “not ourselves which makes for righteousness,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_558">558</a></span> -did something in his light but insinuating and charming -way to forward disintegration.</p> - -<p>But in 1874–77 appeared <cite>Supernatural Religion</cite>, a -searching and uncompromising inquiry into the historical -evidences of supernatural Christianity. The book, -though attacked on secondary points with perhaps -superior learning by Bishop Lightfoot, Bishop Westcott, -and others, cannot be said to have met with any general -answer. Supplemented in some respects by Dr. Martineau’s -<cite>Seat of Authority in Religion</cite> and other works -on the same side, it sets forth the sceptic’s case against -the supernatural.</p> - -<p>Miracles, says criticism, belong to an age of ignorance. -With the dawn of knowledge they diminish. In its -meridian light they disappear. The Jews were eminently -addicted to belief in miracles. There was Satanic -miracle as well as divine; nor can any distinction be -drawn as a matter of evidence between the two. As little -can any distinction be drawn in point of evidence between -the Gospel miracles and the ecclesiastical miracles, -which nevertheless Protestants reject. The miracles of -one sort, the demoniac, are bound up with the Jewish -belief in possession by personal devils, from which all -efforts to disentangle them so as to resolve them into -cures of lunacy by moral influence are vain. The four -Gospels and the Acts, which comprise the historic evidences, -are all anonymous, all of uncertain authorship. -The first three Gospels are evident incrustations upon -an older document which is lost and about which nothing -is known. In not one of the five cases can the existence -of the book be traced to the time of the events or a time -so near the events as to preclude the growth of fable in a -highly superstitious and totally uncritical age. The -presentation of Christ’s character and teaching in the -fourth Gospel, which is Alexandrian, is far from identical -with the presentation in the first three Gospels, which<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_559">559</a></span> -are Jewish. There are irreconcilable discrepancies between -the Gospels as to matters of fact, notably in regard -to the genealogy of Christ, the length of his mission, the -Last Supper, the day of the Crucifixion, the details of -the Resurrection and the Ascension. Such miracles as -the miraculous darkness, the earthquake, the rending of -the veil of the Temple, the opening of the tombs and the -apparition of the dead in the streets of Jerusalem, being -totally unconfirmed by history or by any recorded effect, -stagger belief. Such testimony as St. Paul bears to the -Resurrection is second hand, is that of a convert in the -ecstasy of conversion, and is manifestly uncritical. His -own enthusiasm is intelligible on merely human grounds. -We may be sure that had God become incarnate to save -man, absolutely conclusive proof of that fact would have -been vouchsafed. But the proof is not sufficient to establish -anything not otherwise perfectly credible, far -less to establish the miraculous Birth, the Resurrection, -and the Incarnation. Such in broad outline is the case -of Rationalism against Supernatural Religion presented -by the work just mentioned and its allies. The effects -are visible even in High Church writings. In the writings -of liberals, of course, they are still more visible. -Jowett had come to the conclusion that our sources of -knowledge about Christ had been reduced to a single -document, no longer in existence, which formed the basis -of the first three Gospels.</p> - -<p>The desire to minimize the supernatural and throw it -into the background, bringing the personal character -of Christ and his ethical teaching into the foreground, is -now manifest in English, as it has long been in German, -divines. It is conspicuous in the very popular and colorably -orthodox works of Dr. Farrar. In his <cite>Life of Lives</cite> -the supernatural has little place. There is an evident -tendency throughout to disentangle from it the character -and moral teaching. Responsibility for belief in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_560">560</a></span> -Godhead of Christ seems to rest on the Nicene Council. -In the <cite>Life of Christ</cite> we see reduced to a natural occurrence -the miracle of Gadara, where the devils cast out of -the men enter into the herd of swine. It is needless to -say that with the miraculous element of these occurrences -their value as evidence for the supernatural disappears.</p> - -<p>Scotland generally remained fast bound by her Westminster -Confession. There had been a period of liberalism -marked by the appearance of “Jupiter” Carlyle; -Robertson, the historian; Dugald Stewart, and other -philosophers and men of mind. But the Church of Scotland -being democratic, its faith was in the keeping of the -people, who were impervious to criticism and naturally -opposed to innovation. At last, however, the thaw -came, hastened perhaps by the collision between the -state Church of Scotland and the Free Church. The -Westminster Confession, it seems, has now been tacitly -laid aside, and Scotch theology has had its Robertson -Smith, whose critical views on the Old Testament earned -him removal from his professorial chair.</p> - -<p>Another book which in its day startled the world and -awakened all the echoes of orthodox alarm was Buckle’s -<cite>History of Civilization</cite>, in which the characters of -nations and the progress of humanity were traced to -physical influences, excluding the moral and by implication -the theistic element. Its thesis was supported by -an overwhelming display of learning. Though not expressly, -it was in its tenor hostile to religious belief. Of -Buckle’s work less is now heard, but it had an influence -in its day, perhaps more in America than in its native -land. Americans, it seems, were captured both by the -boldness of the theory and by the imposing display of -erudition.</p> - -<p>In the line of learned and dispassionate research France -has produced Renan, whose <cite>Life of Jesus</cite> especially -made a vast impression on Europe, and still probably exercises<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_561">561</a></span> -an influence by virtue not only of the boldness of -the speculation and the intense interest of the subject, -but of the extreme beauty of the style. The work, however, -is one in which imagination acts strongly on history. -It lacks critical basis; not that the author fails -fully to set out his authorities, but that in his narrative -he fails to discriminate among them. One incident is -treated as real, another as mythical, to suit the requirements -of poetical conception, without reason assigned -for the distinction. There seems no reason, for example, -why the miracle of the raising of Lazarus should -be treated as historical, though in the sense of imposture -or illusion, while other miracles are treated as totally unhistoric. -Nor is the portrait free from a French and -slightly sensuous cast. From the whole body of Renan’s -histories of Israel, of Christ, and of the early Church the -supernatural is entirely excluded.</p> - -<p>The Roman Catholic Church has not suffered from -criticism—historical, literary, or scientific—in the same -way as the Protestant Churches, that is, internally, because -it depends not so much on intellectual conviction -as on ecclesiastical organization, and rests comparatively -little on the authority of the Bible. Its priesthood has -not been affected like the clergy of the Church of England -or the ministries of the Protestant Churches. But it has -everywhere been losing the educated classes, or retained -a part of them, not so much from conviction—still less -from speculative conviction—as because its alliance is -congenial to political and social reaction. Its inability -to come to terms with science has been shown by the recent -case of St. George Mivart, and scientific eminence -among Roman Catholics is rare. In Italy, the centre of -the system, while the poorer classes still flock to the liquefaction -of the blood of St. Januarius at Naples or the exudation -of the bones of St. Andrew at Amalfi, still climb the -Holy Staircase on their knees or make pilgrimages to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_562">562</a></span> -the House of Loretto, the general tone of intelligence is -described as sceptical, though aristocratic families, more -especially those of Papal creation, adhere to the Papacy -on political and social rather than on religious grounds. -Near to the shrine of Ignatius Loyola stands the statue -of Giordano Bruno, on the spot of his martyrdom by -fire, “dedicated to him by the age which he foresaw.” -Attempts have been made to liberalize the Church of -Rome and enable it to float with the current of the day, -but they have failed. Pio Nono for a time put himself -at the head of the popular and liberal movement in Italy. -But he soon found, as Carlyle said, that it was an alarming -undertaking. Lamennais’s attempt at liberalization -ended, after a long intellectual agony, in his own secession. -The combined attempt of Lacordaire to liberalize -ecclesiastically, and of Montalembert to liberalize politically, -had a scarcely less melancholy result; both of -them died under the shadow of Papal displeasure or of -that of the Jesuit party, by which the Papacy was controlled. -The defiantly reactionary spirit of Ultramontanism -de Maistre has prevailed. The Jesuit has ruled -at the Vatican. Under his guidance the Papacy has -proclaimed the infallibility of the Pope and the Immaculate -Conception of the Virgin, thus breaking completely -and finally with reason and with all who, like the “Old -Catholics” in Germany, remained in some degree within -that pale. It has gained in its own despite in respectability -and influence by deprivation of its temporal power, -against which the Prisoner of the Vatican still hopelessly -protests.</p> - -<p>In France the national religion, abolished and persecuted -by the Jacobins, was restored for a political purpose -by Napoleon. The new Charlemagne was requited -with the degradation of the Pope, who came to Paris to -crown him on the morrow of the murder of the Duc -d’Enghien and broke the best traditions of the Holy See<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_563">563</a></span> -by failing to veto the divorce from Josephine. Identified -with political reaction under the restored Bourbons, -the Church nearly suffered wreck in the revolution by -which they were overthrown. She remained the object -of intense and persecuting hatred to the revolutionary -and republican party. Plaintively, when the Orleans -monarchy fell, she chanted <i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Domine salvum fac populum</i>. -Joyously, when the Empire succeeded, she chanted -<i xml:lang="la" lang="la">Domine salvum fac Imperatorem</i>. But the Empire in -its turn fell. The Church has continued to ally herself -with political reaction and aristocratic hostility to the -Republic, though she has latterly been receiving hints -from the Vatican that the Republic is strong, that the -monarchical and imperial pretenders both are weak. -The consequence is a violence of hostility on the part of -the Radicals and Socialists which assails not only monastic -fraternities, but educational institutions and even -charitable institutions in clerical hands, and has produced -an infidel literature carrying blasphemy to the -height almost of frenzy and culminating in a comic <cite>Life -of Christ</cite>. The official world of France is almost formally -infidel, and a religious expression would be very injurious -to a politician. On the other hand, the Church -braves and exasperates public reason with apparitions -of the Virgin and the miracles of Lourdes. Over most -of the women, the priest still holds sway. Of the men, -not many are seen in churches. The general attitude -of the educated towards religion seems to be not so much -that of hostility as that of total indifference, a state of -estrangement more hopeless than hostility itself.</p> - -<p>There is in France a Protestant Church, of which -Guizot was an eminent member, and which in his time -was renewing its life. But there was a schism in it between -an evangelical party and a party which was entirely -rationalist, Guizot belonging to the first, his son-in-law -to the second; and rationalism seems to have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_564">564</a></span> -prevailed. With the Protestant party of France was -allied an evangelical party in Switzerland, of which -Vinet was the most eloquent divine. But in Vinet, as in -liberal divines generally, we find an inclination to rest -on the spiritual rather than on the supernatural. In -the city of Calvin generally opinions appear to reign -more opposed to the religion of Calvin than those for -which he burned Servetus.</p> - -<p>But of the disintegrating forces criticism—the Higher -Criticism as it is the fashion to call it—has by no means -been the only one. Another, and perhaps in recent times -the more powerful, has been science, from which Voltaire -and the earlier sceptics received little or no assistance -in their attacks; for they were unable to meet even the -supposed testimony of fossils to the Flood. It is curious -that the bearing of the Newtonian astronomy on the -Biblical cosmography should not have been before perceived; -most curious that it should have escaped Newton -himself. His system plainly contravened the idea which -made the earth the centre of the universe, with heaven -above and hell below it, and by which the cosmography -alike of the Old and the New Testament is pervaded. -Yet the Star of Bethlehem remained little disturbed as -an article of faith. The first destructive blow from the -region of science was perhaps dealt by geology, which -showed that the earth had been gradually formed, not -suddenly created, that its antiquity immeasurably transcended -the orthodox chronology, and that death had -come into the world long before man. Geologists, scared -by the echoes of their own teaching, were fain to shelter -themselves under allegorical interpretations of Genesis -totally foreign to the intentions of the writer; making -out the “days” of Creation to be æons, a version which, -even if accepted, would not have accounted for the entrance -of death into the world before the creation of man. -Those who attended the lectures of Buckland and other<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_565">565</a></span> -geologists of that generation well recollect the shifts to -which science had recourse in its efforts to avoid collision -with the cosmogony supposed to have been dictated by -the Creator to the reputed author of the Pentateuch. -That the narrative of Genesis could hold its ground so -long against science was due at once to its dignity, which -earned for it the praise of Longinus, and to its approximation -to scientific truth in describing the universe as -the work of a single mind. These characteristics have -even in the day of geology and Darwin raised up for -it such an apologist as Mr. Gladstone, whose defence, -however, amounts to this, that the Creator, in giving an -account of his own work to Moses, came remarkably -near the truth.</p> - -<p>The grand catastrophe, however, was the discovery -of Darwin. This assailed the belief that man was a -distinct creation, apart from all other animals, with an -immortal soul specially breathed into him by the author -of his being. It showed that he had been developed by a -natural process out of lower forms of life. It showed -that instead of a fall of man there had been a gradual -rise, thus cutting away the ground of the Redemption -and the Incarnation, the fundamental doctrines of the -orthodox creed. For the hypothesis of creation generally -was substituted that of evolution by some unknown -but natural force.</p> - -<p>Not only to revealed or supernatural but to natural -religion a heavy blow was dealt by the disclosure of -wasted æons and abortive species which seem to preclude -the idea of an intelligent and omnipotent designer.</p> - -<p>The chief interpreters of science in its bearing on religion -were, in England, Tyndall and Huxley. Tyndall -always declared himself a materialist, though no one -could less deserve the name if it implied anything like -grossness or disregard of the higher sentiments. He -startled the world by his declaration that matter contained<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_566">566</a></span> -the potentiality of all life, an assertion which, though -it has been found difficult to prove experimentally, there -can be less difficulty in accepting, since we see life in -rudimentary forms and in different stages of development. -Huxley wielded a trenchant pen and was an uncompromising -servant of truth. A bitter controversy -between him and Owen arose out of Owen’s tendency to -compromise. He came at one time to the extreme conclusion -that man was an automaton, which would have -settled all religious and moral questions out of hand; -but in this he seemed afterwards to feel that he had gone -too far. An automaton automatically reflecting on its -automatic character is a being which seems to defy conception. -The connection of action with motive, of motive -with character and circumstance, is what nobody doubts; -but the precise nature of the connection, as it is not subject, -like a physical connection, to our inspection, defies -scrutiny, and our consciousness, which is our only informant, -tells us that our agency in some qualified -sense is free.</p> - -<p>Materialists or physicists such as Tyndall and Huxley, -or their counterparts on the Continent, would console us -for the loss of religion by substituting the majesty of -law. But the idea of law implies a law-giver or an -intelligent and authoritative imponent of some kind. -There is no majesty in a mere sequence, even the most -invariable and on the largest scale, the existence of -which alone physical science can prove.</p> - -<p>The all-embracing philosophy of Mr. Herbert Spencer -excludes not only the supernatural but theism in its -ordinary form. Yet theism in a subtle form may be -thought to lurk in it. “By continually seeking,” he -says, “to know, and being continually thrown back with -a deepened conviction of the impossibility of knowing, -we may keep alive the consciousness that it is alike our -highest wisdom and our highest duty to regard that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_567">567</a></span> -through which all things exist as the Unknowable.” -In this and subsequent passages he evidently looks upon -the Unknowable as an object of reverence, otherwise it -would hardly be our highest duty to regard it as that -through which all things exist, or to maintain any particular -attitude towards it. But Unknowableness in itself -excites no reverence, even though it be supposed -infinite and eternal. Nothing excites our reverence -but a person, or at least a Moral Being. There lingers -in Mr. Spencer’s mind the belief that the present limit -of our knowledge is the veil of the Deity.</p> - -<p>Had the Darwinian discoveries been known to Schopenhauer -they would have conspired with the earlier discoveries -of science and with his pitiless survey of the -human lot to confirm him in the belief that this was the -worst of all possible worlds. Amid the general distraction -even pessimism has found adherents, and a European -version of Buddhism promising final relief from -the miseries of conscious existence has been accepted -as an anodyne by troubled minds.</p> - -<p>Positivism, the work of Comte, totally discards belief -in God and treats theism in all its forms as merely a -mode of contemplating phenomena and a step in the -course of human progress. Yet the Positivist feels the -need of a religion, and for the worship of God he substitutes -the worship of Humanity. Humanity is an -abstraction and an imperfect abstraction, the course of -the human race having not yet been run. It cannot hear -prayer or respond in any way to adoration. The adherents -of Comte’s religion, therefore, are few, though -those of his philosophy are more numerous, and the religious -Comtists appear to be rather enthusiasts of Humanity -than worshippers of the abstraction.</p> - -<p>A conspicuous though equivocal place among the defenders -of revealed religion in England was held by -Mansel, professor of moral and metaphysical philosophy<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_568">568</a></span> -at Oxford and afterwards dean of St. Paul’s. Attempting -in his Bampton lectures to make philosophy fall on its -own sword, he fell on his own sword in the attempt. He -maintained that God, being absolute, could not be apprehended -by the finite intelligence of man, and that the -finite morality of man was not the same as the absolute -morality of God. Hence the passages of the Bible which -seemed to conflict with human morality really transcended -it and were moral miracles. In this Mansel was -reviving the theory of Archbishop King and Bishop -Browne, who had maintained that our knowledge of -God was not actual, but merely analogous. The inference -was promptly drawn by Mansel’s opponents that -what could not be apprehended could not be matter of -belief, and that he had therefore cut away the possibility -of belief in God. They even contended that he was too -anti-theistic, since he did away with all possibility of -reverence for the Unknown. To deny the identity of -human with divine morality and assert that what was -immoral with man was moral with God was to sever the -moral relation between God and man, and, in effect, to -destroy morality altogether. We could conceive of only -one morality, and acts ascribed to God which violated -that morality must be to us immoral. “If,” said John -Stuart Mill in the fervor of ethical protest, “an Almighty -Being tells me that I shall call that righteous which is -wicked or go to hell, to hell I will go.”</p> - -<p>To meet the inroads of science on Biblical cosmogony -and cosmography recourse was had to allegorical interpretation. -But allegorical interpretation cannot be -forced upon a writer when it manifestly is not in his mind. -The writer or writers of Genesis undeniably intended his -or their statements to be taken literally. They meant -that the earth was really created in six days, as the Fourth -Commandment assumes; that the formation of Eve out -of a rib of Adam, the temptation of Eve by the serpent, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_569">569</a></span> -all the actions of the anthropomorphic God, who walks -in the garden at evening and makes garments for Adam -and Eve, were actual events. To foist upon them allegorical -interpretation is to falsify their testimony. Besides, -instead of having the facts of the creation revealed -to us we are left to interpret allegory at a venture.</p> - -<p>Recourse has been had to the theory of partial inspiration, -admitting historical and even moral errors in -Scripture, but setting them down to the human element -in the composition, which has to be recognized without -prejudice to that element which remains divine. Such -a collaboration of infallibility with fallibility, both historical -and moral, is a desperate hypothesis, especially -when the object was to reveal vital truths to man. -Nor could man distinguish the human element from the -divine without being himself inspired and thus above -the need of revelation. A condescension of the divine -to the primitive shortcomings and aberrations of humanity -is a solution surely opposed to any conceivable -purpose of revelation.</p> - -<p>Another line of defence has been the hypothesis, which -may be called quasi-inspiration, reducing the inspiration -of the Scriptures to a supreme degree of the same sort of -inspiration which we recognize in a great poet or a great -author of any kind. This is mere playing with the term -“inspiration,” and little better than an equivoque. It -may be, and we hope it is, true that the Author of our -being manifests Himself in whatever is morally grand -and elevating. But this belief is very different from a -belief in the special inspiration of the Bible.</p> - -<p>Evolution, again, which at first was repelled as atheistic, -is now adopted by some as the key to revelation and the -solution of all difficulties connected with it. This would -make God in His revelation of Himself to man, without -apparent motive, subject Himself to a physical or quasi-physical -law, the knowledge of which has been withheld<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_570">570</a></span> -from man till the present time. An imperfect revelation -of the divine character, one for example which should -exhibit the justice of God without His mercy, would be -a deception of man instead of a revelation. Besides, -evolution repels finality, and we could have no assurance -that the manifestation of the divine nature in Christ and -the Gospel would be final.</p> - -<p>It is needless to say how manifestly all these theories -have their origin in controversial necessity, how totally -alien they are to the view taken hitherto by the Christian -Churches of the Scriptures, and how unlikely it is that -God, in revealing Himself to man for the purpose of human -salvation, should have chosen a method such as -would entail inevitable misconstruction for many centuries -and postpone the true interpretation of His character -and dealings to an age of human criticism and science.</p> - -<p>The ethics of Christianity have hitherto comparatively -escaped systematic criticism and are still generally and -officially professed. An appeal to the principles of the -Sermon on the Mount continues to command formal -respect. But Christ’s view of this world as evil and his -renunciation of it for the Kingdom of God have been -practically laid aside by all but specially religious men. -Christ’s moral code was, in its direct bearing, only personal -or social, politics and commerce not having come -within the view of the teacher of Galilee. In regard to -public and international concerns, the abjuration of his -principles is most striking. In that sphere Christian -meekness, mercy, and self-sacrifice are being openly -superseded by maxims drawn from the Darwinian Struggle -for Existence and by avowals of the right of the strong. -Even professed ministers of Christ have been pandering -to Imperialism and the lust of war. In truth, by a strange -turn of events, Christian ethics, in questions between -nation and nation and in questions concerning humanity -at large, have been passing out of the hands of the orthodox<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_571">571</a></span> -teachers of supernatural Christianity into those -of men who recognize only the human character and -ethical teachings of life.</p> - -<p>Professor Seeley in his earlier days had made a great -impression with his <cite xml:lang="la" lang="la">Ecce Homo</cite>, an attempt to bring the -character of Christ nearer to the heart of humanity. -The work was decidedly pietist; yet a rationalizing tendency -was scented in it by the Evangelicals, whose leader, -Lord Shaftesbury, denounced it. Its author promised -a theology. But when, after years of reflection and -subjection to the influences of a moving time, the theology -came, under the title of <cite>Natural Religion</cite>, it was a total -disappointment. Religion was reduced by it to enthusiasm, -not exclusively Christian or even theistic, -but of any kind, such as enthusiastic love of country or -of art.</p> - -<p>Minds of the finer cast have preserved the religious -spirit, while they have thrown off the shackles of creed -and even regarded the whole religious question as matter -of doubt and suspense.</p> - -<div class="poem-container"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“There lives more faith in honest doubt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Believe me, than in half the creeds.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>This is the pervading spirit of Tennyson’s poems, and -of such a work as Amiel’s diary, but it must manifestly -be confined to a circle of minds such as those of Tennyson -and Amiel. Agnosticism is the condition into which -a large number of educated minds have been more or less -consciously passing or drifting. But while in some of -them a religious spirit still prevails and the hope is cherished -of a new religious dawn, others seem to have finally -settled in the conviction that theological inquiry is hopeless -and that our knowledge must forever be bounded by -that which our senses and science tell us about the laws -or forces of our own world.</p> - -<p>Reluctance to give up belief in the unseen world and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_572">572</a></span> -perhaps still more unwillingness to think that the loved -ones who are lost by death are lost forever have given birth -to Spiritualism. It will hardly be thought necessary to -comment on an illusion which has been so often and so -decisively exposed. Its very name is belied when the -spirits have to materialize before they can make their -existence known or hold converse with those who evoke -them. The alleged communications from the spirit -world through such a medium as Planchette have been -trivial, almost fatuous. It is now forgotten that the -movement began with table-turning, as though spirits -had a special affinity for tables.</p> - -<p>Among the anti-theistic, or at least the anti-ecclesiastical, -influences and the solvents of our religious system -may be reckoned the foundation of systems of morality -independent of the divine sanction. Paley’s definition -of virtue is “the doing good to mankind in obedience to -the will of God and for the sake of everlasting happiness.” -This is the theistic view. Opposed to it is the Utilitarian -system, generally connected with Bentham’s name, -which finds the sole and sufficient motive and reward -of virtue in the promotion of our well-being here. So -long as a system aims at perfection and beauty of character -which transcend temporal happiness there is in the -philosophy a theistic element, patent or latent. But -of perfection and beauty of character the Utilitarian philosophy -in its thorough-going form takes no account.</p> - -<p>The weakening of religious belief as a social influence -on the conservative side is very marked and excites the -fears of statesmen, some of whom, even if they are Protestants, -are inclined to look with complacency on the -Papacy as a bulwark against social revolution. The -drudge rested in dull contentment with his lot while he -could believe that hereafter the parts of Dives and Lazarus -would be reversed and full amends would be made to him -for his privations in this life. This hope having vanished,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_573">573</a></span> -he is resolved, if he can, to have a share of the good things -of the present world. That this sentiment helps to set -seething the caldron of socialistic and communistic -agitation, all who are familiar with labor literature must -be aware. It would probably be found that anarchism -and atheism generally went together.</p> - -<p>As the natural consequence of the loosened hold of -religion over the nations, there has been a general tendency -in Europe towards disestablishment. In Italy, -the seat of the Papacy, disestablishment is complete. -In Spain, while Catholicism is still recognized as the -exclusive religion of the nation, the immense revenues -of the clergy have been secularized, monasteries have -been dissolved, and religion has been almost reduced to a -department of the state. In France the process has gone -still further than in Spain, and religion may almost be -said to be not only a department, but a despised department, -of the state. In Ireland the state Church has -been disestablished. A bill has been brought in for the -disestablishment of the Church in Wales, and in England -disestablishment seems to be approaching, its advent -being hastened by the collision of ritualism with the anti-Roman -and anti-sacerdotal spirit of the nation. Popular -education has everywhere been largely secularized, and -that process is still going on. Sunday-schools or other -secondary influences can scarcely countervail the general -banishment of religion from the training of the child.</p> - -<p>Religion passed from old to New England in the form -of a refugee Protestantism of the most intensely Biblical -and the most austere kind. It had, notably in Connecticut, -a code of moral and social law which, if fully carried into -effect, must have fearfully darkened life. It produced -in Jonathan Edwards the philosopher of Calvinism, from -the meshes of whose predestinarian logic it has been -found difficult to escape, though all such reasonings -are practically rebutted by our indefeasible consciousness<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_574">574</a></span> -of freedom of choice and of responsibility as attendant -thereon. New England Puritanism was intolerant, -even persecuting; but the religious founder and prophet -of Rhode Island proclaimed the principles of perfect toleration -and of the entire separation of the Church from the -state. The ice of New England Puritanism was gradually -thawed by commerce, non-Puritan immigration -from the old country, and social influences, as much as by -the force of intellectual emancipation; though in founding -universities and schools it had in fact prepared for -its own ultimate subversion. Unitarianism was a half-way -house through which Massachusetts passed into -thorough-going liberalism such as we find in Emerson, -Thoreau, and the circle of Brook Farm; and afterwards -into the iconoclasm of Ingersoll. The only Protestant -Church of much importance to which the New World -has given birth is the Universalist, a natural offspring -of democratic humanity revolting against the belief in -eternal fire. Enthusiasm unilluminated may still hold -its camp-meetings and sing “Rock of Ages” in the grove -under the stars.</p> - -<p>The main support of orthodox Protestantism in the -United States now is an off-shoot from the old country. -It is Methodism, which, by the perfection of its organization, -combining strong ministerial authority with a -democratic participation of all members in the active -service of the Church, has so far not only held its own -but enlarged its borders and increased its power; its -power, perhaps, rather than its spiritual influence, for -the time comes when the fire of enthusiasm grows cold -and class meetings lose their fervor. The membership -is mostly drawn from a class little exposed to the -disturbing influences of criticism or science; nor has -the education of the ministers hitherto been generally -such as to bring them into contact with the arguments -of the sceptic.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_575">575</a></span> -The character and intensity of the movement in Europe -have been greatly influenced by the existence of state -Churches and the degrees of obnoxious privilege which -the state Churches severally have possessed. Where -the yoke of the establishment was heavy, as in France -under the Bourbons, free-thought has been lashed into -fury; where, as in England, the ecclesiastical polity -has been comparatively mild, it has taken the gentler -form of evangelical dissent. In the United States at the -beginning of the last century there were faint relics of -state Churches, Churches, that is, recognized and protected, -though not endowed, by the state. But there -has been little to irritate scepticism or provoke it to violence -of any kind, and the transition has accordingly -been tranquil. Speculation, however, has now arrived -at a point at which its results in the minds of the more inquiring -clergy come into collision with the dogmatic -creeds of their Churches and their ordination tests. Especially -does awakened conscience rebel against the -ironclad Calvinism of the Westminster Confession. -Hence attempts, hitherto baffled, to revise the creeds; -hence heresy trials, scandalous and ineffective.</p> - -<p>Who can undertake to say how far religion now influences -the inner life of the American people? Outwardly -life in the United States, in the Eastern States -at least, is still religious. Churches are well maintained, -congregations are full, offertories are liberal. It is still -respectable to be a church-goer. Anglicanism, partly -from its connection with the English hierarchy, is fashionable -among the wealthy in cities. We note, however, -that in all pulpits there is a tendency to glide from the -spiritual into the social, if not into the material; to edge -away from the pessimistic view of the present world with -which the Gospels are instinct; to attend less exclusively -to our future, and more to our present state. Social -reunions, picnics, and side-shows are growing in importance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_576">576</a></span> -as parts of the Church system. Jonathan Edwards, -if he could now come among his people, would -hardly find himself at home.</p> - -<p>The Catholic Church had come out to America in evil -companionship with Spanish conquest. Together with -the Spanish colonies she decayed, and her history during -the past century in South America appears to have -been that of a miserable decline which could add nothing -to religious thought or history. Mexican liberalism, -under the presidency of Juarez, cast off allegiance to -her, and a priest dared not show himself in the dress of -his order on the street. In French Canada the Catholic -Church has reigned over a simple peasantry, her own -from the beginning, thoroughly submissive to the priesthood, -willing to give freely of its little store for the building -of churches which tower over the hamlet, and sufficiently -firm in its faith to throng to the fane of St. Anne -Beaupré for miracles of healing. She has kept the <em>habitant</em> -ignorant and unprogressive, but made him, after -her rule, moral, insisting on early marriage, on remarriage, -controlling his habits and amusements with an -almost Puritan strictness. Probably French Canada -has been as good and as happy as anything the Catholic -Church had to show. The priesthood was of the Gallican -school. It lived on good terms with the state, though -in French Canada the state was a conqueror. From -fear of New England Puritanism it had kept its people -loyal to Great Britain during the Revolutionary war. -From fear of French atheism it kept its people loyal to -Great Britain during the war with France. It sang <cite xml:lang="la" lang="la">Te -Deum</cite> for Trafalgar. So things were till the other day. -But then came the Jesuit. He got back, from the subserviency -of the Canadian politicians, the lands which -he had lost after the conquest and the suppression of -his Order. He supplanted the Gallicans, captured the -hierarchy and prevailed over the great Sulpician Monastery<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_577">577</a></span> -in a struggle for the pastorate of Montreal. Other -influences have of late been working for change in a -direction neither Gallican nor Jesuit. Railroads have -broken into the rural seclusion which favored the ascendency -of the priest. Popular education has made -some way. Newspapers have increased in number and -are more read. The peasant has been growing restive -under the burden of tithe and <i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">fabrique</i>. Many of the -<i xml:lang="fr" lang="fr">habitants</i> go into the Northern States of the Union for -work, and return to their own country bringing with -them republican ideas. Americans who have been -shunning continental union from dread of French-Canadian -popery may lay aside their fears.</p> - -<p>It was a critical moment for the Catholic Church when -she undertook to extend her domain to the American -Republic. She had there to encounter a genius radically -opposed to her own. The remnant of Catholic -Maryland could do little to help her on her landing. -But she came in force with the flood of Irish, and afterwards -of South German, emigration. How far she has -been successful in holding these her lieges would be a -question difficult to decide, as it would involve a rather -impalpable distinction between formal membership and -zealous attachment. That she loses the zealous attachment -of a great part of them in two or three generations, -and that of the South Germans more quickly than that -of the Irish, is what you are commonly told. Conversions -of native Americans flying from the distractions -of controversy to the repose of unity under authority -there have been, but the number probably has not been -large. In America, as in England, Ritualism has served -Roman Catholicism as a tender. The critical question -was how the religion of the Middle Ages could succeed -in making itself at home under the roof of a democratic -republic, the animating spirit of which was freedom, -intellectual and spiritual as well as political, while the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_578">578</a></span> -wit of its people was proverbially keen and their nationality -was jealous as well as strong. The Papacy may -call itself universal; in reality, it is Italian. During -its sojourn in the French dominions the Popes were -French; otherwise they have been Italians, native or -domiciled, with the single exception of the Flemish -Adrian VI., thrust into the chair of St. Peter by his pupil, -Charles V., and by the Italians treated with contumely -as an alien intruder. The great majority of the Cardinals -always has been and still is Italian. National -susceptibilities, therefore, were pretty sure to be aroused. -In meeting the difficulties of her new situation Rome has -shown a certain measure of pliability. She has not -thrust the intolerance and obscurantism of the encyclical -in the face of the disciples of Jefferson. She -has paid all due homage to republican institutions, alien -though they are to her own spirit, as her uniform action -in European politics hitherto has proved. She has made -little show of relics. She has abstained from miracles. -The adoration of Mary and the saints, though of course -fully maintained, appears to be less prominent. Compared -with the mediæval cathedral and its multiplicity -of side chapels, altars, and images, the cathedral at New -York strikes one as the temple of a somewhat rationalized -version. Against Puritan intolerance of Popery, if -any remnant of it remained, the Catholic vote has been -a sufficient safeguard. To part of the American people, -especially to wealthy New York, the purple of the cardinalate -and the pomp of Catholic worship have of late been -by no means uncongenial. Yet between the spirit of -American nationality, even in the most devout Catholic, -and that of the Jesuit or the native liegeman of Rome, -there cannot fail to be an opposition more or less acute, -though it may be hidden as far as possible under a decent -veil. This was seen in the case of Father Hecker, who -had begun his career as a Socialist at Brook Farm, and,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_579">579</a></span> -as a convert to Catholicism, founded a missionary order, -the keynote of which was that “man’s life in the natural -and secular order of things is marching towards freedom -and personal independence.” This he described as -a radical change, and a radical change it undoubtedly -was from the sentiments and the system of Loyola. -Condemnation by Rome could not fail to follow. Education -has evidently been the scene of a subterranean -conflict between the Jesuit and the more liberal, or, what -is much the same thing, the more American section. -The American and liberal head of a college has been -deposed, under decorous pretences, it is true, but still -deposed. Envoys have come out from Rome to arbitrate -and compose. Some of the Catholic prelates, it appears, -are very willing to show their liberality by co-operating -in charitable work with the clergy of Protestant churches; -others decline that association. One prelate, at all -events, is an active politician and a conspicuous worshipper -of the flag. Others strictly confine themselves -to the ecclesiastical sphere. The laity in general seem -to take little account of these variations, regarding them -rather as personal peculiarities than as divisions of the -Church. In the American or any other branch of the -Roman Catholic Church freedom of inquiry and advance -in thought are of course impossible. Nothing is possible -but immobility, or reaction such as that of the Syllabus. -Dr. Brownson, like Hecker, a convert, showed after his -conversion something of the spirit of free inquiry belonging -to his former state, though rather in the line of -philosophy than in that of theology, properly speaking. -But if he ever departed from orthodoxy he returned to it -and made a perfectly edifying end.</p> - -<p>In our survey of the religious world we are apt to leave -out of sight a fourth part or more of Christendom. When -the Anglican Bishops some years ago were challenged -to say whether they were or were not in communion with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_580">580</a></span> -the Eastern Church, that is with the Church of Russia, -their answer was in effect that the Eastern Church was so -remote that they could not tell. The Russian Church -has been and is, in truth, remote from the life, the progress, -the thought, and the controversies of the other -members of Christendom. It has passed through no -crisis, undergone no change analogous either to the -Reformation or to the Roman Catholic reaction. Such -conflicts or controversies as it has had have been ceremonial, -not doctrinal or spiritual. Its great reformer, if -he can be so called, Nicon, was a thorough-going ceremonialist -and initiated no doctrinal innovation. The -movement of its non-conformists, the Starovers, is not a -counterpart of that of Protestant non-conformists, but -a ritualistic reaction. It differs theologically from the -Roman Catholic and the Anglican churches on the -article in the Creed respecting the procession of the -Holy Ghost. But its more practical grounds of difference -probably are its abhorrence of images and of -instrumental music and its practice of baptism by immersion. -It is more sacramental than the Roman -Catholic Church, administering the Eucharist as well -as baptism to infants. While it abhors images, it -adores pictures, provided they are archaic and not -works of art, having an instinctive perception of the -tendency of art to open the door for humanity. But -it is less sacerdotal, compulsory marriage of the clergy, -instead of celibacy, being its rule. Monastic it is, but -its monachism is of the Eastern and eremitic type, not -like the active monachism of the Franciscan, the Dominican, -or the Jesuit. The Russian Church is intensely -national, a character stamped upon it by the -long struggle for independence against the Mohammedan -Tartars. The head of the nation is the head of -the Church. The Czar is Pope, as the Emperor practically -was of that Byzantine Church of which the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_581">581</a></span> -Russian Church is the daughter. He presides over the -ecclesiastical councils. The abolition of the Patriarchate -removed the last rival of his power. Peter the -Great, when asked to restore the office, exclaimed, “I -am your Patriarch,” flung down his hunting knife on -the table, and said, “There is your Patriarch.”</p> - -<p>Attempts have been made both by Gallicans and -Anglicans to negotiate a union with the Eastern -Church as a counterpoise to the Papacy. But they have -been baffled by the intense nationality and antiquated -ritualism rather than by the difference about an article -in the Athanasian Creed. The upshot has been the -intellectual immobility of the Russian Church, whose -compartment in the theological history of the last century -is a blank.</p> - -<p>Such is the position in which at the close of the last -century Christendom seems to have stood. Outside -the pale of reason—of reason; we do not say of truth—were -the Roman Catholic and Eastern Churches; the -Roman Catholic Church resting on tradition, sacerdotal -authority, and belief in present miracles; the Eastern -Church supported by tradition, sacerdotal authority, -nationality, and the power of the Czar. Scepticism had -not eaten into a Church, preserved, like that of Russia, -by its isolation and intellectual torpor; though some -wild sects had been generated, and Nihilism, threatening -with destruction the Church as well as the state, had -appeared on the scene. Into the Roman Catholic Church -scepticism had eaten deeply, and had detached from -her, or was rapidly detaching, the intellect of educated -nations, while she seemed resolutely to bid defiance to -reason by her Syllabus, her declaration of Papal infallibility, -her proclamation of the Immaculate Conception -of Mary. Outside the pale of traditional authority -and amenable to reason stood the Protestant Churches, -urgently pressed by a question as to the sufficiency of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_582">582</a></span> -the evidences of supernatural Christianity, above all, -of its vital and fundamental doctrines: the Fall of Man, -the Incarnation, and the Resurrection. The Anglican -Church, a fabric of policy compounded of Catholicism -without a Pope and Biblical Protestantism, was in the -throes of a struggle between those two elements, largely -antiquarian and of little importance compared with the -vital question as to the evidences of revelation and the -divinity of Christ.</p> - -<p>In the Protestant churches generally æstheticism had -prevailed. Even the most austere of them had introduced -Church art, flowers, and tasteful music; a tendency -which, with the increased craving for rhetorical -novelty in the pulpit, seemed to show that the simple Word -of God and the glad tidings of salvation were losing -their power and that human attractions were needed to -bring congregations together.</p> - -<p>The last proposal had been that dogma, including -the belief in the divinity of Christ, having become untenable -should be abandoned, and that there should be -formed a Christian Church with a ritual and sacraments, -but without the Christian creed, though still looking up -to Christ as its founder and teacher; an organization -which, having no definite object and being held together -only by individual fancy, would not be likely to last -long.</p> - -<p>The task now imposed on the liegemen of reason seems -to be that of reviewing reverently, but freely and impartially, -the evidences both of supernatural Christianity -and of theism, frankly rejecting what is untenable, and -if possible laying new and sounder foundations in its -place. To estimate the gravity of the crisis we have -only to consider to how great an extent our civilization -has hitherto rested on religion. It may be found that -after all our being is an insoluble mystery. If it is, we -can only acquiesce and make the best of our present habitation;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_583">583</a></span> -but who can say what the advance of knowledge -may bring forth? Effort seems to be the law of our -nature, and if continued it may lead to heights beyond -our present ken. In any event, unless our inmost nature -lies to us, to cling to the untenable is worse than useless; -there can be no salvation for us but in truth.</p> - -<p class="sigright larger"> -<span class="smcap">Goldwin Smith.</span> -</p> - -<p class="p2 center smaller">THE END</p> - -<div class="chapter"><div class="transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak p1 noges"><a id="Transcribers_Notes"></a>Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - -<p>Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant -preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.</p> - -<p>Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced -quotation marks retained.</p> - -<p>Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained; occurrences -of inconsistent hyphenation have not been changed.</p> - -<p>Redundant chapter titles have been removed.</p> - -<p>Text sometimes expresses fractions with a dash instead of -a slash. That notation has been retained here.</p> - -<p> -The name “Van ’t Hoff” always was misprinted as “Van’t Hoff” in the -original book. That misprint has been retained here.</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_46">46</a>: The original book used “Zu” as the symbol for zinc.</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_122">122</a>: “entirely changed by” was printed as “charged”; -changed here.</p> - -<p>Page <a href="#Page_139">139</a>: “barometric” was printed as “barometic”; changed here.</p> -</div></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Progress of the Century, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PROGRESS OF THE CENTURY *** - -***** This file should be named 55546-h.htm or 55546-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/5/4/55546/ - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Charlie Howard, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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